Hanga Roa: My Father versus Matt Lauer

Because my father is a walking menagerie of maniacal animals of the ridiculous variety, he has, it seems, an ongoing and bitter war with Matt Lauer of the Today Show.

It is a travel war.

I didn’t know about it until this past week, but apparently it has been in full bloom for some time, with casualties on both sides. It is an unconventional war, fought with frequent flyer miles and photo albums. Matt Lauer would seem to be winning.

Chiara and I flew down to Easter Island last Tuesday and my family took time out of their vacation in the Society Islands to meet us there. It’s a strange place, as mysterious and spooky as it is distant and hard to get to. It is home to a history unlike any other on earth and it is nearly impossible to photograph badly. All of this - at times - seemed entirely secondary to my father, so flushed was he that he had finally erased one of Matt Lauer’s stinging victories.

It seems Matt Lauer visited Easter Island as part of his ongoing “Where in the World is Matt Lauer” series for The Today Show. My father was always possessed of a keen interest in visiting the island himself, and was painfully stung when his travel nemesis beat him to the punch. When finally, last week, my father was able to even the score, he bragged of it to anyone who would listen.

As is his wont, my father told waiters, and Spanish speaking hotel staff, and tour guides, and family members. He told them that, though Matt Lauer had visited the island some two years prior, he had - he assured all of them with serious intonations - intended to come long before Matt Lauer had. It was only a coincidence - he would tell them - that Matt Lauer had gotten to it first.

We’d pause in front of some great stone moai, centuries-old and smashed on the turf, and he’d lean over conspiratorially and say: “When Matt Lauer was here, he got to stand right next to that one. Did you see him do that on the Today Show?”

I’d reply quietly that I have never seen the Today Show, that I am asleep at that hour, that I had never seen Matt Lauer actually being Matt Lauer. He’d continue on, “Should I go up there and stand next to it? You know, I would have beat Matt Lauer here if we’d come when I wanted to, but your mother . . . “

I’d just shake my head softly, stifling the sudden throaty noise that often precedes a laugh. My father would get that gleam in his eye and turn back to look at the moai.

“Now if I can just get to Antarctica before Matt Lauer does.”