A belated Shana Tova to the fellow members of my tribe. As we usher in year 5771 it is once again time to reflect on the ups and downs of 5770. This past year was a roller coaster in my family. Last Friday marked the Eve of Yom Kippur, a day of atonement for the Jews, and for me it was a day spent with family. Thursday, I drove my “mekhutonim,” my parents-in-law, up north to Jasper Bark Lodge to spend a few days with us. They’ve been through a lot this past summer, and we thought they could use a break in the bucolic Great White North. Friday I took both 85 year-old parents out for a little ride on the ATV, and I think they were good sports to do that. Once an avid fisherman on this lake, my father-in-law has not been fishing in over five years. In what turned out to be a comedy of errors, I decided that my good deed for the year (I only do one per year) would be to take him out fishing before the season ended. We drove all the way to Magnetawan for big minnows, then rushed home at breakneck speed to get them in the lake before they died. Then we scrambled to find all the fishing gear, which has been stashed away since the house was built. We put hooks, spinners, and sinkers on the lines, we found the net and stringer; we were ready to roll. I thought I’d take him out in the porta-bote (my folding boat) because it will go slow enough to troll, but getting him in the boat proved to be a challenge. He somehow managed to fall into our paddle boat, which was sitting on the dock and full of rainwater. That necessitated a change of clothes. Jump ahead a half an hour, he was dry again, and I finally, with some difficulty, got him from the dock into and seated in the little boat. As I started the little outboard I heard a thump and looked back to see that he had slipped off the seat and fallen backwards onto the floor of the boat. As the motor was idling in neutral, and the boat was drifting away from the dock, there was my octogenarian father-in-law, legs up in the air, lying on his back on the floor of this little boat, with a fishing hook sticking out of his chin. Now he was bleeding, and there was sheepish grin on his face as he and I came to the humbling realization that perhaps this fishing venture was not such a good idea. I got the fishing hook out of his chin, pulled him back onto the seat and assessed the damage. Not so bad. Then I gave him my Jewish pep talk: “We’re going out dammit. I didn’t just race all the way back from Magnetewan with the world’s most expensive bait so you could wimp out on me. This was for you, I don’t even like to fish!” Finally, we did get out, and while we did not catch anything, we had a pretty good time. I made fun of him the whole time and he hurled his usual verbal abuse at me, pretty much the description of our relationship over the past seventeen years. We stayed out for about an hour, until the sun began to go down and it started to get cold. When we got back to the dock, I was able to get him out of the boat with less difficulty. As he was walking away, I noticed he had his sweatpants on backwards, but didn‘t think anything of it. I went to put the boat away, but I looked back because I heard Shauna and her mother laughing hysterically. They were leading him up the path to the house and his sweatpants had now fallen down to his ankles, but he didn’t seem to give a flying Walenda … he just kept on walking. If you don’t have a sense of humor about getting old, you might as well just curl up and die. I’ll give this to ALL my parents, they are not quitters. All in all it was a memorable fishing expedition.
Well, I finally watched an episode of “Jersey Shore”. I’m not sure why they call it that, because the episode I watched took place in S. Miami Beach. Regardless of the location, it was predictably ridiculous. This particular episode focused on the infidelities of several of the bulked up cretins within the group and oh, the drama! I’m not sure I have ever seen such stupidity exhibited on television. I sat and watched the show, incredulous and appalled. Regardless of gender, they all refer to each other as either “dog” or “bro,” and although most of the words they spoke were, I believe, from the English language, it was all Greek to me. I wonder if that language program Rosetta Stone has a file for Jersey Ghettospeak, because it is clearly a language unto its own. At one point, one of the characters was trying to figure out who wrote a suspicious note revealing the indiscretions of another. It was determined that it couldn’t have been “Snooky” because she never uses big words, like “wisely.” I too am cnfounded by big words like that. Snooky is, by the way, the girl who was recently arrested for being a “public nuisance.” Hey, don’t go buggin’ on me bro, I dint make this sh-t up. I believe that will be my last viewing of “Jersey Shore” … yo, been there, done that.
Yesterday, I took Mom and Dad Taylor out for a second troll on the lake, this time in the big boat. Again we got no bites, but there were no disasters as well, and we shared a sunset together. It’s always good to spend time with one’s family.
Carpe carp.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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