SECONDHAND SMOKE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (07-29-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     On the way back from tennis today I looked up and saw a beautiful pink moon hanging in the sky and I couldn't take my eyes off it. Usually if I see in the news that it's going to be a rare "blood-red harvest mariner's blue guacamole-with-cheese moon," I get all excited and put on my pajamas and go outside to see, and when I look up it's the same color it always is. But I've never seen a pink moon- I guess maybe it was just going through a phase. Well, it turns out that it wasn't the moon at all, it was the sun, filtered through the haze of an atmosphere filled with smoke from wildfires in Oregon, about 3,000 miles away.

     If this doesn't prove that we're all sitting here on one planet at the vulnerable mercy of what each other does, I don't know what will. In the grand scheme of things it's not that much different than me sitting next to the campfire toasting marshmallows, and then the smoke blows my way and I move, and it manages to find me wherever I go, and it's so frustrating that I have to take drastic measures and my wife comes out of the tent looking for me and asks me what I'm doing in the car with the windows rolled up holding a marshmallow on a stick? I don't even bother to say that there's a reasonable explanation for it.

     I can't think of anything scarier than wildfires, nor anyone braver than the people who fight them. What does it take in a person to sign up for that? A lot more than I have, and I've looked all over. Whoever it was that said, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen" was amazing, because how did they know I started a fire there underneath my Jennair grill the other night? I know you're thinking that I was pretty brave, running towards the fire while some of my cats were running away from it, and fighting it with the plant mister. Within a matter of minutes I had the fire 30% contained.

     The Oregon fire, by the time I read more about it, had scorched an area half the size of Rhode Island, and thwarted the usual strategies of the professionals fighting it. I felt sorry for the people affected by it. I also felt a little sorry for Rhode Island, because every time something bad happens, Rhode Island gets dragged into it. Remember that huge pile of garbage floating around the Pacific Ocean? It was twice the size of Rhode Island, and remember that BP oil spill? It left a scummy ring the size of Rhode Island. When people think of Rhode Island, I hope they don't think of an oily garbage patch that is on fire. I met a guy who said he came from a place that had enough nuts in it to fill the state of Rhode Island. Turns out he was from Rhode Island.

     I read that the Oregon "Bootleg" fire is so large that it created a pyrocumulus cloud that generated its own lightning. This is unusual, and not nearly as helpful as creating a cloud that could make its own rain. Officials are trying to get scores of people to evacuate the area, but people who recall other, smaller wildfires in the past are reluctant to leave and want to "ride it out." Folks, my Mom's parallel parking is something you "ride out." A million-plus-acre wildfire is not. I know it seems far away at the moment, but I may just evacuate myself to be on the safe side.

     Did I ever tell you about the time I burnt down kitchen at my family's home in Chappaqua? The rest of the clan was on a nine-hour cruise up the Hudson, and just me and my father were there. I was cooking some French fries when my sister called from college, and me and my Dad were chatting away blissfully unaware that my French fries' patience was wearing thin. They burst into flames, which spread around the wood cabinetry of the kitchen in short order. The fire department came and quickly extinguished the flames, and my father elected to use the insurance money to send one of my sisters to college and repair the kitchen himself.

     This led to several revelations, 1.) You should keep at least three working fire extinguishers in your home and know how to use them, as we sort of did. 2.) French fries are not fire-retardant. 3.) A nine-hour cruise up the Hudson is WAY too long. 4.) If you're thinking of making French fries at your own home, you should know that it costs much more to send a kid to college today than it did in 1980.

     No, nothing about fire is funny, but trying to excavate a smile in a desolate area is what I do. It also gives me a chance to say thank you to those who keep us safe from people like me who underestimate the combustible nature of food. So, thank you.
 

 

 

 

SEARCHING FOR SAND

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (07-22-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     When summer rolls around I love to have a couple places that we go to every year, because that way you don't have to waste any time thinking of new and different things to keep you entertained. If you know the drill and you like the drill, it puts holes in the theory that you need a new drill. We head out to the Hamptons every year to visit our friends Mark and Laurie, and it's such a comfortable feeling to fall into the routine.

     I'm not an expert on the Hamptons, but I know it has a reputation for being somewhat la-di-dah, and I only say that because I don't know the words. But I've never had the feeling that the people who live there thought they were better than me, although they would have said "better than I," which would have been better. It's just a nice, clean section of the universe where people don't feel the need for too many tattoos. The friends who have invited me out there over the years have always been a kind and patient breed of humans, so maybe they are better than me. I'm learning to be patient, because in the summer any trip to Long Island is long.

     Should we take the Throggs or the Whitestone? The three of us disagree. My wife says we ALWAYS take the Throggs and it's ALWAYS a nightmare. I say yes, but that's only because everyone is trying to avoid the Whitestone, which is a worse nightmare. If we sneak up on the Throggs pretending to look like we secretly wanted the Whitestone, we should be fine. The GPS doesn't believe we should attempt the trip at all, and thinks we should go where we went last weekend. I guess I forgot to type in the new destination.

     There's a huge queue in the exit lane to get onto the Cross Island Parkway. "This is why they call it a parkway, we've been parked here for 15 minutes," I say. "Everyone's passing us in the weasel lane only to cut in front of us right before the exit." I feel I should treat the entire highway as an exit, so we're all on a level playing field. I politely cut in front of someone and wave a "thank you" to make it look like his idea. Meanwhile, the GPS says "At the next available opportunity, make a legal U-turn," but it sounds like she's saying, "make illegal U-turn," and I have to rely on my inner compass.

     To avoid the constant jockeying for position on the LIE, I head into the HOV lane. How many occupants does it take to make your vehicle "high occupancy?" Any of them now that marijuana is legal in New York.

     When we get to the beach club the next day, the weather is iffy but it doesn't matter. In the Hamptons you just bend everything into a shape you can use to your advantage. "This crappy weather is the best idea we've had all day. Without a little light rain we would have waited a half hour for a menu at the cafe." The umbrella we brought to the beach finally gets a chance to show what it's made of.

     Saturday night is game night. I found a couple board games on the internet, and they're supposed to teach you something about each other and something about yourself, by trying to make you guess the answer that you thought the other person would say to a question that they are obviously answering differently than they normally would because they know you are trying to think of the answer they think you thought they would say. The thing we learned about ourselves is that the smallest amount of cocktails can make the instructions sound like that last sentence. So we changed the rules to make the game remarkably like charades. Everyone told me not to say one word out loud while I was giving my clues, and to try to cut down on them in between, also.

     At the end of a fabulous weekend I realize I've come to terms with not having a second home. It might have been Diogenes who said, “He who has the most is the most content with the least.” I think that's what he said, it was a while ago and I'm not sure I heard him correctly. The point is, I may not have a house in the Hamptons, but I have three things that are just as good: my ability to find fun wherever I am, and two friends who have a house in the Hamptons.

RUNNING FOR THE HILLS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (07-15-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

 
     My friend Margaret is running for town council. She is a gregarious, honest, caring, passionate and hard-working individual who would be an asset to any organization, and certainly my town. It takes a special kind of person to espouse politics at even the most local level. At a small get-together to introduce her candidacy, some current members of the Town Board said a few words about what they do.

     They spoke about new ideas, and how not every idea is a great idea just because it's new, but what IS great is having them, welcoming them and considering them. They spoke of how diversity is something not to be feared, but to be embraced as a way to keep a town from stagnating. They talked about what a nice place we live in, and ideas to make it even better.

     I wondered what it would be like to be in that world for just a moment. That's how long it would take for people to say, "I wouldn't vote for you if you were the LAST politician on Earth!" But what if I WAS the last politician on Earth? I have a couple of questions before I agree to run: 1.) Is anything boring going to come before the Board? I'm not sure I want to have to read a bunch of legal-sounding stuff like, "all abuttals will be accepted ab initio as absolute according to accounts accumulated by the acquittal of adjudication administrated by the aforementioned, ad valorem. And that's just the boring stuff that begins with "A." 2.) Do I have to kiss any babies? Most interactions I have with babies result in one of us being disappointed in the others' behavior. Maybe the baby wouldn't be offended by a solemn bow like in Japan. 3.) Will I be expected to know the answers to peoples' questions? If the baby asks me something I can probably answer it without having to look it up in a YouTube video, otherwise I'll have to get back to you.

     I don't want to get caught in a lie, but the truth is sometimes painful, so I have to obfuscate it by saying things that sound like I made them up, like "obfuscate." Why do I use a word like "ubiquitously?" It's difficult to say. "That bum Rick Melén said in a speech that my taxes would always almost never not hesitate to sometimes every time not go the opposite of down, and yet they always almost never hesitated to sometimes the opposite of not did!" I wouldn't have said something like that unless I meant it.

     You have to be good at posing for photos. "Would you mind a photo?" Someone at my rally asks. "Sure, but what's my hair look like?" I reply. "An endangered species habitat," they say, "but I meant for you to take a picture of US." You have to make sure someone is photographing you every time you're doing something good, like rescuing someone who is about to eat haggis, or delivering great oratory about why "F Troop" is better than "The Brady Bunch."

     You have to be willing to compromise. If you're not, just get out of the game now, I'm not budging on that.

     I'm not sure if there are any skeletons in my closet. There's a weird smell coming from in there, but it could be that broken toaster oven that I can't bear to throw away because at some point it might be less broken than the one I have now. What if someone from the opposing party hires a private detective to dig up some "dirt" on me? The first thing he's going to do is check my internet browser history, and his eyes will pop out of his head. Not for the reason you might think, but because when he sees queries like, "legal terms that start with 'A'" or "what exactly is haggis," he'll automatically assume that I'm unfit for office.

     So good luck to you, Margaret. I guess you just have to be true to yourself and hope for the best. I said to my wife that the one thing I could do was write a speech. I'd open with a joke and close with a joke, not the same joke. "What goes in the middle?" She asked. I'd put a couple funny stories in there and a gag, I said. "What kind of politician would you be with that speech?" She asked. "I don't know," I said, "but I'd feel funny trying not to be."