THE PICNIC

You can imagine that summer days here evolved around being outside all the time. When the storms came, it was best to be on land and inside. However one day when we happened to be in town, my mom insisted to my dad that we pack a picnic lunch and take a ride out to the island. My dad tried to tell her –“NO CONNIE”, that’s a really bad idea. But the little Sicilian had to have her way. So dad reluctantly gave in. Let me preface the next few comments with the fact that my mom was afraid of the water and couldn’t swim. Can you see where this is going? 

OK – so off we go. We get out to the lake and proceed to unload the car, load the boat and head out for the 20-minute trip across the lake. This is a very small lake, but remember we had a very slow boat.  We no sooner entered the body of the lake, from the channel and the skies opened up with a vengeance. Mom was terrified. The waves were lapping over the side of the boat and the rain felt like needles on our skin. She kept begging dad to turn around and go back to shore. By this time we were equidistant from either the landing or the island. No way was he going to turn around. He got his “IRISH UP” and calmly told her, “You wanted to come out for a picnic and that’s what we’re going to do” Needless to say the day took a dive from that point on.  We got to the dock of the island looking like four drowned rats, chilled to the bone.  We unloaded the boat, got into the cottage and dad started a nice hot fire in the old cast iron potbelly stove, –which by the way – is still the only source of heat out there.  Mom unpacked the picnic “fixings” and OH OH – she had forgotten a key ingredient  - BREAD for the sandwiches.  By this time dad had downed a couple of PBRs (Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, for those of you unfamiliar with nectar of the gods in Milwaukee.) He was feeling a little happier now, so off he went, without complaint, back to shore and the little convenience store down the road from the landing. Well it just so happens that this “convenience store” was just an addition to a local watering hole.  So naturally dad had a couple more PBRs before he headed back across to the island to his VERY UNHAPPY wife. This all took at least an additional hour. By the time he got back we were all starving, but at least the sun was shining and dad was a “wee bit happier”.  Dad handed mom the bread, and emboldened by nectar of the gods, simply told her – “ Connie, if your head wasn’t attached to your neck you’d have forgotten it”.  Thank god that it was JUST bread that she had forgotten and that my uncles were always sure to have a few cold ones on ice, JUST IN CASE, some one decided to drop in.  There may not have been bread on hand, but there was always ice cold BEER nestled seductively in a 50 # block of ice in the icebox.

 It was a lovely ”picnic”.  We NEVER did that again.  J