Those boys were up and 1am and I gave a holler upstairs to tell them to go to bed. I was half asleep so I’m not sure if I threw in a little “you little bastards” just for effect or not. They are right above our bedroom so there is little reprieve from the nuances of life especially when they elect to stay up half the night while the rest of the world is fast asleep. They may have had enough bullhead fishing for one trip and you only have to wrestle with them once to know that they are not much fun to deal with if you have to rip the hook from their intestines just to get your hook free. Evan saw me do it once some years ago and I guess he had to experience it for himself and that is precisely what they did the night before last. When we got back from the village last night after watching Aztec Two Step for a while I went right to bed and Nancy kept busy with her puzzle. It’s hard to say whether or not that will be completed this vacation. If I were a betting man, I would say not. I went to bed not knowing what the boys had in mind. I was awakened at 1 am by their voices, laughter, and occasional creaking of the floorboards right above our bed. I wasn’t a happy camper.

After finding my fishing pole in serious disarray one too many times I asked Ev to refrain from using my pole and to use his own instead. The hook was off, the sinker gone too, and the line was strewn across the dock as though he had pulled half a reel off the bottom of the lake and just left it there. I had visions of picking up my pole and having a cast or two with my new Shakespeare rod and reel and I was disappointed that it was just one frigging car wreck of a rig. I don’t think I was being too harsh when I asked Ev to use his own but, my god, a man has a right to expect that he will find his fishing pole just the way he left it. I won’t be picking up the pieces when it comes to my fishing gear. I’m putting my foot down. I would hasten to add that I’m not thrilled with this new rig of mine. I guess you get what you pay for. It looked so new and shiny sitting there on the rack at Walmart. I should have paid a little more for something better. Oh, well.

It was hard to tell if anyone liked my chicken, pepper, onion, and mushroom pockets last night that I made for dinner. What I lacked in content I had hoped to make up for in presentation. I heated the pockets up and served them separately and let folks stuff their own. The contents were served on a platter with a smattering of mozzarella cheese. I thought it looked scrumptious. I think it went over well but I did not hear any rave reviews so I think I may not keep the recipe. Then again, I liked it a lot so it may well stay on my own personal list of things to have in the future. In my own inimitable words, what’s not to like? Besides which, it was a healthy meal and that is important to me these days. Good fats, good vegetables, and whole wheat bread to boot. I washed that puppy down with a nice glass of lemon flavored water and proceeded to eat the rest of Evan’s. He tends not to like things that are burnt and I will admit that I like a crust so I tend to run up the heat for better or worse. Lush.

There are certain constants on these LG vacations that are worth mentioning time and time again. Constants worth looking forward to; constants that have nothing to do with brothers and sisters; constants that have nothing to do with how many fish we catch or how many dozens of worms we go through trying to catch them. Nancy’s blueberry crisp is one of those constants. This is one dish that I think she looks forward to making as the one and only one supreme dish that typifies what summer is all about. She selects the ripest berries, and there aren’t just blueberries in the dish as the name suggests, then adds slices and chunks of the ripest and sweetest peaches, nectarines, and whatever other berries she can find. I even saw her looking longingly at a sign for blackberries yesterday as we drove down Ridge Road towards Glens Falls. I know what she was thinking.

It just so happened that we had a crock pot type dish here in the cabin at Travis Point which was just the right size. Not too big and not to small. In other words, just big enough to hold the berries she planned to use but not so big that we would have more servings than she would otherwise serve us under normal circumstances. That was true as well of the container of ice cream that we purchased at Hannaford’s in anticipation of the berries extravaganza. In case you’re curious, we got a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Vanilla ice cream to go with the dessert. Just perfect.

What I still am unsure of even at this early hour on the morning after is which was supposed to go with which. I can tell you that by the time Evan was ready for his dessert last night, Nancy, Noah, and I had already had ours. He took one look at what was left and declared with a hrrrrumph that he wasn’t going to have any at all. I told him that I thought the berries would accompany the ice cream very nicely and he should consider it from that angle. As a topping, I offered. It presented enough of a shift in his perspective that he was soon on his feet and dishing himself out a sizable bowl. It looked like an unreasonably large bowl from where I was sitting and one that was probably risky from a glycemic point of view. Right off the charts. From the look on Nancy’s face, she agreed with me but said nothing. It was the right choice. Evan was seemingly content as he slid his lower body beneath the sleeping bag on the couch and watched the Little League World Series. Lake Charles was winning convincingly by the time I went to bed at 10:20.

You know how Evan takes a certain pleasure in knowing that he is better at doing certain things than other people? So much so, in fact, that unless he is seen as the best he sometimes doesn’t even want to play. Take water skiing, for instance. He knows that he’s better at skiing than is Noah. Just look at the fact that Evan is slalom skiing and Noah is not. It has me wondering if Noah lets him win when he senses that it is important for Evan to think he is winning. It is a small concession to be sure. It is a small price to pay to stay in the good graces of his best buddy. It may be harsh to say but I have my doubts as to whether or not Evan would make the same concessions. Yes, I have my doubts. This says a lot about Evan but the hero of the story is Noah. It is a story that no doubt has parallels in classic or mythical Greek literature and if I find the time I will look it up just to see how the story ends. In the meantime, Noah will be well served to catch the smaller fish; throw the ball less far; swim less fast and more clumsily; argue with less intelligence; calculate with less cunning; read with less comprehension; and get to the back of the line when the berries are served. In a word, be more malleable.

Another example, if I might. I caught a nice bass of the dock here yesterday. Noah was amazed that I was able to catch such a nice bass off the dock and said as much. I looked around for Evan and he was nowhere to be seen. He was there a second ago, I thought to myself. I thought it was a pretty nice catch and said as much whenever I had the chance. Every time I did, Evan made some derisive comment to minimize or detract from the story line. Is this about a son competing with his father and not wanting to give an inch? Or, is this about a boy who sees the world only through a lens where unless he is king there is no other position worth holding? What can you say about a boy who achieves his goals only at the expense of his rivals.? Where in the world of winning and losing did he get the idea that there is no middle ground? That it is all right to come up short and that doing so is its own valuable lesson. I tell him time and time again that it is far more important to be a good loser than it is a good winner in life. Or is it the other way around? No matter, both are valuable lessons. I hope it isn’t too late.