The Great Canadian Fish-a-Thon

An Outline

Preachy likes to fish. And, having been raised in what he terms the frozen north of upstate New York, he has a special affinity for ice-fishing. To the casual enquirer, he will explain the spirituality of the sere ice on the lake, the wind and sun and isolation and how it all brings him closer to his own soul and that of the universe. To those who know, he wouldn’t try to pull that crap.

This usually testosterone-loaded, guy-saturated activity has been moved to new heights of manliness in the Great Canadian Fish-a-Thon, wherein which Preachy has suck-... um, coerc... um, asked three of his nearest and dearest (male) friends to accompany him on a week-long outing to the hinterlands of northern Ontario (where daytime temps are currently -40F) on a happy ice-fishing outing. What fun! Drive 15 hours, spend four days freezing your asses off for no good reason and drive 15 hours home, where temperatures will then seem downright balmy. I can’t think of anything better! Few, if any, fish will be caught...

To sustain themselves in this endeavor, the boys have acquired the use of an "ice palace" from a thoughtful company which rents them to unsuspecting tourons (tourist + moron = touron, yknow?) at prices no one with sense would consider. This architectural wonder comes complete with four sets of bunk beds, a fully functional kitchen (for guys???), plumbing of some kind and even heat! As an extra added attraction, there are also six predrilled holes in the floor through which to... fish! The rental company positions the palace perfectly for you on the six-foot-thick ice of some remote Canadian lake and then augers in fishing holes for you through the predrilled floor. Does this sound like heaven, or what?

Thus will follow several days of continuously wearing the same underwear and clothes, poker playing, junk food eating, cigar smoking, scotch drinking, armpit scratching, beard growing and general scrofulousness... andohyeah, maybe a little fishing. The lines will be hung by the fish-holes with care and ignored until the tension practically pulls the house down with fish swimming away from the frying pan. Doze Boyz will all be far too busy playing poker or whacked out on Doritos! Who needs fish with all this junk food around!

I can just feel all of them getting closer to the universe, can’t you?

Yes, the weather has gotten worse...

Instead of snow, we have rain. Instead of pristine whiteness, we have muddy, dirty ickiness. Instead of lovely winterscapes of Victorian homes cuddled in softness, we have collapsing porches and leaking walls. This is the real winter on the mountain top folks - danger, damage and dementia!

The demented portion of our report is the update on The Great Canadian Fish-a-Thon, due to begin in about 72 hours. In order to "set the mood" for this pre-Valentine adventure the "boys" are having a packing party at the home of the driver. This poor sucker, of course, has a land barge big enough to haul all the fishing gear, four guys, plenty of beer and Scotch (single-malt only) and the few articles of clothing or supplies that may be deemed necessary for this all-male, testosterone loaded, international event of distinction. Actually, the way they’re acting, you’d think they were a bunch of girls getting ready for the big date... except they talk about "tip-ups" and "Union Suits" and "poker"(?) instead of the color of their eye shadow. I hope they have a great time...<sigh>.

Danger and damage come under the same heading this week as my cousin’s house (currently unoccupied due to their vacation) has managed to spring more than a few leaks over the last few days as the weight of the now very wet snow on their roof has become greater and greater. In addition, this aforementioned weight has managed to collapse the back portion of their porch roof, caving in part of their laundry room ceiling. I hope they are having just a stupendously great time on their cruise... I reallyreally do.

Did I tell you Dooley stuck his face in a snowbank the other day and ripped open his incision? Not too bad, just enough to attract the attention of his "brother" and look veryvery gooey. We had the vet clean it up, since I didn’t want to mess with what looked at the time like a giant oozing slash in the top of his nose. Things are getting better there, really.

And last but not least a little bit of open-ness about my brother. He’s mentally ill in an abusive, hateful and violent way, wouldn’t know an honest word if it kicked him in the shins and directs most of his fear and anger at me. He seems completely unable to control these traits in either public or private and is and remains a constant challenge and source of anxiety to me. Even though he is probably in end stage congestive heart failure. Even Preachy can’t stand him - but that’s his story to tell.

(This entry postdated from Friday, Feb. 6, 2004 - More to come, I hope!)