Family Affair

Hello World, Happy June! It's hard to believe that we've gotten to the halfway point of the year, and the end of the school year, and what have we got to show for it, I ask you that. (Don't answer that question!) Of course, Memorial Day weekend is widely recognized as the unofficial start of the summer season, so we all know what that means - the sudden stampede of summer blockbuster movies, all hitting the local multi-plex at the same time, and don't spare the popcorn, my good man! If it's anything like previous years, we can expect to be inundated with a steady stream of remakes, reboots, sequels, and prequels, whether anyone wants to see them or not (talking to YOU, "Baywatch!") because apparently nobody in Hollywood has had an original idea in their head since "Citizen Kane," I dare say. Godzilla, anyone? Our friends at the Word-A-Day calendar remind us that the Islamic holy period of Ramadan began at sunset last Friday, and continues until Eid Al Fitr on June 26th. They go on to explain: "Because Islam adheres to a lunar calendar, Ramadan is observed 11 days earlier each year, so that in a cycle of about 33 years, it passes through all the seasons." Objectively, it doesn't seem to have much to recommend it - not only that it requires fasting every day from dawn to sunset - but notably lacking in any popular attractions such as parades, fireworks, funny costumes, or green beer, for instance. Even in a region where "any excuse for a party" is their motto, this would be a hard sell, and it's no wonder that the entire retail establishment, usually so quick to jump aboard any merchandising bandwagon, gives them a wide berth instead. Ramadan peeps, anyone? In other timely topics, the venerable Indianapolis 500 came off without a hitch on Sunday, and in spite of inauspicious weather forecasts since last week, conditions at the track were perfectly fine, and had no effect on the race, with all 500 laps being completed. Taking the checkered flag was Takuma Sato, the first Japanese winner at The Brickyard in over 100 years of racing there, just barely holding off Helio Castroneves in the closing laps, in a bid for his 4th Indy victory in 15 years. Considering that there were over 30 cars competing (including one driven by the plucky Pippa Mann, who finished 17th) there was only a scant handful of crashes - although a couple of them were pretty spectacular, and necessitated substantial repairs to the fences and safety barriers. For all of us old-timers who can recall the fabled Mario Andretti from the Andy Granitelli era, his namesake racing team, Andretti Autosport, has been responsible for 3 of the last 4 winners of the race. The sluggish 155.3 MPH average speed would get no one's attention, especially compared with the blistering 186.0+ MPH pace in 2013 and 2014, so it was certainly unremarkable in that regard. But it didn't rain, there were no casualties, and nobody was chased by alligators, which only goes to prove that it's already safer than golf, as far as I'm concerned, and that goes double for the bogeys, I don't mind saying. STP, anyone? Obviously we can't let the holiday weekend pass without mention of my sister's legendary BBQ at the cabin, still going strong in its 45th year, and that's not just the mojitos talking, believe me. My other sister from Long Island and I made the trek to the woods on Saturday, and it started out being a lovely day, and we were glad to bring the cheerful sunshine from home to our friends in the forest. But it wasn't long before the clouds rolled in and stayed all day, and the temperature dropped so much that pretty soon everyone was reaching for their hoodies and lounge pants, in place of their shorts and tank tops. Because it was the 45th, there were more people there than usual, even early on Saturday, and from farther away places than they generally come, in the off-years - although truth to tell, even in off-years, it still attracts literally hundreds of guests from all over the country and (way) beyond. It's been going on so long at this point, that we now have children and grandchildren of the original attendees coming on their own, like salmon returning to their original spawning grounds every year, and probably just like the salmon, have no explanation for why they keep doing it, I shouldn't wonder. Also like the general population at large, there's a certain amount of divorce and remarriage, so you have sometimes 2 and 3 halves (or thirds) of the original pair, all bringing their new spouses and blended children, step-children, half-children or what-have-you, in a dizzying array of complexity. This cast of characters complication is in no way helped by a seemingly endless supply of beer and cocktails, and sometimes you can't help but wonder if strangers have just wandered in off the street, and have no relation to anyone there to begin with, past or present. This was brought home to me in textbook fashion when I was standing on the front porch with both of my sisters, and we were all talking at once, the way we do, about some nonsense or other, the way we do. Our hostess was called away to attend to some situation in her official capacity, and my other sister went with her, and one of the ladies on the porch turned to me and asked, "So, how do you know Linda?" I blurted out, "I'm her sister," without thinking about how it might make this woman feel embarrassed, but it dawned on me that while I already realized that I didn't know her and she didn't know me, she also didn't know my other sister - who as a 45-year veteran of these clambakes, should certainly be known to everyone by now. I was thinking of bringing back my other sister, so the woman could ask her how she knows Linda, but I decided that would be laying it on a little too thick. But it occurred to me that next year, we need to do something to make ourselves look a bit more related to each other than we apparently do now. Matching T-shirts, anyone? Meanwhile, keeping the home fires burning on Monday and Tuesday, the plan was for the stalwart Flag Brigade to run up the colors on both days, upstairs and downstairs, as per the usual protocol at this address. Monday was Memorial Day (observed) thanks to the federal Monday holiday folderol from 1971, and Tuesday the 30th would have been the actual Decoration Day from all of the previous decades, back when holidays had the good sense to stay put, by jingo. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortuitously might be the more accurate term under the circumstances) we were drenched with rain on both days, and Old Glory was left safe and dry inside, and not carelessly plunked outdoors in the pelting rain all day. Regarded objectively, this is what I might consider a reprieve for the poor over-matched Flag Brigade these days, and probably just as well that they were not put to the test, only to be found wanting after all. In fact, it reminded me a lot of the bad old days of baseball ineptitude at cavernous Shea Stadium, where the hapless Mets would be in the midst of a lengthy losing streak, so that if any game was rained out, we would count that as a "technical win." Peanuts and Cracker Jacks, anyone? Elle