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AN EPIC DAY

Thank you Ms. Jeanne 73 years ago!

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Bill or Willy the Cape
Happy 80th Birthday Bill!

 

As in any group of men who at seventy something years, and still consider themselves to be in high school, nicknames have a tendency to stick.  Bill's is no exception and his refers to his physical appearance to a chicken or capon.  I think this name, not the least humorous to the reader, was probably created back when copious amounts of adult beverages were consumed by the group.

 

 

Bill displays his professional expertise.



 

Bill is a tad bit older than the rest of us, has had a couple of wives but is the last one would think of when one conjured up the dashing, Hollywood, concept of a ladies man.  But, who knew!  He is a consummate fisherman with almost as much experience in salt water as fresh.  Bill loves to analyze why the fish are biting or not biting which drives the rest of us nuts.

Consider this.

A backwoods cabin, deep in the New Hampshire woods, six men all sleeping in sleeping bags, in their long underwear (for at least three days), and Bill has to have sheets on his bed.  Pajamas and bathrobe with slippers.  That's Bill.

This is the man who never learned, in some forty two years, how to play poker!  We would have to explain the rules with each deal, each year!  If anyone could bluff at our card table and win, it would be he!  We play nickel, dime, quarter, dealer's choice......All the time!  If the ante is a nickel or dime, top bet is a quarter.  We don't look to make money at this game, just have fun.  If Bill bets a quarter....everyone folds.  Everyone.  He never bets, let alone raises.  He could have a royal flush and still bet only a nickel.  But that's bill.

He has had more real and imaginary physical problems up there than anyone.  Too cold was his excuse for not fishing.  His hands would get too cold.  Or his feet.  The rest of us would just layer up and not complain.  Poor circulation I guess.

One of his wives tried to keep his diet on the straight and narrow (this is not the place to do that) and put him on a low cholesterol regime.  He showed up at the lake one year with a dinner comprised of a turkey sausage dish.  Abe, upon seeing what he was expected to eat, reacted at the top of his lungs--- Bill what is this ....?  Insert a crass term referring to excrement.  I have to admit it was pretty bad, but we never went hungry. 

Three guys would bring  a dinner, one breakfasts, and one lunch materials.  One night we ate  leftovers.  Needless to say there is enough cholesterol to stop up the Lincoln Tunnel! 

 

One year everyone brought canned peas for their vegetable.  We ate those damn things all week long and to this day most won't touch another one.

 

And who of us could forget the call from the bathroom to the one who was making a run to town for something (Probably more beer).  It is a call that compares in the north woods to that of a lonely loon.  You know that long sound one hears during the night from over a calm water surrounded by echo.  Plaintive, pleading as only an old horny bird can make, in the still of the night, when looking for his mate.  "Don't forget Feenamint!"

 

More coming.