It’s the Summer of ’90 and I am sitting on the dock of a lake a few hours north of Toronto with a group of people who are all working at the same summer camp.
We’re going around in a circle talking about where we’re from and I am absolutely the odd man out.
This guy is from Pittsburgh, this one is from Toronto, this one is from from outside of Toronto and then there are the three girls who say they are from University Heights, Beachwood and the last who says she is just another girl from Ohio.
I share that I am from LA and that three of us drove out together. They think it is kind of novel until they find out one of my buddies is from Wyoming.
“There are Jews in Wyoming?”
“Yeah, and they grow them extra big. Hoss is 6’3.”
My friend Ed isn’t around during this discussion but they have seen us walking together.
“Why do you call him Hoss?”
“Ever see Bonanza? He is big. Don’t know who started it, but it stuck.”
These days we call him Rabbi Hoss, or at least I do sometimes. Mostly I call him Ed. Sometimes we talk about the old days and how I was his first co-counselor. I tell him I miss playing ball and threaten to post him up. He mostly laughs at that.
He is the director of an overnight camp. Sometimes I think he made the smarter move career wise. I loved camp.
The year before the story above took place I met a girl from Columbus, Ohio. I asked her if she lived on a farm and drove a tractor.
She that was ridiculous and that Columbus wasn’t that small a city and not to make fun of Ohioans. I told her I only make fun of people I like and asked if there was a difference between Cleveland and Columbus. She told me Clevelanders wouldn’t like that and I asked if that meant the rumors about Columbus were true.
Fast forward back to my time at the camp.
There is a rivalry between the Canadians and the Americans. Most of it is friendly banter and silly stuff but there comes a moment where a group of girls start arguing about whether Canadian or American girls are better looking.
It is a moment when I see other rivalries set aside because the Clevelander and girl from Pittsburgh have grabbed the Detroiter and are trying to make their case.
Someone turns and asks me to weigh in and I know I am in the wrong place at the wrong time. There will be no right answer.
“The Beach Boys had it right, I wish they all could be California girls.”
I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but I didn’t and now I am told by the warring parties that I am blind. I am tempted to tell them to thank me for giving them a common enemy but I don’t.
One says that guys can be kind of cute until they open their mouth and I say nothing.
I was asked to provide links to past posts and agreed to help with the most recent two provided the questioner learned how to keep up.
Not sure that will happen but I’ll give you these two links which I highly encourage you check out.
Could write a few posts about this if I chose to, oh yes I could.
Been seeing news that says they think Bob Saget bumped his head during the night and that head trauma killed him.
Smacked my head on a cabinet not so long ago and am still here. Not sure if that is proof I am lucky or that I have a hard head, maybe both.
Got so many thoughts and ideas floating through my head now that want to be set free and or worked upon. Got so many questions about this crazy feeling in my gut and the bells in my head.
Makes me wonder if I am walking up a spiral staircase or in circles. I prefer that spiral staircase because even though it may feel like some things are the same the truth is that we are higher up and further along.
Would be sad to feel like no progress and no advancement had been secured. Sometimes you just know things and want to get a chance to take action.