Victor Garber:  “You can only do so much theatre.

Isabelle Huppert:  “But theatre is always a difficult experience.”

Juliet Stevenson:  “I sometimes think that theatre is a torture.”

Katherine Dunham:  “You know, this isn’t theatre like it used to be.”

The Malden Yacht Club is an unstructured association of people who like to kayak, and in that way we are not much different from any other paddling group. Yet we are different, or at least that’s what we prefer to believe. You see, we are more than just a kayak club, or more accurately, we are less than just a kayak club. You might say that we are part kayak club, part liar’s club, because we can’t deny that we are also a storytelling group. We tell stories when we paddle, even if paddling solo, which might be a bit disturbing, and we tell stories when we’re not paddling. Some of us tell stories at the mini-park. Some of us tell stories on the blog. Some tell them while they sleep. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing. If we are there, so are the stories. They don’t have to be about kayaking, they don’t even have to make sense, they just have to be tales that someone wants to tell. It should come as no surprise, then, that I am about to expose you to a story that could have been told at the mini-park without the raise of an eyebrow, but instead has found its way to the blog. It’s not about kayaking, it doesn’t even make sense, but what can you expect? It’s being told by women.

If the Ol’ Philosophizer always had his way … hmmm, now that I think about it, even I wouldn’t want that to happen. Well, at least not all of the time. Oh sure, it would be terrific if I had my way about some things: ice cream would be calorie free and more healthy than broccoli, pizza and beer would be the traditional meal at all family holidays, the river would only be frozen on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and the rain may never fall till after sundown - by eight, the morning fog must disappear - the snow may never slush upon the hillside - by nine p.m. the moonlight must appear - the winter is forbidden till February - and exits March the second on the dot - weekends would be only meant for paddling - here in Ol’ P Camelot. Woops, I got carried away there didn’t I? But it’s not my fault, folks. It’s those darn musicals.

Ol’ P’s Master Plan For Camelot May Not Be Much Better Than His Plan For Lake Champlain

You see, Mrs. Ol’ P and Gotham Girl are in a conspiracy to cultivate a sense of culture in you know who by dragging him to musicals. It wasn’t bad enough last summer that I was volunteered to enter a fortnight of forced marches through forts and fortresses. No, what was the first thing Mrs. Ol’ P and Gotham Girl did the second second after the plane landed in London? They hauled me off to a musical! And do you think that such attendance would earn me credit, and I would get some time off for good behavior? Of course not. A mere eight months later, I had to go to another one. And it’s not just any musical I get to sit through either. For Mrs. Ol’ P and Gotham Girl, there are only two requirements for musicals: they must be depressing and they can’t make any sense. Well, at least the second half of that fits with MYC practices. Still, if I had my way, it just wouldn’t happen … and ice cream would be calorie free and more healthy than broccoli …

But since I can’t avoid these “self-improvement outings,” and since it is sometimes evident that some of you in the Malden Yacht Club could stand some improving also, I am going to share with you a report prepared by Gotham Girl and Mrs. Ol’ P about our recent trip in search of “HAIR” (it’s been so long, I didn’t think I would recognize it if I saw it). Gotham Girl’s words are set forth in normal text, she being the one of us who most closely approaches that state. On the other hand, since Mrs. Ol’ P has decided to communicate her thoughts by giving voice to the lyrics of the show’s songs, I have made her words all green, bold and squiggly. My comments are set forth in my usual C.R.A.P. brown.

The MYC 3, An Important Number, You Will See, Let Down Their Hair, And Prepare To Part-tee

Give Me A Head of HAIR …

In the mid 60’s, Gerome Ragni and James Rado (a tall blonde man who tends to wear knit caps) wrote “HAIR,” the first rock musical which revolutionized Broadway. Don’t Put it down! Now 40 years later it is being revived on Broadway. Ragni died in the 90’s but Rado, [who didn’t], is still involved with the play. Last month, Ol’ P and Mrs. Ol’ P decided to venture out of Maldonia to the glittering city to the south (to Manchester, England, England, across the Atlantic Sea? - no wait - that’s not ‘til July) to see a play. [This decision is what is known in the law as a “unilateral” decision.] Ever since Mrs. Ol’ P was in college, she has been enamored of the play “HAIR,” and has been waiting 40 years to see it. (Memorizing all the lyrics wasn’t enough.) [Oh yes it was. That would have been more than enough for me.] As with all of the Ol’ Philosophizer’s adventures, there had to be a trip to research the history of the play. [That’s not actually a requirement of all of my trips, it’s more like a luxury option. A requirement would be a trip to a watering hole to immunize and anesthetize against coming caterwauling, but I didn’t plan this trip, so guess what got left out.]

There Are A Thousand Million Trillion (inflation, you know) Stories In The Naked City … And This Will be One Of Them

Ol’ P and Mrs. Ol’ P arrived at the Port Authority when the moon was in the seventh house and Jupiter aligned with Mars to meet Gotham Girl who was to be their guide. [Folks, it’s a mighty big city down there, and you should never go without a guide … even one that misses all of the best waterholes.] Since the play was written in Hoboken, (nuts - I thought I was finished with all farmlands with your boll weevils and all …) it seemed the logical place to start their quest. The first problem to solve was how to cross the mighty Hudson River, which seemed to be quite wide at the lower end. Ol’ P suggested renting kayaks and traveling that way. [The way I figured it, I could turn right, make a dash for Peekskill, and hop the train home before the culture cops figured out what I was up to.] Gotham Girl, being kayak illiterate, vetoed that idea.

Mrs. Ol’ P suggested the IRT, down to 4th St., USA, but Gotham Girl said no, the only thing we’d find there was the youth of America on LSD.

“We can take the PATH,” she said.

[Folks, I may not know too much about show biz, but I do know something about the float biz. Last summer, in Ticonderoga, I did an experiment by the pool. I had a thick pair of sandals that floated very nicely on the top of the surface. Naturally, I figured that if I strapped these same sandals to my feet, I should be able to walk across the pool. You see, you can’t kayak as long as I have without learning a thing or two about flotation. So I tried it. It didn’t work. But I’m a quick learner, and I knew that just because some municipal planner drew a PATH across the river, that didn’t mean we could walk on it.]

“That’s a river,” I pointed out. “There is no path.”

[Have you ever been present when your spouse does or says something incredibly stupid, and you don’t know how to act? No? Neither have I. But Mrs. Ol’ P has, and her response is to start singing.]

“Are we gonna walk through space to find the purpose of peace? The beauty of life …”

[That’s enough, Mrs. Ol’ P. NO MORE SINGING! Now I know what it feels like.]

“The PATH goes under the river,” Gotham Girl finally was able to reply.

“Oh, like that makes me feel better. You mean we have to walk under the river?”

“Where do I go? Follow the river … where do I go, follow the gulls?

[Oh crap, more singing! Get a grip, woman. You and those freakin’ seagulls …]

“We can take the ferry!” exclaimed Mrs. Ol‘ P. “It’s closer than the PATH, which is a train by the way.”

 

Being So Familiar With This Ship Since Her Early Days In The Borough, Gotham Girl Left Unspoken The Notion Of A Token For The Ferryboat Into Hoboken

With that Gotham Girl and the Ol’ Philosophizer followed Mrs. Ol’ P to the ferry entrance. After a short but expensive ride the three disembarked almost broke in Hobroken Hoboken. There they searched for the Hoboken Historical Museum. Our eyes are open, our eyes are open … wide. This seemed to be the best place to start as Rado had once been seen there (on September 12, right there, in front of the Waverly. But unfortunately, we lost his address.) To their surprise [Yea!] and disappointment [No], a large CLOSED sign greeted them. It seems that due to budget cuts the museum had shortened it’s hours, “ain‘t got no money, ain‘t got no class …” [The hours now only have 40 minutes in them.] Ol’ P theorized that there should be someone in the city who could help them, after all it is only 1 square mile wide, [which made it significantly smaller than the Municipality of Outer Maldonia, where someone will always help you.]

We’re looking for an aging hippie in a knit cap … have you seen him, tell me, have you seen him?

As they walked down Washington St., Ol’ P noticed something strange. There was no one in Hoboken who seemed to be over 30. [“This is my kind of place,” he thought.] What happened to all the older folk? (Remember the aforementioned youth of America?) [No, they’re probably paddling with the Malden Yacht Club.] He approached a  button-downed young man in typical Wall St. attire, and perhaps being reminded of his young son in finance, who still lives ‘cross that very big pond, struck up a conversation.

“Excuse me,” he started to the startled young fellow. “We are researching the origins of “HAIR”. It was written here in the 60’s and we would like to find one of the writers who lives here. And he was a genius, genius … He is possibly the oldest living Hippie.”

[OK, I’m all for fiction and exaggeration, but PLEASE, there has to be at least a scintilla of truth in our stories. Would the Ol’ Philosophizer ever speak like that about anything related to “60” unless it is to promote the movement “60 is the new 16?” Huh? Would he? Geez, I gotta take back control of the Blog!]

Ol’ P, Get hold of yourself!

[OK … I’ve chilled out … I’m all groovy …let’s get back to the story.]

The confused young urban professional stared for a minute, then answered, “ HAIR?”

Yes Hair, long beautiful hair, shining, streaming, gleaming flaxen waxen!

Though I Did Liveth Four Hundred Years Ago, Mine Head Haveth Longeth Beautiful Hair, That Shineth, Gleameth And Streameth Flaxen Waxen 

“Can’t say I’ve heard of it,” he continued. Then “What’s a Hippie?” asked the Yuppie.(I  would just like to say that it is my conviction that longer hair and other flamboyant affectations of appearance are nothing more than - a fine definition of a hippie.)  

As the threesome walked down the quiet streets of Hoboken they were met with similar responses. No one had any knowledge of the 60’s. (How can people be so heartless? How can people be so cruel?) It was as if the past had been erased. Discouraged, feeling the earth to be no other thing than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors,  the adventurers walked down First St. toward the train, deep in conversation, never noticing the tall blonde man with the knit cap walking past them in the opposite direction. [Maybe the ladies didn’t notice him, but I did. I even talked to him. It was Pauldo, who was looking for Campmor so he could load up on more gear for the Champlain trip. But he was lost and couldn’t understand how it happened. He had even taken the precaution of getting directions from Captain Mike.]

“Well,” said Ol’ P, “ I guess we’ll have to look elsewhere to find the story of “HAIR” … like maybe in a local watering hole!”

“I don’t think so,” said Mrs. Ol’ P. “Let’s just go and see the play, there should be info in the PlayBill. Maybe we will even find that harmony and understanding, sympathy and trust abound there. No more falsehood or derision …”

“Argghhh,” groaned the Ol’ Philosophizer. “NO MORE SINGING!” This wouldn’t be allowed in my version of Ol’ Phamelot!

Always one to put a good spin on things, Gotham Girl suggested “Or you can always go to the website to get the answers.”

[To draw the final curtain on this sad story, let me simply say that we did attend a matinee performance of HAIR, which was most memorable for the unique way that the actors cooled off at the end of the first act. Then, both Mrs. Ol’ P and I stood on the sidewalk outside the theater bawling our eyes out … Mrs. Ol’ P, because that is what she does at the conclusion of depressing musicals that make no sense, and me, because Mrs. Ol’ P wouldn’t let me go to a watering hole. With luck, this sight may have cured Gotham Girl from ever instigating another adventure in the sometimes (when you don’t expect it) Naked City. And that, folks, ends this tale. Maybe now you have some insight into why I am the way that I am.]

 Next time I’m going to read my contract … especially the part about the costumes!

We’re Going To Have A Party

Now that you’re in the mood for culture, here is some information on the most culturally uplifting event that has been scheduled so far in this year of the Quadricentennial. That, of course, would be the Malden Yacht Club Opening Day Celebration. In a tradition of greater standing than the Quadricentennial itself, the Malden Yacht Club has held an opening day party for years and years … OK, make that year and year. We have had two of them. But that’s about to change, because in two short weeks, we are going to have number 3. And “three” is a significant number in this year’s celebration. “How so” you ask? Let me tell you.

This year’s edition will be held at the mini-park, on Sunday, May 3, in the afternoon. As in past years, this will be a meet, greet and eat meat fete, and most people who attended either of the first two opening days will probably agree that these are an enjoyable time. But they are not all fun and games for the organizers. No, there are some very difficult tasks that must be completed in order to pull this thing off. The two hardest jobs for this endeavor are picking the day, and deciding on a theme. I’ve already done the first for you, and I’m about to do the second. You gotta love me, don‘t you? (DON’T ANSWER THAT ONE - IT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION!)

The Malden Yacht Club Cinco de Malden Party Was A Huge Hit Until The Groucho Marx Impersonator Chased The Women Around The Park With His Rubber Duck

The theme for an opening day celebration must refer in some way to the date chosen, while conveying to all who might attend, the insouciance that marks the Malden Yacht Club. Thus, our first opening day (on May 5) was “Cinco de Malden,” while the second (on Mother’s Day) was “TUMMY CODPIECE” (The Unofficial Mother of all Malden Yacht Club Opening Day Parties Involving Every Clueless Eccentric.) This year, I have made the theme considerations much more complex, if you can imagine anything being more complex than a TUMMY CODPIECE.  In addition to the two traditional requirements already mentioned, the theme must acknowledge the spirit of exploration and discovery that is being honored by this year’s recognition of the Quadricentennial, while at the same time conveying a collective club craving for a coming Malden Yacht Club-style season. And so, having taken all that into consideration, under the power vested in me as the Master and Commander, Ol’ Philosophizer, Outhouse Man, and the Editor of the Blog, I have decided that the theme for this year’s opening day celebration … one that will be held on May 3 … will … drum roll, please… be …

“May 3 Stooges Guide Your Way Day”

As in past celebrations, the primary purpose of this get-together is to coax, cajole or shame those recalcitrant paddlers, who have not yet made an appearance this year, to get their butts in motion and their ’yaks in the water. The bait is food and libation … we of the Malden Yacht Club are a simple people, our needs are sub-simple, and our wants are so far below basic that a piece of cheese on a cracker serves us well as a most efficient bait. So you can imagine the response when meat flambé is involved. Last year we had twice the number of diners than we had seen paddle in all the previous years combined. And that was fantastic, because it fit very well with our secondary purpose.

Me? I’m Not Doin’ Much … Just Makin’ Meat Flambe, The Bad Idea Man Way

You see, in addition to gorging, chugging, burping, and wenching, we use this occasion to invite anyone who has ever yearned to paddle with the cavepersons (no sense me trying to be PC at this stage of the game) cavemen of kayaking to come to the park, and check us out. If you are reading this blog, but don’t claim kinship with the Malden Yacht Club, nor can you decide if you want to, let me simply ask you these questions. Do you like the water? Do you like to laugh? Do you like to laugh so hard that you shoot beer through your nose and wet your pants? These are among the attributes that the Malden Yacht Club values highly. There are many, many more, and I could go on for hours describing them (that’s no exaggeration; I could go on for hours - just ask anyone), but I won’t. I will simply invite you to come to the Malden Pollution Solution and Redistribution Institution on Sunday, May 3, and observe the MYC in it’s native habitat. You might think of this as a trip to the zoo, or you might consider this event to be the annual Malden Yacht Club Open Outhouse. We, on the other hand, simply understand that this may be our one and only chance to identify new prospects, because the best time for us to snare those suckers is when we’re not on the water!

Quadricentennial Poems, Like Ogden Nash Tomes, Can Challenge Your Dome

Last week I posted another contest, that being the Ogden Nash Write-Alike Contest. Since the theme of this week’s blolumn seems to be “culture,” I can make the case that it is appropriate to return to this contest so quickly. The challenge was to write an Ogden Nash style poem about the Quadricentennial Celebration, and so far the Bad Idea Man has jumped into the fray with gusto. In fact, he seems to be having so much fun with this, that I thought I would try my hand. Maybe that will encourage the rest of you to wax poetic. Here is my Nashapentennial effort, which you might also find explorational explainational and educational.

Henry Hudson’s Cousin, Huckleberry Hudson, Finds More Than He Expects

This, being the year of the Quadricentennial
Makes some folks all misty-eyed and sentimentennial.
And a person who’s governed by sentiment,
May miss some obscure facts of the honored event.
But the Malden Yacht Club is quite fortunate
To have Ol’ P, though some think his contests tend to be importunate,
Yet he is a resource who will explain in extreme detail
Little known facts that historians omit from the tale.

In 1609 Dutch traders had a big problem
That they couldn’t solve, which truly did vex them.
“We have so many goods to be shipped and sold in the East,
Like tulip bulbs, Little Dutch Boy paint, and brewer’s yeast,
But all of our ships must sail ‘round the tip of Africa,
And be exposed to antics of barbarous pirates from Somalia.”
So they posted an advertisement for adventurers to explore to the west,
Thinking it was manifest to suggest that the west is best.

That position they did bestow upon one Henry Hudson,
Whose first act was to summon from Helsinki his favorite second cousin,
A sailor, whose prowess for navigating Finnish fjords was quite sovereign,
Who was named Huckleberry P. Hudson, but was called “Huck P. Finn.”
Together, Huck and Hank did sail west ‘cross the ocean wide
‘Til they reached a wide river that flowed with the tide.
“This must be the Hudson” pondered Hank to Huck
“To find a river that’s named for us is a stroke of luck.”

At the same time, French traders had a big problem
That they couldn’t solve, which truly did vex them.
“We have many goods to be shipped and sold in the East,
Like French toast, French fries, and gowns that are tres modiste.”
So they copied the Dutch, and sought an explorer too
Who would carry their flag ‘cross the ocean blue.
That they failed in this attempt no one can declaim
Or the Hudson - Champlain Quadricentennial would be minus a name.

You know that the explorer from France was Samuel de Champlain
But I bet you can’t make a guess as to his first mate’s name,
Which means you probably weren’t paying attention in stanza three
Because the hints there are clear and obvious, at least to me.
The first French mate’s formal title was Marquis d’ Champlain II,
But he has become known as Marq d’ Twain by me and you.
O’er the Atlantic, up the St. Lawrence, did sail Marq and Sam
And coincidently, they ended up on a lake that was named for tham.

This leaves us with four explorers tramping about the same vicinity
Making it much too crowded, a fact that was very clear to see.
So Marq d’ Twain and Huck P. Finn looked for rivers farther west
And eventually joined forces at a water source, on a mountain crest.
Suggested Marq to Huck “our names, in explorer’s lists, do belong
Though “The Marquis d’ Champlain II - Huckleberry P. Hudson a/k/a/ Huck the Finn     River Seekers and Searchers Task Force” might be a trifle long.
So why don’t we leave out our middle names - who would MISS-a-d’-P?
And while we’re at it, I think we should also skip the Mississippi.”

Off they went, aware that they might expose their journey to wreck and ruin
“’Tis quite possible” Huck said, “cause we don’t claim to know what we’re doin’,
And even though that might serve well as a Malden Yacht Club motto,
It sure don’t do much to proclaim and promote our own bravado.”
Undaunted, they paddled new kayaks down a torrent, so foamy, wet and red,
It looked as if the canyon gouged the Earth ‘til it wept and bled.
And that folks, is a Quadricentennial tale from a tall tale aficionado
Of how Mark Twain and Huck Finn discovered another river - the mighty Colorado!

“After You, Huck.”  “Oh No, Mark. I Insist, You First. “  “I Couldn’t, Huck. You Should Launch First.”

“Oh Crap, Where’s Splash When You Need Him The Most?”

Oh, And One Or More More Things

While on the subject of May 3 Stooges Guide Your Way Day, I have a proposal that will insure that this could be the best opening day yet. Let’s add entertainment! Due to a recent incident at the Malden Pollution Solution and Redistribution Institution that resulted in the reduction of all of the picnic tables to a pile of ashes, the Municipality of Outer Maldonia (MOM) had added electricity to the mini-park. Rumor has it that MOM is going to install lights and a nanny-cam to check on the rug river rats. So I think that we should make use of this improvement by … TA DA … showing Three Stooges shorts during May 3 Stooges Guide Your Way Day. It just so happens that I own a four volume DVD collection of Three Stooges classics (does this surprise anyone?) that I will bring, as long as someone else figures out how to projectify them (hey, once again I’m doing all the heavy lifting here, so …) Is there any better way to convey what the Malden Yacht Club stands for than by showing six hours worth of the Three Stooges?

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

People of my generation can’t be expected to have a good grasp on the concept of “blogging,”and I am quite aware that the Malden Yacht Club Blog doesn’t fit the mold. Our posts are too long, too infrequent, and perhaps a tad too silly and sophomoric to place us in the category of traditional blogs. I tend to think of this as a weekly MYC Newsletter, without the news but with plenty of letters, which is delivered bright and early every Saturday morning. Reading the “Saturday Evening Post” and “Mad Magazine” in my youth no doubt left quite an impression, and there is no chance that I will change how I do this. Just ask Mrs. Ol’ P. But the fact that I might be somewhat stubborn in my approach to blogging does not prevent me from enjoying the contents of other, more hip, and current blogs. As some of you may remember, I have been following the frogma blog for several reasons. For one thing, it is written by a paddler who is obviously quite skilled, both as a paddler and writer. And for a second, that blog is a hub for people who enjoy the water, including some very, very talented paddlers. But most importantly, I thought the site might contain information that could be useful to those MYC paddlers who thirst for a salt water experience. Well, guess what? I was right! A recent blolumn on the frogma blog (April 16, “Dedication of New Dock …”) provided details about an open house being held by the Sebago Canoe Club on May 30. You know what this means, don’t you? ROAD TRIP!

Previews Of Coming Distractions

April 25:  This will be the penultimate episode of the MYC on Lake Champlain. Which is appropriate, because I will describe an incident in which, had the Ol’ P behaved badly, his ultimate destination could have been the pen. But you all know that this couldn’t happen, especially to someone as prim and proper as the Ol’ Philosophizer.

May 2:  Since this post will be the day before the May 3 Stooges Guide Your Way Day, I will have to try to set the appropriate mood. Hmmm. This will probably also be a good time to update you on both sets of plans for MOM’s Quadricentennial Flag Tag. Both sets? Of course. We have the official plans (theirs) and the top secret plans (ours). Looks like I’m going to have to figure out how to post part of this in invisible ink.