The conversation started something like this: Snookums walked into the room and spotted me settled back in my easy chair in what she imagined was deep contemplation. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Really? You sure have a serious look on your face to be thinking about nothing,” she said, as she surveyed the magazines resting on my lap.
I can’t speak for the rest of mankind, but “nothing” and its cousins “nowhere” and “not me” have been the default responses I developed sometime around the second grade. I’d discovered early in life that trying to explain my thoughts was even tougher than explaining my actions. As a rule, “nothing” serves as a first line of defense that might prevent further scrutiny. More often than not, it’s also the truth. Still, doubt abounds.
I think it might have been Einstein who pointed out that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Experience has taught me that any further insistence that I was thinking of “nothing” will likely be interpreted with severe suspicion — which causes Snookums to look carefully at the stack of whatever I’ve been recently reading. This has caused me to change strategies. While I’ll still blurt out “nothing” as a conditioned response, I’ll fess up during any further inquiries.
“Well, it’s around midsummer, and I was wondering if the stock market for grape values goes up this time of year. The amount of grape jelly being fed by birdwatchers to all the Baltimore and orchard orioles has to push the supply market to the edge to meet the demand. Then you need to consider the cat birds and red-bellied woodpeckers that add to the feeding pressure on those oriole feeders — it has to be thousands of gallons of grape jelly consumed by birds just in Ohio!” I explained.
“Then consider that school starts in September. A lot of those kids will be packing peanut butter and jelly for lunch and most of them are going for grape. Shortages in grape jelly could create a goldmine for investors. Then you toss in added marketing pressure that autumn wine makers are having on the grape markets. You also need to consider the unknowns, like how many jelly feeders are raided and destroyed by raccoons. That amounts to losses akin to shoplifting and vandalism. Can that cause a shortage and equivocal stock market increases for oriole feeders? Could that possibly open up secondary investment possibilities? It’s all about supply and demand… so, what do you think?” I asked.
Somewhat confused, Snookums looked at me and said, “It’s only the first week in July, it’s not quite midsummer yet, is it?”
“You know, that’s the other thing I was thinking about. You’re half right, but you’re half wrong. Some people use the summer solstice to describe the midpoint of summer. Depending how you choose to measure it, the mid-point of summer can fall on different dates. The Summer Solstice usually lands around June 21, so we’re already past that date. That’s what makes you half wrong. It’s called the astronomical midpoint, marking the longest day of the year. What’s kind of confusing is that the Summer Solstice is often described as the beginning of the astronomical summer, but in Europe, it’s considered the exact middle of the season,” I clarified.
“Then there’s the seasonal temperature lag, which pushes a meteorological and historical recognition of the midsummer timeframe somewhere between Aug. 1 and Aug. 7, which are also traditionally the warmest days of the year. Of course, you should always consider the accuracy of using mathematics when identifying the midpoint of summer.”
“According to the Farmer’s Almanac, that actual date falls halfway between the summer solstice and the fall equinox. Everybody knows that the fall equinox marks the moment when the sun crosses the celestial equator, signaling the start of autumn in the Northern Hemisphere. Interestingly, it also marks the start of spring in the Southern Hemisphere. This year, the mathematical calculations place the date for midsummer as Aug. 7, making you half right.” I said in conclusion. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“Oh,” she said, glancing back at the open Orvis and Bass Pro catalogs on my lap. “I thought you were looking at those fishing reels,” she said quietly.
“I was just glancing at them … there’s this one fly reel that’s very nice and would be a great replacement for my old one. It has a lot of advantages in its clutch design, but I guess I don’t really need it.” I said as I held the catalog up for her to look at. “I can explain the differences and why it might be worth it…”
“No, that’s all right. I’m sure you’ve thought it through thoroughly. If you want it, I think you should get it,” Snookums said over her shoulder as she hurried out of the room.
That, folks, is how you earn a new fishing reel.
“The honors and rewards fall to those who show their good qualities in action.”
— Aristotle
