Of Fair Ladies Fish & Men

 It is a good thing I got to work in the hospice booth, since I don't have a swirly skirt, a hoola- hoop, or sparkles in my hair. "You could," JJ said, showing me hers. She suggested silver strands of tinsel for my graying hair. Still, even on my bad knee I managed to dance to a bouncy blue grass band last night. Although, nearby in the shuffling, clapping crowd my friend Tom announced that bands without drums should be banned after 9:00pm. They are too hard to dance to. It didn't look to me like anybody noticed. I don't think you could have fit anyone else on the dance floor. Ketchikan artist Ray Troll is in a band too, which I hope to catch today, and he is doing a presentation at Dalton City that you shouldn't miss, it is a slide show about his career from the iconic "Spawn 'Till You Die" T-shirts to his natural history museum work on fish and prehistoric sea creatures. It is entertaining and interesting and you may learn something about Rat Fish and our earliest ancestors who climbed out of the primordial muck to dance on land. Speaking of swimming mammals, and gene pools, my dad, Papa Bob, is swimming across the Hudson River today up above the Clinton wedding in Rhinebeck, at Newburg. Let's hope it goes better than his laps in Rutzebeck Lake earlier this summer. He has promised me he won't try to race. Last week he was swimming in the surf at Montauk. He said the weather was warm but the beach was empty, thanks to the big waves and signs about a dangerous undertow."No one was swimming," he said, "except me, and I'll be 77 in September." He said he dove in and was swept 450 yards down the beach, and that coming out he did about four somersaults and filled his suit with sand. His new knee held. "And so it goes." (He says that a lot) "What's wrong with young people today? Why don't they swim in the ocean?" He said. 

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