I read Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead a while ago because Dave suggested it. It was great so I read the sequel, Crook Manifesto, while on vacation. It was great too, sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, other times chillingly evil. Both books read like screenplays and Dave said Netflix should turn them into a series. He's right. We're currently figuring out who to cast but we agree on Eddie Murphy for the lead.
I polished Crook Manifesto off in two days and followed it up with Underground Railroad, another SoD (and maybe OBXD) recommendation (from 2016, I need to keep up). It was not at all laugh-out-loud funny but it was often chillingly evil. I am not eager to write about literature given the much greater qualifications of the Daves on staff here. However, I am comfortable opining that Underground Railroad is an incredible piece of writing. Each chapter is either a new setting with a new vibe or an eight page backstory of a secondary character. The main character rides the underground railroad (which in this novel is literally a railroad under the ground) to different destinations. As the first stationmaster tells her, "The problem is that one destination may be more to our liking than another .... You won't know what waits above until you pull in." Sometimes it reads like Brave New World, other times it's like Blood Meridian, there's a chapter like The Lottery through the eyes of Anne Frank, a smattering of Sula and maybe Beloved at the beginning, then it feels like Animal Farm for a few minutes and then it hits your stomach with a crowbar at the end. But throughout it's a horror movie, just nonstop dystopian misery. It's a must-read.
In April 2007, my wife and I went on a "babymoon" vacation before the birth of our first son. She was five months pregnant. We had no idea how ill-prepared we were for what lied ahead. But we knew that the vacation was a "last hurrah" before parenthood. We went to the Yucatan peninsula. We had a minor scare (googling the phrase "second trimester spotting" on the PC of a third world hotel is suboptimal), but ended up having a good time at Playa del Carmen and Isla Mujeres. I drank more tequila than necessary, and enjoyed a few Cubans. And some cigars too. Hey-oh!
In the years since 2007, we lost our last two remaining parents. And we have no siblings near us to babysit. So any adult time away came after paying for an overnight sitter. And that was not cheap. So we didn't do any adult traveling. Which sucked quite a bit!
But a light at the end of our adult vacation purgatory is emerging. It is sleepaway camp. Several years ago, we found out from a dad in town about a YMCA camp in the foothills of the Berkshires (western Massachusetts), near where some of us (including a very rural version of Rootsy) celebrated Dr J's wedding many years ago. I vaguely remember we ended that night doing diving football catches into a hotel pool and passing a bottle of Southern Comfort. And I think Rootsy started a hootenanny late night. I vomited the next day, seconds after exiting a train at Grand Central Station, amid a throng of young folks attending a Brazilian Day parade in Manhattan. That was fun for everybody.
Anyhoo, the camp is a values-based camp that is a pretty amazing place. Kids go for four weeks at a time, generally from the summer after third grade through the summer after eighth grade. After that, there are volunteer/travel opportunities and counselor gigs that are no joke. We know a neighbor/former camper who finished his freshman year in high school this year. He is now in Vietnam, doing a volunteer/travel program. Hopefully he hasn't seen Full Metal Jacket.
So where was I? My eldest is starting his third year at camp this year. He has become a fishing whiz who does improv acting and ultimate frisbee and got an elite badge by swimming over a mile across the lake. All these things came out of the blue. Which is awesome. That's camp. Try something new. Put yourself out there. Have fun. He has camp buddies from Boston, NY, California and other areas.
The camp is really quite cool. The link to the camp is here and there is a touching video below that makes my wife feel like there's dust in her eyes.
His experience has my younger kid fired up for camp. He will go for the first time this year. Life experience, fishing, camping, values, yadda, yadda, yadda.
But here's the rub - my wife and I will soon be empty-nesters for four weeks! It's the first time since 2007, starting Sunday July 21st. I had plans to eat cheese on my couch in my underwear, but the missus has other ideas.
So after we spend ~36 hours missing them, we will shoot down to Charleston for several days of adult activities: tourism, BBQ, booze, fine dining, sweating, relaxing by a pool, relaxing on a beach, booze, BBQ, sweat, rinse, repeat.
Charleston emerged b/c of the food scene. More specifically, I have been infatuated with the BBQ scene there. I have been itching to visit Rodney Scott's BBQ joint, which is just a mile away from town. Rodney Scott is a legend in the BBQ world. And I am irrationally excited to go there and eat the hell out of his offerings. I'm more of a pork loyalist with my BBQ, and he cooks the whole damn hog. He also won a James Beard award! That is impressive, but I don't exactly know why.
We also plan to do a day trip to Kiawah. And my wife is itching to do a trip to Columbia, SC, where she attended college her freshman year. I'm not up for that, but can use it as leverage for more BBQ. I'm looking at you, John Lewis BBQ. Any guy that worked at Franklin's in Austin and then moved to Charleston to sell that town on Texas style BBQ is worth paying attention to.
So be prepared for gluttonous comments from me next week. My wife and I have had a long run without some time to ourselves. The best we had in the past was kid camp on vacations when the kids were very young, but that's a distant memory. I have no idea if we will enjoy each other's company, but we'll enjoy the solitude. At least until my gas kicks in.
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