We can’t tell our holidays even with a scorecard

Emmitt B. Feldner • forThe Review

We seem to have fallen into some sort of state of holiday confusion.

It’s to the point where I wouldn’t be surprised to see Santa come down our chimney on the Fourth of July and somebody shoot off fireworks on Christmas Day.

It all began earlier this year when Terry and I celebrated Mother’s Day by going to a Brewers game.

I’m the big baseball fan in this family, so it might not seem an appropriate venue for a Mother’s Day celebration, but Terry does enjoy going to live games and it was a bobble head giveaway she wanted, so it really was her idea.

Then we hit Father’s Day and a family get together with sons and grandsons at home.

I had the grill out and was just getting it fired up when Ethan and Alex showed up and decided it was time to take grandpa and the three grandsons on a fishing expedition.

Never mind that their mother is the real fishing enthusiast in this couple and has been since she was a little girl.

So she goes to a Major League Baseball game on Mother’s Day and I go fishing on Father’s Day – see what I mean about mixing up our holidays?

Anyway, it was a chance to spend some time with all three of the grandsons together, so I decided it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

It did leave Terry to take care of the grilling – on our new grill that I got for a combined birthday/ Father’s Day present a few months ago – but she didn’t object.

So the six Feldner men – three generations worth – loaded up and headed to a nearby lake, with a stop to pick up some worms.

We fished off the dock at the boat launch and it quickly became my job to put worms on their hooks for Aiden and Nolan – Ty was able to manage on his own without grandpa’s help.

And it quickly became obvious it was Aiden’s and Nolan’s job to feed all the little fishies around the dock.

I guess that’s how they grow up to be big and strong – the fish, not Aiden and Nolan - because they were quickly all crowding around that part of the shore.

I don’t want to say this was a bunch of hungry little fish, but it wasn’t long before they were all climbing all over each other to get at what Aiden and Nolan were feeding them.

They were literally climbing on each other’s shoulders to get at the worms – and I never even knew that fish had shoulders.

There were enough of them and the water was shallow enough that I could have just reached in and scooped up a handful of them, but that probably wouldn’t have been a good example to set for my grandsons.

I could have done it, though, and given them to Ethan and Alex to use as bait, given the luck they were having catching anything off the end of the dock.

As I said, while we were busy feeding the hungry fish in the lake, Terry was back home grilling up hamburgers, brats and chicken.

It’s a good thing she was, because if fresh fish was on the menu we were all going to starve – or fill up on macaroni and potato salad.

Nolan finally gave up on the fishing and decided that he wasn’t going home empty-handed.

He took off his shoes, waded into the water and soon rounded up several snails to take home.

Since his grandma just bought her annual Betta fish – they never seem to last very long – he contributed the snails to her fish bowl.

Either it was a later Mother’s Day present or Nolan’s just as confused about holidays as the rest of us.

We finally wrapped up the fishing expedition with nothing to show for our efforts except for Nolan’s snails and headed back home.

Fortunately, Terry did better grilling than we did fishing and we enjoyed a nice Father’s Day meal.

Now I just can’t wait until we roast that turkey for Halloween – and to see what costumes the grandsons come up with for Thanksgiving.

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