Midwest Memo
Picnic lunch
by Alan Shultz

The cousins were in from California over the weekend and the visiting included a picnic set for Sunday afternoon. Weather was consulted, desserts were assigned, an activity was planned, and a time and meeting place established.

When food and family finally assembled in the late afternoon we had a true entourage of 16 or so, and a span of several city blocks between us and our destination. Off we headed with two large coolers on wheels, pillows and blankets in tow, picnic baskets in hand and one little bitty baby in stroller. We qualified as a parade just shy an official permit.

I don't know what it is about food outdoors and far removed from the counters on which it was made. All I know is that a picnic lunch takes on its own special flavor. Be it a fancy feast of great preparation or a baloney sandwich with a tad of mayo, food hauled "off-site" so to speak is just something in its own culinary category.

We were prepared to eat on the ground this particular venture out, but earlier in the week I had spied some picnic tables with huge potential. How does one reserve two adjacent tables in a busy public park? Well, one doesn't. But when we arrived one was empty and we grabbed it without hesitation. Seeing our size, and I suppose our potential volume, the folks at the adjoining table make a quick exit headed to their next stop. We were lucky, we were timely, we were set.

Only a short week before, my wife and her friend Mary had headed off to a park with lunch in hand for a smaller version of our Sunday activity. On that particular afternoon they were joined by little stinging bees, tiny bitting ants and humidity that hung in the air like wet laundry that refuses to dry. Picnics rarely come with the guarantee of a good time.

For whatever reason, this past Sunday afternoon, in this particular corner of the park, at these particular picnic tables, at our assembled time, well, the bugs took flight, the squirrels headed elsewhere and that "guy" we've all encountered at some time, the one with the loud boom box, well he was absent possibly off buying batteries for his well used music machine.

It was perfect, all of it, the food, the visiting, the setting. Pleasant folks strolling by stopped to admire the baby. A band played off in the distance to add an element of festivity. A man on stilts walked by to entertain. The cameras all seemed to work. Two homeless guys who stopped to "chat" enjoyed a little dessert we shared with them, but made their timely departure.

The cousins came, the food got made, the weather cooperated and a good time was had by all.

This just in

Have you ever listened to the story of a friend or family member wishing they'd speed up to the point or the punch line? In some of the writing

classes I've taken they make

you cut and prune to the bare bones of the story. Edit, edit, edit, they say. Cut to the action.

I once wrote a story for submission to a collection of short stories. Just prior to the deadline for submissions I reread the submission guidelines. My story was twice as long as they were looking for. In a frantic chopping of words and editing of sentences I lopped off here and there to get to the recommended word count. My story, lean as it seemed, was better than before and actually got published.

But it's hard to do, being efficient with words and succinct with speech.

And what about those voice mail messages from callers who go on and on?

Well now there's CallWave - a voice recognition software that listens to your voice mail for you, edits what it hears and gives you the short essential message. (Callwave.com) Imagine the possibilities, the savings in time. Can we bring it to Thanksgiving dinner? Will it work with the chatty guy on the plane seated next to you?

Oh, I have my misgivings. What if they invent a scanner for this column?

"Shultz went on picnic, no bugs."