ROBIEWANKENOBIE

For my friend Phooey.

Let me introduce Mount Lassen Volcanic National Park, CA. Internets? Mount Lassen. Mount Lassen? Internets. Anywhoodadoodle, on the great trek across the U.S. to acquire authentic Pacific Northwest Indian cuisine, we camped there.

It snowed. I was a little concerned about this. Heck, I was 12, and just past my "camping is cool" prime. As long as there were flush toilets and a place to plug a hair dryer, I was pretty game, but snow? Snow might be pushing it. Turned out it was insulating, and if nothing else, awesome because the breakfast over the camp stove that morning? Glorious. It had that early morning camp smell, and daggone it the kind of eggs that a person swoons over when they rub their sleepy eyes and stumble out of a tent.

My guess is that we stayed at the Manzanita Lake Campground. It had a campfire program, and we're kind of nerdy suckers to enjoy that sort of thing. Especially since we were more and more likely to be singled out as the campers from the farthest away. A distinguished honor. We are also the kind of geeks that enjoy a tour with park rangers.

Well, we are taking an enjoyable hike with the ranger, and my Mom lets out this scream. "That little bird! It just went under the water!" Poor little thing was drowning. My father looks over calmly and says, "It swims under water, dear. It's a Water Oozle. The park ranger verifies this, and we are all impressed with my father's vast knowledge.

I don't know how long it was before we found out that the only reason my father had any idea what this rare swimming bird was like was because one of his students did a speech about it in class. Turns out the kid couldn't find a topic, opened and encyclopedia and pointed his finger to the Water Oozle.

A fine example of my father's ability to absorb obscure knowledge, and his willingness to wait yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeears for the perfect timing to come about for some hijinks.