Memorial Day

Last week, the Oehlschlaeger family got through an entire major holiday without anyone storming out, crying, threatening to move across country, or locking themselves in a room and responding, when other family members knocked on the door, "I'm dead. Consider me DEAD from now on."

Ahem.

This particular bout of functionality on Memorial Day was thanks to the fact that it was sunny, warm, and a perfect day to head, like everyone else in New England, for Mt. Monadnock for a hike. Father Oehlschlaeger grabbed his ski poles, Mother Oehlschlaeger prepared the packs, Daughter Oehlschlaeger pulled her hair into an irreverent side ponytail, and they were off. Daughter read Omega workshop descriptions aloud for entertainment on the drive up. It was decided that she will soon be hosting her own workshop series in "Unconscious Living," a theme she explored in depth during her years in California.

Anyhoo, they somehow arrived at the mountain despite the fact that their trail guide was from the 1940's.

"If it worked then," goes Frank Oehlschlaeger's philosophy, "Why wouldn't it work now?"

They had trouble locating the golf course they were supposed to turn left across from, and the gazebo that followed shortly thereafter. There was, however, still a lake, so they based their navigational system on that. Soon they came across a trail head, but Father Oehlschlaeger insisted they press on.

"We want the DUBLIN trail," he said.

So they drove and drove, but no new trail heads were found. Eventually the female navigators staged a coup and they turned around. They returned to the lake. They turned around again, passing the trail head for the third time, and turned into some dirt roads where they got a nice tour of country neighborhoods. They were now driving directly away from the mountain, as the youngest and wisest member of the family pointed out, but Mother Oehlschlaeger refused to listen and instead stopped to ask for directions from some joggers.

"Uh, the mountain's back that way," the joggers said.

And so the Oehlschlaeger family turned around for the fourth time, conceding defeat, and made their way to the main trail head. They were greeted at the booth by an enthusiastic young main named "Forrest," the irony of which was not wasted on anyone. The map that Forrest provided was from 2010, and explained why they hadn't found the golf course, the gazebo, or the Dublin Trail, since none of them currently existed.

The senior members of the family took unnecessary amounts of time to ready themselves for the brief hike, while the junior member grew increasingly impatient, declining bugspray, a pack, a map, and a whistle, despite her father's cryptic queries as to what would happen when she broke a leg and got stranded in the dark and then it started to snow. She rolled her eyes, grabbed a water bottle, and charged ahead up a trail that turned out to lead to a second parking lot. She did an about face and charged around some more until she found where her parents were hiking, and then she charged ahead of them.

Now this story is about to change into 1st person omniscient, because this third person thing is getting obnoxious.

I had been charging for quite some time, and when I came out above tree line my water bottle was empty and it was hot and I was feeling a bit woozy. I figured my parents couldn't be too far behind, since I'd cycled back to them once or twice for snacks, and at one point I'd heard my father yelling obscenities when he tripped over a rock. I perched on a ledge and waited. Eventually someone came out on a ledge below, and stood taking in the view, and it looked like my mother.

"Heyyy!" I yelled, waving. She turned, and waved back.

"Hi!" She yelled.

"Hurry up and bring the water!" I yelled. "I'm thirsty!"

"What?" She yelled.

"THIRSTY!!"

There was a pause, and I was getting annoyed by the fact that she wasn't making any move to come join me.

"Are you coming?!" I yelled.

"You come down here!" She yelled back.

"What? No! You're coming up anyway!" I yelled, wondering why this was so difficult.

"I've already been up!" She was now saying, "I'm not going again! I'm too OLD!"

And that's about the time I realized that she had a Chinese accent, and she was not, in fact, my mother.

(To be continued.... )