THE PUBLIC SHELF

Open when you need a laugh

Two words: smoked lemonade.

You know exactly what I'm talking about. The camping trip at Lake Arrowhead, the marshmallow that caught fire, your scream, which I would describe as a teakettle having a crisis, and the moment you panicked and threw the flaming marshmallow directly into the cooler. With all the drinks. And then slammed the lid shut like you'd trapped a raccoon.

We drank smoked lemonade for two days. You said it was artisanal. Danny tried to sell a cup to the family at the next campsite for three dollars, and they bought it.

I have thought about that marshmallow at funerals. I have thought about it in job interviews. I once thought about it during a very serious meeting with my landlord and had to pretend I was coughing.

Here is the thing I don't think you know about yourself. You are the funniest person I've ever met, and you're usually not even trying. You make bad days survivable for everyone around you. I don't think anyone has ever told you that, so I'm putting it in writing where you can't wave it off.

Now go make yourself a lemonade. Keep it away from open flames.

Owen

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