HUMAN WRECKAGE

Corpse Reviver No. 2

Ann and I had been missing my sister Anne and her husband Al. They arrived in Edmonton late last month from Montreal for a week’s visit although arrival and departure days don’t really tally up to seven. Normally Ann and I head east. We speak frequently and the four of us travel well together. Our group had been on pandemic hiatus for a couple of years.

When the family bonds are healthy and strong you need not worry about hosting frenetic entertainment and activities, distractions; the joy lies simply in proximity and presence, just hanging out. Ann and I know Anne’s and Al’s preferences. I knew they’d rifle the shelf of paperbacks in our basement needing something to read during their stay and I knew they’d do it again Monday morning a few hours before AC 334 was due for liftoff. I ensured the Crooked 9 stereo was spinning the good old stuff, Tony Joe White, Sonny & Brownie and Todd Rundgren. Ann had previously altered our usual errands, amending our grocery lists and retailers. We were prepared to grant one additional degree of central heating complemented by tobacco scented fleece jumpers. We also deployed the emergency space heater in the guest room.

“Come and laugh about our funny little ways…” 

My sister Anne is a medical doctor, only semi-retired because the patients in the clinic she oversees need tending and advocacy in a health care system plagued by covid. Al is semi-retired too, a dedicated researcher in a specialized area of health science. And don’t you want a scientist mixing up the medicine come five o’clock? Ann and I thought we’d thought of everything, bags of lemons and limes, and new bottles in our liquor cabinet. Even the ice cubes in the freezer were freshly frozen - Rolling Stones tongue logo moulds and everything. The master of toxicology disagreed because a Ziploc leftovers container just wouldn’t do as a cocktail shaker. I didn’t dare suggest that our Rubbermaid stuff might have a better seal.

Our primary group excursion during their visit was a search for a proper cocktail shaker and an arcane ingredient or two for a proper Corpse Reviver No. 2. The cocktail dates from the Great Depression. It’s thought to have been conceived at London’s Savoy Hotel and subsequently refined stateside by the legendary Trader Vic. It’s a delicious, addictive mix of gin, orange liqueur, lemon juice and absinthe, originally concocted as an alcoholic hangover cure: a tart start to another perfect day back then.

There’s an array of yard tools stood against the side of the house outside the back door: a shovel, two types of ice chippers and two differently shaped fan rakes. It’s springtime in Edmonton. My sister’s past visits have always been more obligation than vacation, uncomplainingly driven by family events. This one was just because, different. Ann and I hoped our various weather apps would reach some sort of agreeable concord about blue sky and solar heat for our dearly welcome guests.

Saturday’s afternoon blossomed into a still and golden Happy Hour. We took our handmade cocktails outside and took seats on the front porch of the Crooked 9. We discussed big important stuff: Who does the best version of “Rainy Night in Georgia”? We talked trivialities: family matters and national affairs. But mostly we just basked in a comfortable silence and the sun machine’s warm beams, cradling our Corpse Revivers.

“Well, we’ve had a few minutes to breathe…”        

meGeoff has been your most unreliable, unbalanced and inaccurate alternative source of thanks and praise for John Sebastian lyrics since 2013. My novella Of Course You Did is my latest book. Visit www.megeoff.com to find your preferred format and retailer.