People compliment me on my ability to remember things. This is a man secret I’m going to let you guys in on. Gather round. When planning auspicious events like weddings, divorces, and babies (if you’re really good at it), might I suggest a little trick for remembering them later in life.

Most of us have that insane proclivity to assign a password for entry into a site that requires it and then promptly forget about it. After a while you have a veritable library of passwords and forget which one goes where. Likewise your anniversary can sneak up on you and catch you unawares. Cupcake’s birthday is an example, too.

The old adage of KISS (keep it simple, stupid) is my saving grace. This is why I married Cupcake the day after Pearl Harbor day. In fact, Cupcake’s birthday almost always ends up being two days after Opening Day for High Buck season. While it is easy to remember, I get in trouble for not being there. In spite of entreaties to have it legally changed to say, Veteran’s Day or Labor Day, my request continues to fall on deaf ears. After twenty five years, I’ve given up asking. In 1992, she asked me what my plans were for her big forty year bash. I honestly said “Honey, I’m going to miss you.” That was hands-down the most expensive birthday bash I never attended but paid for in my life. More Dom Perignon was consumed than I can conceive of. Her American Express Card glowed in the dark for a year. It went through the scanner so many times it could have powered a Prius for a decade with all the excess electrons flying around in it. I always come back for a day now but the damage is done. That’s the sympathy card to play if you want a bigger diamond in the wedding ring. I expect it will mushroom up to a carat this time next year.

Memorial Day Weekend in Washington is another good example.  It’s two weeks before inland rivers open for fresh water fishing. Who was the bozo that dreamed up that rule? Didn’t anyone ever hear of killing four birds with one stone?  Come on. Remember the fallen; barbecue, fishing and time with family. This is a win-win for all.  Since I was taught the art of poaching early in life by one of the greatest ( my Daddy), I set up the perfect decoy arrangement and always get the big ones on the vacation. You invite Cupcake and the kids to go with and then pre-position them in camp near the river. What the hey? Give ’em a rod, too. Meanwhile, tell her nature calls and you are going to hunt up that perfect place for the act. Walk out of camp with the shovel heading down river and shout back that you’ve found a promising spot and will dig a hole.  Promptly skirt around camp, pick up your pre-positioned fishing pole and the net and sneak off up the river and dial in those huge 2 lb. Doll Varden and some Cutthroats. Nobody’s been fishing them for over 8 months so they are dumb as a post and will strike on anything. On the way back, carefully stash them and waltz into camp. Nine times out of ten you’ll find the game warden has already showed up and busted them while you were making the big score. Wardens are far more forgiving where tearful wives are threatening divorce if they ever get their hands on the significant other for this stunt. Most forego giving the ticket to the dependents and set off downstream in search of you. All is better when you pull out the stash and ask for a trophy photo.  Never ever put the fish in the ice chest.  When you pack up to leave, scout the trail back to the vehicle without them (the fish, not the family) and make sure the Warden hasn’t circled back on you. This works well with fishing as it’s not noisy. Duck hunting is right out.

Likewise, as I have an affinity for April Fool’s day jokes, I wisely planned my birth for that day. Very few people, let alone sperm,  have the foresight to plan that far ahead.   I have other mantricks but do not feel obligated to share them all in one sitting.  Happy Pearl Harbor Day and remember those poor souls who were sandbagged that day seventy one years ago.