In the
truck the other day, on our way to Northport, the radio was playing an old
Jimmy Buffet song, one I’d never listened to closely and wasn’t listening to
closely that morning, either. My attention was directed beyond the windshield,
my eyes scanning for deer and turkeys. We’ve been seeing a lot of both, the
deer dark and lithe this time of year, the male turkeys all strutting and
fanning their tails. So, as I say, I wasn’t listening closely, but the refrain
kept repeating (as refrains will do) until it penetrated my consciousness. Huh?
What was he
singing?
“What to the left, and what to the right?” I asked David.
“Fins,”
he answered – but I heard the answer as “Finns,” and that seemed strange, coming
from Buffet.
“Is it
a U.P. song?” I asked.
David
cracked up. “Fins!
‘You’re the only bait in town!’" he added as clarification.
“There’s
plenty of fishing in the U.P.,” I protested, defending my interpretation.
“Remember the bait machine outside our motel in Manistique?”
“It’s about sharks,” David insisted – and of
course he was right.
But if
you know the U.P., can’t you see that small town bar, all the local Finns lined
up with draft beers after a day of ice fishing, and then a lone woman walks in?
David
shook his head. “Finns,” he reminded me, "wouldn’t even speak to
her. It isn’t the same thing at all.”
I
wonder. After all, with logic, everything depends on your premises. Of course, my premises
depended on only hearing the refrain and not the verses. The rest of the song tells the story clearly. Oh, well!
