Middle of Nowhere
‘WHY don’t you take a dip?” Dad asked my 12-year-old brother, Mitch.
Before Mitch could answer, Uncle Keith turned from his position at the helm of boat.
“This water’s probably as frigid at the Atlantic Ocean on the night the Titanic sank.”
Mitch rolled his eyes.
“Do you even know what the temperature was back then?”
“Of course,” Uncle Keith responded. “It was -2,2 degrees Celsius.”
“You sure?” Dad asked. “Wasn’t it colder?”
Uncle Keith was adamant and he and Dad, the older of the two, proceeded to debate the water temperature of an event which had occurred more than 100 years ago.
The boat pushed on down river and I tuned out the chatter between my uncle and father.
Uncle Keith thought he was quite the historian and an “expert” on anything from the Ming
