Before we go to the racetrack, we got to stop and look in on Al’s grandson playing basketball. Little kid, and Al looks pretty glum having to tell me the boy’s name, which is Reeve …

  "Within minutes after the kid was born, we all in my daughter’s room – you know nowadays they got the whole family into the room, like it was somebody dyin’ –and she says she’s gonna name him Reeve. And I say:Don’t boys get named Jack anymore?"

  Reeve misses an easy shot under the goal and Al mumbles something about liking baseball better than this game and I come back by saying that baseball is at the mercy of the weather …

  "Well, is that a bad thing?"fires back Al. "Ithink we oughta have more things at the mercy of the weather."

  "Well, I bet Pappy don’t think so,"Isay. "He’s the grand marshal of that Krewe of Cerebus – you know, that dog parade that’s only for Rottweilers, Dobermans and pit bulls? – and he’s been calling this meteorologist every day for a week to see if it’s gonna rain on their parade."

  Al fishes a cigar out of his top pocket and begins to peel off the cellophane. "When did the weatherman become a meteorologist?" he wonders. "Was that about the same time that hairdressers became cosmetologists?"

  "I think maybe so,"I say. "But hey, you can’t light that thing up in here. Kids nowadays are allergic to smoke; it ain’t like when we was kids."

  It’s time for me to mention that Al seldom agrees with anyone, even people who try to agree with him, inasmuch as he considers his opinions as his own and does not wish to share them with anyone. So I am immediately scared that he is going to argue the merits of secondary smoke with me for the next couple of hours at least, but he doesn’t even think on it. He is still thinking about the weather. …

  "There is something wrong about people who want to predict the unpredictable,"he says. "They oughta give the weather on TV the same way they give the lottery numbers. Just let ping-pong balls come out this big machine with the numbers on them coming down at random. And they oughta be on about that long – they on twice as long as sports. How many different ways can you say it might rain tomorrow!Might!"

  "Well, they pay these guys and gals heavy coin,"Ireason cheerfully. "They trying to get their money’s worth."

  This thought really fries Al. "These people make more than Ted Williams made in his best year. In which, incidentally, he hit successfully four out of every ten times at bat. In which, incidentally, he far exceeds every weatherman which Iknow."

  I start to try to change the subject, even a little bit. "Someone told me that the two highest-rated things on TVwere the weather channel –and the program listings! This seems to be a pattern of mindlessness here."

  Al jams the unlit cigar into his mouth. "Mindless?How’s this for mindless? From MayDay to Halloween, me, you and someone who can’t feed themselves can do today’s weather in two words:Still summer. And to forecast future weather, two more words:Summer’s coming!"The cigar makes everything sound like a snarl. …

  "Iknow this rabbi who says everywhere else, summer follows spring,"Isay helpfully. "But in New Orleans, summer follows summer."

  Al turns away just in time to see his grandson dribble the basketball off his knee. "GEEZ, BOY, SLOW DOWN!YOU HURRYING LIKE AN ANT WHOSE ASS IS ON FIRE!"

  He goes back to sucking on his cigar and after a certain amount of spittle has accrued, he begins to turn philosophical.

  "See, as humans have slowly but surely taken charge of our surroundings, weather is one of the best – and highest – hurdles. And so we fear the weather. The weathermen know that and they play on that. Did you ever notice the look of self-importance on their faces when there’s a faint disturbance somewhere, anywhere? Some of ’em see a radar cloud graphic off the coast of Africa and have no trouble seeing a straight arrow going up Decatur Street. Remember Hurricane Georges? They had weathermen saying it was coming right up the river and we’d better all meet on the 42nd floor of the ShellSquare and wait to drown … ."

  The score of the game is 31-4 in favor of the team that Reeve is not a member of, so we start to put on our jackets. "Those forecasts can be confusing,"Isay with my usual straight-razor-sharp wit. "I heard of this guy who put his puppy outside wrapped in Visquine and brought in his potted plants during the last freeze warning."

  Al somehow ignores this and when we get to the door stares up glumly at the wet sky. "Iwanted to bet Bagnetto’s filly in the ninth, but she can’t stand up in this slop. Think it’ll stop raining?"

  With just a whiff of sarcasm, I say, "Idunno,Al. I didn’t watch the weather channel this morning."