The word “meshugge” perfectly illustrates the levels of meaning found in Yiddish words.

Literally, it means crazy. But what kind of crazy? Well, it could be certifiably so, or just mildly nutty. Or maybe sweetly silly. “Eccentric” could be one equivalent; “goofy” could be another. Depending on who says it and their intent, it could be amateur psychobabble, a crass insult, or a term of endearment. Having been called it more than my share of times, I’m sure it was meant affectionately.

A word derived from meshugge is mishegas, which means a preoccupation. Like meshugge, it has various connotations, from a hobby or mild interest, to a full-blown obsession, or even a mad fetish.

From early childhood, I spent my life bouncing from one mishegas to another. Among them (in no order) were comic books and Mad magazine, joke telling, magic, sports, men’s adventure magazines, cartooning, wood carving, marathon running, and my latest — The Blue Buns Wheel-a-Palooza.

I mentioned TBBW in last week’s column, and to be honest, at this point it’s only a figment of my fertile and frenetic imagination. But I’ve got hopes it’s gonna take place and’ll be a flaming success. Or more exactly a freezing one.

So what is TBBW?

It’ll be a never-before seen Winter Carnival event — a bike ride through My Home Town, tentatively scheduled for the first Sunday of Carnival week.

Now I can imagine the average reaction to that description, namely, “Ho hum, yawn yawn yawn …” Being the empath I am, I can understand it. I mean, what’s interesting about a small bunch of jamokes cycling through the village? In all honestly, I’d say the answer, of and by itself, is nothing. But there are a couple of things that set it apart from other bike rides. First, it’s a fundraiser for Carnival, and second, the riders’ll be clad in bathing suits.

Ah yes, what an event! Sure to warm the cockles of the heart, while at the same time freezing the dermis off the dupa. Could anything be more perfect for a Carnival entertainment? I doubt it.

On the surface it seems no big deal. But — like all Carnival events — a helluva lot of planning and hard work have to go into it before it ever sees the light of a frigid mid-February Adirondack day. That’s why as soon as the idea hit me, I knew I had to round up a small army of people to help me. My first draftee was Bushwhack Jack Drury, Hermano Numero Dos of the Brothers of the Bush. Jack has organized enough activities that he understands logistics, plus he always sees things I don’t.

As soon as I finished telling him about it, he was all in. Then he offered his addenda.

I’d figured we’d be lucky if we got 15 riders; on the other hand, Jack dismissed that number as pure defeatism.

“Fifteen riders?” he said. “You kidding me?”

“No,” I said. “I’m serious.”

“Hell, we can have a hundred, at least!” he said. “It’s just a matter of getting the word out to the folks who’re interested. Ya only have to work all the channels of communication.”

“Brilliant!” I said. “Which is why you are now our Minister of Information.”

That was only the first point. The next one had to do with the route. I’d envisioned starting at the Hotel Saranac and ending at the ice palace, but again Jack disagreed.

“Are you serious?” he said, fairly dripping condescension. “That’s almost no ride at all. We need to start and end at the palace, making a full loop. Go down Church Street, then Main Street to the town hall, and the Lake Flower Ave. to palace.”

I chewed on that for a bit.

“That’d be more impressive for sure,” I said. “But there’s one big problem with it.”

“What’s that?”

“It’d require closing more streets in order to redirect traffic.”

“That’s not your problem,” he said breezily. “It’s the cops’.”

Which is how he also became TBBW’s Charge d’Affairs of Constabulary Communication.

Then there was one more point to discuss.

“How much you charging for an entry fee?” he said.

“I’m not,” I said.

“So how you gonna raise money?” he said.

“Sponsors,” I said.

“You think you can get them?”

“Does Howdy Doody have a wooden nose?” I said, putting that exchange to rest.

“Besides,” I added, “the sponsors’ll all get T-shirts designed by our Minister of Art and Aesthetics, Bruce ‘Big Daddy’ Young. Who could resist that?”

“No one I know,” he said. “Plus, they’re sure to become collectors’ items.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And to keep things on the level, all the sponsors’ money goes directly to the Carnival Committee. The T-shirts come outta my deep pockets.”

“Can I have one?” he said.

“Sure,” I said. “… as soon as you become a sponsor.”

OK, so I was abrupt, maybe even a tad cruel with that reply, but I figure the sooner Jack learns the harsh facts of life, the better.

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Friends in high places

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Next, I needed someone to get things squared away with the Winter Carnival Committee, since they’d have to approve and schedule the ride, in order for us to be under their insurance. And who better to do that than The ADE’s Seraph of Subscriptions, Liz Scammell Murray? No one, that’s who! Liz is a member of the Carnival committee, as well as other civic organizations and is privy to all the town buzz.

She graciously accepted the job, but like Jack, said I should charge an entry fee.

“No way,” I said.

“Why?’ she said.

“Cuz we’ll have sponsors,” I said. “Plus I wanna keep this as simple as possible, don’t wanna have to account for money, let alone be accountable for it.”

Freedom of speech being what it is, she still disagreed with me. But RHIP being what it is, I smiled, nodded my head, and refused to budge.

Then I needed to find someone to wave the starting and finishing flag. Since I was already in the ADE building I figured I’d ask the editor, Elizabeth Izzo, a real take-charge kinda gal, if ever there was one. As I’d expected, she jumped at the opportunity. Now if anyone has a flag they’d like to lend me, I’ll be undyingly grateful.

My next chore was to get help with ride day registration. The best one would be someone who already had a staff of helpers on call. Finding such a person was a long shot, but serendipitously I did. At the last art walk I ran into Kathy Dyer Nogales and her hubby Rocky. If you didn’t know, Kathy and her mom double-handedly rescued, renewed and rejuvenated the too-long-dead Willard Hanmer Guideboat and Canoe Race. As soon as I told Kathy and Rocky about TBBW, they both thought it was a perfect Winter Carnival addition. Kathy then offered to have her organization, The Green Side of the Big Apple, be a sponsor. And even better, she said she and her crew will take care of registration. Almost immediately my production of stomach acids went on the decline.

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They walk the talk

–

After that, my last job was to scrounge the money, for which I targeted local independent businesses. And guess what? That was the easiest part of all. Ya know why? Well, it wasn’t because of my slick hustle, which began, “I’ve got an offer you can refuse.” Uh-uh. It’s because those folks are the backbone of the community. They don’t love Saranac Lake in the abstract — they walk the talk when it comes to supporting local activities. And just between you and me, I think, being 100% locals, they have a soft spot in their hearts — and wallets — for Carnival mishegas.

Before I had a chance to showcase my skills as a silver-tongued devil, they’d all agreed to be sponsors — just like that.

The sponsors are (so far, at least) … Ampersound, Bitters and Bones, ADK CAVU Cafe, Evergreen Auto, Grizle T’s, The Green Side of the Big Apple, Hyde’s Fuel, Human Powered Planet Earth, Nori’s Health Foods, and last but certainly not least, Woods and Waters.

Because I’m only one beneficiary of their largesse, I hope everyone patronizes their businesses.

And when you do, be sure to tell ’em the Dope sent you.