The Oscars

We had the world’s most ideal cooler. It was a Coleman Oscar, and it was the very manifestation of Cooler Perfection. Oscars have little round calendars on their bottoms, declaring when they were made, and our cooler was brought forth into this world in something like 1982. It was Mistah Schlecka’s cooler when we met, but I adopted it as my own.

Besides being the, well, the perfect beach cooler, we’d bring it on vacation with us when we had real jobs and flew places. We took it to St. John – where my sister Julie lived – many times. Groceries could be exorbitantly priced there, so we’d pack the Oscar up with freezer packs and frozen steaks and chicken, wrap the whole thing up in packing tape, check it as luggage, and put the still frozen stuff in the freezer when we arrived.

In 2001 we quit our jobs and took off in our Westy, and Oscar was our faithful companion.

But then in 2005, while visiting us in our Westy in the Florida Keys, our so-called friend Matt dropped poor ol’ Oscar and the handle broke off.

It was sad, but not tragic. We just filled him up with beer and ice and carried him, under one arm, to the beach. Well, Mistah did. He’s got wonderful grace and coordination and can easily jump on his bike with a cooler full of beer under his arm.

Me? Not so much.

After a year or so of good life and devoted service as a no-handled cooler, we realized that the bottom of the Oscar had cracked, and was leaking. I’m as sentimental as the next guy – and I love this cooler – but a cooler that leaks is no longer a cooler, but a plant holder.

No worries. We’ll put him to rest and get ourselves another Oscar.

We went to Target. We went to Benny’s in New London. We went to the dreaded Wals-Market. And the realization finally dawned on us: they don’t make Coleman Oscars anymore.

But hey, it’s 2006. Why was ebay invented except to help people like us get exactly what we need to restore our happiness?

We found Coleman Oscars on ebay, all right. The cheapest one was going for something like $35. Plus $14 for shipping. Suddenly we’re talking about a $50 cooler. Which is over 20 years old.

Despondent, we realized we were going to have to – gulp – buy a Playmate.

We told our friend Mark – who is actually a Playmate man himself, poor misguided soul – our tale of woe and he said, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Bob’s got an Oscar in his basement he never uses. He said you could have it.”

Oh Joy! Rapture!

We went to Milford for the hand-off.

(And while we couldn’t actually saint our friend Bobby, we could at least give him a 12-pack of Harpoon).

And now, with our new Oscar (born 9/1983), our lives seemed complete.

That is, until 2 years later. We drove to Alpine from Fort Davis, Texas, a couple months ago, for a typical Alpine day of errands (including rewarding ourselves on their successful completion with pints of Shiner Bock at Harry’s Tenaja, but that’s another story for another day.)

Our first stop in Alpine was always the thrift store right when you get into town. It’s a pretty good thrift store: it enabled us to successfully stock our cabinet with a motley collection of wine glasses over the course of our 4 months in Fort Davis.

I walked into the Big Bend Thrift Store and saw it:

And for $2.50, I grabbed it. A perfect Oscar set! Mistah doesn’t think I should actually call the little guy (a young ‘un, born 12/1996) an Oscar because the cooler doesn’t say Oscar, just Coleman. But you know what? He can just try to stop me.

Our lives were now fully complete. I mean, we’ve just about attained Nirvana at this point. A perfect replacement Oscar, plus this little six-pack (i.e. short stay at the beach) version? What could possibly be better?

What could be better is Bill went to his Mumsie’s neighbor’s pre-yard-sale sale last week. And guess what he saw?

For the combined total price of $3.

The Oscar was born in 9/1983 (same as his twin, from Bobby). The Lil’ Oscar in 5/1982. Pretty great, you’ve got to admit, for 25- and 26-year-olds.

Leo Tolstoy famously wrote, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

And this, my friends, is a Happy Coleman Family:

Who wants a beer?