Patsy Lou was a brown eyed , walking, talking doll, but she was a better second baseman. It was a collision over second base that got the ball rolling.
Even when you're eleven - or especially when you're eleven - you look for common ground before investing a lot of time in a relationship. Our interests were common and the ground, the playground and softball diamond at Sowers Elementary.
It only happened because Melvin Joe came down with the chickenpox. We were already short in the outfield, but it didn't matter since no one but MJ could hit the ball out there anyway. If I may say so, with him at first and me at second we had a pretty good one-two punch. But Patsy Lou wandered up, glove in hand, and said she was the best second baseman in school or something to that effect.
Of course, our collision at second base was just a manner of speaking. I took umbrage to her attitude, the kind usually reserved for boys. Everybody knew, especially me, that I was better. Just to prove a point I moved over to first base. Big mistake. Turns out she was THAT good.
You could call our relationship rocky and you'd be right. I got plenty of those tingly feelings around her, but wasn't sure if I wanted to hold her hand or beat her in the next race ... or kicking contest ... or something. Fact was I seldom did.
We managed to hold our romance together for a few weeks. The end came in dramatic fashion.
The big event for Valentine's Day -- aside from exchanging valentines -- was a school fundraiser called a "box supper", for obvious reasons. For you young whippersnappers who think this was take-out from KFC, it wasn't, though it could have been a harbinger of things to come. Ladies of all ages prepared a meal then decorated a shoe-box or similar and placed the supper inside. It was then auctioned to the highest bidder. The maker of the supper was held secret, though subtle hints were bantered about, adding to the fun but also the stress. Male bidders sought to buy his favorite girl's supper and with it, the pleasure of her company.
Patsy Lou gave me all the hints that I needed. The ribbon in her hair matched the neatly wrapped shoe box sitting near the middle of the table. Plus she told her best friend, who told her best friend, who ... I wasn't concerned; just bring all my liquid assets, two dollars, and bid when the time came. Seldom did a kid's meal go for more than a dollar and I had twice that much.
The auctioneer picked up the pretty box, held it high, and started, "How much am I ..." when I anxiously blurted, "fifty cents." Patsy Lou was across the room waiting patiently. Some were already eating. I readied myself to pick up the box when a voice in back, barked "Seventy-five."
"It couldn't be", I mumbled to myself, "Everyone knew she was my girl." I turned slowly to see the voice. Robert "The Fink" was grinning ear to ear.
I gritted my teeth and yelled "One Dollar".
"One fifty" came the voice again.
I fumbled in my pocket for money and grasped it all.
"Two dollars," I barely squeezed out of my mouth.
After the longest few seconds of my young life, the voice rose from the back one last time and I slumped in a heap to the bottom of my chair. I had no idea what was bid or what happened after that.
"The Fink" would be eating biscuits, fried chicken and cookies made by Patsy Lou especially for me. Worse still, he'd be sitting close and sharing it with her.
Things didn't go real well with Patsy Lou after that. I remember getting socked in the nose, but she said it was an accident.
Of course, this happened a long time ago but it provided some important lessons in life.
. . . Should a small blonde with an athletic swagger wander up and suggest she could kick your butt, believe her.
. . . It's a good thing to "rat hole" a few bucks for emergencies.
. . . Never underestimate your competition.
And finally ... if you're out trying to impress your sweetie on Valentine's Day or on any other important occasion, get yourself an credit card and don't leave home without it.
John Brazell
After Thoughts: Patsy Lou became an outstanding high school basketball player and coach. I saw her at a recent high school reunion and she didn't remember the box-supper event. But neither did she sock me in the nose.
|
