Betty Sharp, OWP 1998

 

Betty Sharp

Oregon Writing Project

University of Oregon

Assignment # 2,

They really don't like each other. One, my mother, is hyper, talks all the time, doesn't think before she speaks, and is always pissing someone off. The other, my brother's mother-in-law Patience, is older than my mom by ten years, wears lipstick and makeup, her puffy white hair always impeccably coiffed. She's polite and proper, something Mom has never really bought into. At seventy-five and eighty-five years old, we children and our spouses are beginning to take what they say with a grain of salt. We've had a lot of practice doing that with Mom because she tends to say the same things over and over again. It must be nice to enjoy telling the same story every time as if it were the first. These two women have fostered a strong bond between myself and my sister-in-law. We've spent hours trying to figure them out, comparing the weird things that each of them did to us during our teen years, and trying to figure out what the next challenges will be. Both are widows, with little hope that either will ever change in that regard.

It is on Saturday that I, my brother, and my sister-in-law venture into unknown geriatric territory to take the two grandmas to watch my daughter's softball game at a tournament in their town. It starts out badly. The schedule was based on whether teams won or lost, so the game that I thought would take place at 11:30 changed to 3:00. Fortunately, I called my brother before he left the house with the two grandmas, so I was able to pre-empt them actually arriving at the field with no game.

But there are other obstacles to overcome... My mom is already at his house, so I volunteer to come over and get her, probably to take her to lunch and meet them at the field. I arrive at my brother's house and when my mom finds out that the next game is at 3:00, she starts to balk. "Well, I don't know, maybe I should just go home, it might be too much for me. You know, Betty, you're the one involved here and I don't want to butt in on your stuff. It's only 11:30, what are we going to do for all that time?" I encourage her to do what she wants, but that she might just have fun and enjoy the game. She has never watched her grandaughter play before. She thinks it over and decides that she'll go for it, live dangerously, and stay. So, she and I go to lunch, do a bit of window shopping to kill time, and end up at the sports complex about an hour before the game, in time to watch the team warm up.

On the other end of town, my brother and his wife take care of her mother and all arrive on schedule prior to the three o'clock game. I hope I've thought of everything that they might need: two umbrellas for the sun, two chairs, a pocket full of money for drinks and food at the concession stand where everything costs an arm and a leg, a cell phone in my pocket in case they want to call someone, and I've scoped out the restrooms in case they have to go pee. As the day unfolds, they will need all of that and more. I allowed my mom to forget her sweater in my car. This is not unlike packing toddlers around.

Deciding where they want to sit is interesting. One prefers to sit in the shade, the other in the sun. The chairs get jockeyed about and sometimes they are together, sometimes apart. When one leaves the other, we children feel obligated to send a delegate over to sit with the singleton.

Finally, the game starts. Many issues arise. The two grandmas get thirsty, subsequently have to go to the bathroom, then one comes back complaining that there aren't any toilet seat liners in the restrooms and that she'll be fine simply "holding it" until we go. My sister-in-law and I question whether or not either of them have ever learned to "hover". By the way, how many innings do they play, anyway?

They squiggle and squirm, one more than the other, and then the squirmy one starts to ask questions, "Did I leave my jacket in your car? How many outs are there? What's the score?" At one point we children celebratoriously acknowledge that they have discovered the scoreboard.

Of course, the game goes into extra innings. Fortunately, however, not so many as the morning game, which went ten. We explain the process of the "international tie-breaker", which involves putting a player on second before the batter comes up, in order to speed up the game. This is done, and my daughter comes up to bat. She bunts, and manages to run around the bases, bringing in another runner at the same time. The two grandmas go crazy, not really understanding what has happened. However, they realized that their grandaughter had just done something wonderful and they called it a "home run".

Eventually, mercifully, the game ends and the two grandmas, exhausted by their wonderfully exciting and victorious day at the ballpark, get to go home. They are so tired that they don't even want to chit chat with my brother and his wife as they are dropped off at their respective car and home, something that they usually do quite well.

All in all, it's been a very good day, and maybe they even like each other a bit more than before.