What Do You Do?
Had breakfast with Matt, his girlfriend, my beautiful wife and my in-laws.
I have a special relationship with my father-in-law because we both love baseball and we are both rabid fans of our teams.
“How’d the Yankees do last night?” He asked on Sunday morning. “Trout beat the hell out of them.”
I knew it was coming.
“How can you even open your mouth?” I asked. “The Indians suck!”
And we went from there.
We talked about homers and starting pitchers and Andrew Miller on the disabled list.
We held our conversation over the top of everyone else’s heads and to the aggravation of them all.
Yet, somehow, the conversation shifted from baseball to work around the house. Who was mowing what, who was capable of changing brakes on the car, or even changing the oil in the car.
Matt was on the hot seat as he got reprimanded for not rotating the tires on his car.
I wasn’t saying much.
I never was truly handy, and now that my legs suck, I do even less. In fact, I’m always looking for someone to do the chores.
I should have known that just being quiet wouldn’t take me out of the conversation.
There was a lull in the discussion and my father-in-law leaned across the table:
“So what is it you do now, besides eat?” He asked.
The table roared.
“What?” I asked.
I didn’t need him to repeat it, but he did.
And we all laughed again.
It was a simple breakfast, filled with back and forth teasing, and I thought of the mornings when Dad and I talked baseball.
I did a lot of work around the yard as I grew up, but my Dad also realized that I didn’t have a lot of interest in cars, or tools or building things.
But we always had baseball.
We were both Yankees fans, of course, but the teasing went back and forth. I’d mention Mattingly and he’d counter with Mantle.
We agreed on Billy Martin and Derek Jeter.
Yet, when my father-in-law teased me I remember my Mom and Dad talking about his spending more time with me, as he did with my brothers who enjoyed the outside mechanical garbage.
“He’s always reading,” Dad said.
So, that’s what I said to my father-in-law.
“What do I do besides eat?” I asked.
“I read.”
“Ah, that’s good. Go Indians!”
“They suck.”
“Get outta’ here!” He said.
It was just like old times.
I have a special relationship with my father-in-law because we both love baseball and we are both rabid fans of our teams.
“How’d the Yankees do last night?” He asked on Sunday morning. “Trout beat the hell out of them.”
I knew it was coming.
“How can you even open your mouth?” I asked. “The Indians suck!”
And we went from there.
We talked about homers and starting pitchers and Andrew Miller on the disabled list.
We held our conversation over the top of everyone else’s heads and to the aggravation of them all.
Yet, somehow, the conversation shifted from baseball to work around the house. Who was mowing what, who was capable of changing brakes on the car, or even changing the oil in the car.
Matt was on the hot seat as he got reprimanded for not rotating the tires on his car.
I wasn’t saying much.
I never was truly handy, and now that my legs suck, I do even less. In fact, I’m always looking for someone to do the chores.
I should have known that just being quiet wouldn’t take me out of the conversation.
There was a lull in the discussion and my father-in-law leaned across the table:
“So what is it you do now, besides eat?” He asked.
The table roared.
“What?” I asked.
I didn’t need him to repeat it, but he did.
And we all laughed again.
It was a simple breakfast, filled with back and forth teasing, and I thought of the mornings when Dad and I talked baseball.
I did a lot of work around the yard as I grew up, but my Dad also realized that I didn’t have a lot of interest in cars, or tools or building things.
But we always had baseball.
We were both Yankees fans, of course, but the teasing went back and forth. I’d mention Mattingly and he’d counter with Mantle.
We agreed on Billy Martin and Derek Jeter.
Yet, when my father-in-law teased me I remember my Mom and Dad talking about his spending more time with me, as he did with my brothers who enjoyed the outside mechanical garbage.
“He’s always reading,” Dad said.
So, that’s what I said to my father-in-law.
“What do I do besides eat?” I asked.
“I read.”
“Ah, that’s good. Go Indians!”
“They suck.”
“Get outta’ here!” He said.
It was just like old times.
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