Sammy, Tammy, and Me

Tammy finally said, "It's so quiet I can hear my heart beating. And it's slowing down. There are lots of things I could do but I don't want to move. I'm completely at peace. I don't think I ever felt like this before."

"Magical, isn't it?"

"You knew about this, didn't you? And you knew that I needed this. You gave me the gift of, what? Peace? Serenity? Right now I'm free to be what I want to be, feel what I want to feel. Free. Free. Free to love you. Free to be one with you. What a feeling!"

"Do you feel close to me?"

"Yes."

"And with nothing to distract you, are you conscious of my love for you?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to go on feeling like this for the rest of your life?"

"Yes."

"Will you be my wife, to spend our lives together, making each other happy?"

"Y - oh!" Pause. "Dick, what are you, do you mean, is this - oh, dear God - yes, of course!"

While Tammy was sputtering, I fished a small box out of my right pants pocket and opened it with only my right hand, a move I'd been practicing for several days. Still with only that hand, I extracted the ring, and as Tammy rolled toward me and brought her left hand up onto my chest, I took that hand in my left one and held it up, while my right hand slid the ring onto her finger. Her head was back on the pillow, and my left arm was blocking her view, so she couldn't see her hand while I did this. There was a gasp, and then she sort of choked, and said, "Oh, is that what I think it is? Oh Dick, I can't look."

I held her hand up so she could see it clearly, with only the plain ceiling as a background. "Of course you can look. Feast your eyes!" And only then did she get her first look at her very own engagement ring, with its 1.5 carat diamond sparkling in the beams of sunlight that shone through the window.

That pretty well shot the idyllic inertia we'd been enjoying. I reached over and picked up the house phone, and punched number 6 with my thumb. When I heard a voice on the other end, I said, "Bring it now," and hung up. About two minutes passed before the door was quietly opened, and a waiter wheeled in a little cart with a magnum of champagne nestled in a bucket of ice. With my able right hand I pulled out the only other thing that had been in that pants pocket, a twenty dollar bill, which I handed to the waiter. He quickly put it in his pants pocket, muttered his thanks for the tip, and retreated to leave us alone once again.

Tammy, meanwhile, was beside herself. And of course, she was also beside me. This was the first time that I had ever seen Tammy totally flummoxed. She wanted to look at her ring but she wanted to kiss me, and she had her cell phone in her hand but couldn't decide whether to make a phone call or take a picture or set the phone down and forget about it. I figured I'd better help out, so I sat up and grabbed her phone. I posed her with her left hand held up in front of her face and took a picture. Then I went to her list of people and punched Sam. I sent the picture to Sam. Then I tossed the phone aside and pulled Tammy up to me for some serious kissing. Halfway through I thought I was being strangled, as she wrapped her left arm around my neck and looked past my left ear, where she could see the ring if she held hand out straight. It's a good thing I'm a man, because being a woman seems so complicated that I'm not sure I could manage it.

It was also a good thing we had a solid breakfast at the diner by our house, back before the sun was up. All that champagne on an empty stomach would probably be hard to handle. As it was, we had a pretty good rosy glow by the time I drained the last drops from that big bottle. One thing led to another, as you might expect. Let's face it, if you can't get laid after a magnum of champagne on top of a carat and a half of blue-white perfect diamond, you're doomed to die a virgin.

We dozed on the bed, snuggled together comfortably, and then decided in mid afternoon that we ought to get some food, if we could do so without driving. I got back onto the phone to find out if they could put together a lunch for us at a time when the dining room would normally be closed, and the answer was yes, if they could all see the ring. So away we went, walking along the board walkways to the restaurant door, where we almost collapsed laughing at how funny it was to hold a door open and walk into a building. The hilarity might have had something to do with putting away enough bubbly for a party of eight.

The chef came out of the kitchen and waved us to a table that was set for two. Tammy's speech was slightly slurred as she waved her hand and said, "Bring 'em all out to see it." And he did. We had waitstaff, cooks, dishwashers, the guy who washed the windows, the clerk from the front desk, everybody who worked in the place looking at the ring. I looked up and saw that they had put us at a table that was right below a recessed light in the ceiling, so that the ring was bathed in light, sparkling bright enough to make you squint.

It was Tammy's moment of glory, for the many qualities that made her worthy of such a gift. And it was mine as well, for my good taste in jewelry and women.

We had a good lunch. I don't remember what we ate, probably didn't even notice, but it went down well, and I got some fresh brewed coffee to try to stiffen our bodies up for the walk back to our room. As we were leaving, the lady who ran the dining room called out, "Albert, walk back with them to make sure they get to their room all right." Albert, with my twenty in his pocket from the morning, was only too happy to comply.

Back in the room, I fired off a brief text message to my two kids, to tell them that I had become engaged. That's all that I had to do, and it took less than five minutes. But Tammy had about a dozen calls to make. She settled on the picture of the ring plus a brief standardized text message that she fussed over to make sure every word was just right. I suppose every one of her friends expected to be the first one to hear the news, and Tammy was very good at handling everybody's feelings carefully. When that was finished, as if we had scripted it we took off all of our clothes without a word being spoken. Then we returned to the scene of our triumph, the wonderful king size bed, to hold each other gently, tenderly, lovingly.

When I woke it was dark out. The slight headache I felt was little enough penalty for our day of wild, reckless celebrating. Tammy slept on, apparently free from all cares now that she had the confirmation of our love on her finger. I slipped on some clothes and scribbled a note to tell her I had gone to get us some food. As I closed the door quietly behind me I checked my watch. It was 10:45 pm.

The friendly neighborhood Burger King kept its drive through window open late, and the sleepy attendant rather unenthusiastically sold me two whoppers, with fries and drinks. Back in the hotel room I found Tammy stirring and happy to see me. Engagement gave her an appetite, it seemed, and she wolfed down my offering with gusto.

The next day we rented two gentle horses and went for a ride along the trail that was neatly marked with small signs, and clearly but less neatly with road apples. We breathed fresh, pine scented air, and let the horses find our way along the trail while we mostly looked at each other. There's something magical about being in love, some special pigment that the mind's eye splashes all over the ordinary environment to make it seem brand new, specially made for lovers to see. But this was super special. I'd been engaged before, and it didn't feel like this. It made me think of a line from that old song, "The Second Time Around," that said perhaps youth is wasted on the young. Maybe I was influenced by my determination to do it right this time. Or did I realize that I was unlikely to have another chance, that I was entering my last rodeo? Whatever the reason, I guided my horse over closer to Tammy's and reached out my hand. She took it, briefly, with a little squeeze that let me know she was reading from the same page that I was.

Sitting in the shade of a big tree, with the horses tethered nearby, we cuddled together as we had so many times before. But something was different. We weren't clutching at each other, we were gently enjoying the touch of each other's bodies but not hanging on for dear life. I said softly, almost in her ear, "Our bodies are telling us something. They're saying that we feel secure in each other's love, that we have faith in each other. I have one of the most beautiful girls in the world, but I don't feel that I need to handcuff you to a tree to keep you from flying away. If anybody asked me right now to sum you up with a single adjective, I wouldn't even say 'Beautiful.' I'd say 'Wonderful,' or 'Perfect,' or maybe I'd ask for one extra word so I could say, 'Just right.' Then you'd blush a little and say, 'Oh go on' but what you'd be thinking is 'Glad you noticed.' The fact is that your whole self is as awesome as your appearance. Your beauty isn't just on the surface, it goes all the way through you. I bet you have a beautiful spleen. And a gorgeous appendix. Your pancreas could probably win awards. And your heart, well I don't want any judges looking at that. I know it's beautiful, so everybody else can leave it alone."

"That's one of the things I love about you, Dick. You never let it get too heavy. There's always a little joke lurking in some back corner of your mind. Your sense of humor is a great resource. It has been for you, and it will be for us. But what are you going to think when I start looking like an old lady? When my boobs sag down to my kneecaps, and I get all wrinkly and my knees give out and my hands get all ropy with veins and my fingers get knobby? And suppose I get fat, with a saggy belly, and a butt so big that I can't fit in a regular chair?"

"You'll never get like that, at least to me. Remember that I see you with my eyes, and my eyes are special. They look right through you, so I can see you as you really are, not just as you appear to others. I'm not some dumb kid, who'd panic at the sight of crow's feet or smile lines or even a frown line. I love you because you're just right for me, and because aside from being beautiful you're also smart and warm and kind and generous and caring and genuine. When God made women, he gave men the ability to appreciate them. But he made all sorts of women and all sorts of men. Only a real man can truly appreciate a real woman. And you are a real woman, through and through!"

On Monday morning we had a big breakfast and then said farewell to the lodge and all the friends we'd made there. I drove around the area so Tammy could see what it looked like. We stopped at the property that I thought had potential, and toured the nearest commercial area to see what it had to offer. Then we looked at some neighborhoods to see what kinds of vacation homes people had built there. When she was satisfied that she knew what the piney woods were about, we hit the trail and headed down from the mountains.

Back in the Great Southwestern Desert once more, Tammy gave Sam a call. She met us at a restaurant not far from our house, where Dave joined us a few minutes later. We toasted our engagement and Tammy gave practically a minute by minute account of our engagement. Sam looked up at Dave and said, "Oh, Honey, that sounds like a place we ought to go to, doesn't it?"

Dave returned her look with kind of a blank stare, and then glanced across the table at me. His face revealed all sorts of thoughts racing through his mind, all centered on the association of the lodge and expensive jewelry and a lifetime commitment. "What are you getting me into here, Dick?" he asked.

"It's a nice place to go for all sorts of activities," I answered. "People go there to fish and hunt, and just to enjoy the clean, fresh air." His face relaxed a bit, and he even smiled. Until I added, "They even do weddings and receptions there, from what they told me."

My mind was telling me, "No matter what he thinks, Dave got himself onto this hook. It's not up to me to ease him off it."

* * * * * *

Softball season loomed ever closer, and we got more details from the league. I'd been wondering about uniforms, and I learned that each team had been assigned two colors when they signed up. The uniforms were to be T shirts and mid-length shorts. The players would buy their own shorts but the team's sponsor would furnish the T shirts. The sponsor would also pay for team equipment - bats, balls, catcher's gear, batting helmets, and caps. In return for his generosity, the sponsor would get his name above the team name on the front of each shirt. The player's number and name would be on the back. The names were to be first names or nicknames. Sam and Tammy went to the owner of their insurance agency, Grover Haley, and asked if he'd like to sponsor the team. Grover was very willing to support the girls in their activity, and he was also excited by the thought of cheap advertising. He grabbed his pen and wrote a check for $500 right away, with the promise of more as needed. The front of the shirts would have "Haley's Insurance" in two lines, and "Comets" below that in a different style. And so Haley's Comets came into being, with team colors of cream and maroon.

When he was told that the players' names would be on the back, Grover asked Sam if she would go by Sammy, so that Sammy and Tammy could become a catchphrase, to help him spread the word that they were "his" girls. None of us understood just how that would play out, but Sam had no problem with reverting to the name that she'd gone by from birth through high school.

Each player had to have a number, and the players were left to choose their own. Any number from 1 through 99 was allowed, and with only16 players on the team, that gave everybody a lot of leeway. Grover asked about the numbers, and the girls said they had no particular favorites. Grover asked them to hold off till he could think about it. Later that day he asked them to come into his office. "I'd like to extend the image of you two as my employees by your numbers. I thought about 6 and 9, or even 66 and 99, but the sexual connotations could expose you to ridicule and that wouldn't be right. Combinations of two numbers might work, like 89 and 98, but I think those numbers are too high. What about 45 and 54?"

Tammy responded with, "I prefer 44 and 55. Sam is shorter than I am, and alphabetically her name comes before mine. So she could be 44 and I'd be 55. If we're bent over or twisting around and only one number is showing, people could still tell who it is. How's that suit you, Sam?"

"Sounds good to me. Do you like it, Mr. Haley?"

"I think it's great!"

* * * * * *

All of the players on the tentative team roster got together at our house the next night, to make final decisions on their numbers and any other issues that were still open. We had asked them to bring lawn chairs, and we met in the back yard by the light of bug lamps on the house and citronella candles scattered all around. I had coolers with canned beer and soda, and bowls of chips here and there. Todd had also invited the league manager, Harry Simpson, to come and sit in.

Todd opened up with an announcement that we hadn't been expecting. "Sarah and I aren't going to play. I know that only a few of you know this, but I played baseball in high school and college, and then spent two seasons with the pros, on a double-A farm club. Sarah went to a state teachers' college, majoring in phys ed, and she taught in a big high school and coached girls' sports, including softball. We think our experience might make it seem that we're stacking the deck in a recreational league, so we won't play but we'll be happy to coach so that less experienced players can get a better feel of the game and enjoy it more. So we've got a team of men and women, and coaches for men and women. Are you all happy with that, or do we need to re-think it?"

Everybody voiced approval, and we moved on. Todd said, "Now before we get into team details, I'd like you all to hear what Harry has to say about the league."

Harry thanked everybody for their participation, and asked that we pass on to Grover Haley his thanks for being the first sponsor to sign up. "We have twelve teams registered so far. What I expect is that we'll get maybe three or four more, and then a few will drop out between now and opening day. Typical problems will be not filling the roster and not finding a sponsor. Some people will disagree with some of the league rules. For instance, in a league of people who haven't played a lot of ball, it's too dangerous to allow cleats or spikes. Too many knee and ankle injuries, and the possibility of leg injuries from being spiked. So footwear will be sneakers. We'll have a list of suggested brands and models, but any tennis or basketball type shoes will be allowed. There may be a few would-be hall of famers out there who won't like that rule, and they might pull out and move to a league of more advanced players.

"Say we open with a dozen teams. We'll play two games a night at three ballparks, every Friday night. If we have more teams we'll use one more ballpark, but it'll still be one game a week for each team, on Friday night. For recreational ball, nobody wants to play to midnight, and most of our players will have already put in a full day of work. So we'll limit each game to six innings or two hours, whichever comes first. We'll try to schedule you so that if you have a late game this week, you'll play early next week.

"In recreational softball there are so many optional rules that we could go crazy deciding how we'll play the game. A couple of examples: A line across the third base line, on the way from third base to home plate, called the 'deadline' that's your point of no return. Beyond that, you keep going to home and take your chances with the catcher. It's to prevent knee and ankle injuries from suddenly turning around while you're running. I think it's a good idea. Another rule is that if the batted ball touches any part of the pitcher, the batter is out. I don't like that one. It seems stupid to me for adults. We'll have a Saturday afternoon meeting with two or more representatives from each team to iron out our rules, and then we'll print them up in a little pamphlet for every player. I'd like at least one man and one woman from each team to be involved, but if the whole team wants to attend, that's even better. Each rule will be voted on, and each team that's represented will get one vote for each representative, up to a maximum of five votes. In other words, the people who show the most interest will be awarded the most votes, but the limit of five prevents any one team from railroading a rule in against every other team's wishes.

"We need a statistician for each team. Also a scorekeeper. They'll work together to record who does what. Then we need a statistician for the league, to compile the information from the teams. If you know of anybody who could handle that for the league, please let me know.

"Every team will put ten players on the field, five men and five women. Men and women will bat alternately. The exception is that if injuries prevent putting the required number of each on the field after three innings, then the teams will decide how to handle the problem so that no team has an unfair advantage. For example, if your team can only put six men and four women on the field in the fifth inning, the other team will have the option of doing the same. If that cannot be done, or if the other team doesn't agree to do it, then the game is called and the score at the end of the last inning is final.

"Ties will be allowed. We'll discuss various forms of mercy rules. Some people like them, some don't. In a game with a two hour limit it may be wise to limit the number of runs in an inning, so that's another thing to discuss.