Communion Of Dreams


“Whatcha gonna to do with the bat, Jamie?”
July 4, 2020, 2:48 pm
Filed under: Humor | Tags: , , , , ,

There’s an apocryphal story told in my family which has amused my friends for years, but which I haven’t bothered to ever write up. Today seems like a good day to correct that, since it happened on a July 4th almost 60 years ago …

It seems that my family was gathered at the home of my maternal grandmother for a 4th of July party, sometime in the early ’60s (I don’t actually remember this particular event, since I think I was just five or six years old, though I trust that it’s true). Now, the 4th of July was a big weekend for such celebrations back then, and we’d regularly get together for barbecue, beer, and fireworks. Watch some baseball. Play games. And have a birthday party for me. See, I was born on the Fourth.

Anyway, we’d been playing baseball out in the yard, some of my cousins and me. Or, more likely, since I was one of the younger kids in the extended family, I was probably watching my cousins play. And the time came for dinner, so everyone hustled inside, to sit around on various chairs in the big living room and watch some pro sports on a little black & white TV while balancing paper plates of seared meat, baked beans, and salad dressing on their laps.

Now, I’ve never really enjoyed watching sports. Just not my thing. And evidently this was the case when I was really young, too. Because I had finished my dinner, and bored with everyone else just sitting around, had wandered back outside.

Where I found one of the baseball bats we’d been playing with earlier. I picked it up, swung it around, then plopped it on my shoulder and went back inside. Because an idea had struck me.

As I said, I don’t actually remember this, because I was so young. But I imagine that I had been watching some slapstick TV earlier — probably the 3 Stooges or something — and I thought that it would be fun to emulate that.

So I walked over to where my dad was sitting, eating his dinner, watching the game. My dad was a tough, burly, Irish cop who was beloved by many but evidently someone not to be messed with. And I stopped and stood there next to his chair, just looking at him. Finally, he noticed me, looked away from the television, leaned forward and asked “Whatcha gonna do with the bat, Jamie?”

I smiled a little smile, and smacked him upside the head with it.

I have NO idea why I thought this was a good idea. Probably, like I said, because of something I saw the 3 Stooges do, or in a cartoon, or something. But evidently I thought it would be funny.

I knocked my dad cold. Boom, right out. Unconscious. Probably a concussion, though we didn’t worry about such things as much back then.

Before he could wake up, the story is that my mom hustled me off to hide me with friends or other family members for a few days, so my dad wouldn’t kill me when he came to.

Well, it blew over and became something of a standing joke in the family, and later among my friends.

But everybody knew not to ask me damned fool questions like that.

 

Jim Downey

(For other “Jim Downey” stories, I refer you to my old archive site.)