Author: Deborah Guenther
Written: November 17th, 2011
I was the ‘little sister’. Even in our declining years I am still affectionately refered to as ‘Baby Sister’ or ‘Squirt’. Although I wasn’t a tag along, when I was underfoot my brothers and sister treated me with patience and kindness. I knew, even at the time, that we were close because I would never think about complaining about my siblings as did my friends. But not until adult years would I appreciate many of their acts in my defense.
One such moment occurred late on a summer’s evening. The days were long and the neighbor hood boys had gathered for a game of ‘Three – Flys – Up’. I was oblivious to the fact that they were only boys gathering or to the fact that I hadn’t been asked to play. It was an activity on an otherwise boring evening.
“Let her up first, she’ll get out and then we can play”, I heard my brother come to my defense amongst all the mumblings. So I was up to bat first. My excitement ran high. I got ready to swing the bat.
‘Strike One’ … No matter – I was ready to try again.
‘Strike Two’ … I knew I would soon be out so I concentrated real hard.
CRACK … I hit it! Yeah! I would get another turn! Everybody settled in patiently for me to strike out this time.
‘Strike One’ … The boys were getting excited again.
‘Strike Two’ … Soon their game could begin without the kid sister. But what’s this … oh no!…
CRACK … I was so excited! I couldn’t believe it as I stayed up at bat!
‘Strike One’ … “Come on get her out” someone yelled.
‘Strike Two’ … and then …
CRACK … Had I ever been so happy!
“Hay, get your sister out of here” someone yelled.
“Let her do it again, she can’t keep it up.” So the ball came sailing.
‘Strike One’ …
‘Strike Two’ … The boys got ready for me to strike out when …
CRACK they all groaned.
Soon my brother was by my side.
“I can’t believe it”, I said excitedly. “I strike out twice and I hit it the third time.”
“I know”, he replied “the guys don’t like it.” I was oblivious to what he was trying to say. “You better go.” He replied quietly.
“Why? I’m up! I hit the ball!”
“The guys are getting upset. Go on …”
I was heart sunken. Here I was in a winning streak and I couldn’t play the game out. Dejectedly, I walked home and sat quietly around the house. It wasn’t long and the games was over and my brother came in too.
Mom (Grandma Griep), rendered by Crystal Guenther
“I saw you playing ball did you like it?” Mom asked. Forgetting the disappointment I excitedly told about hitting every third ball and getting to stay at bat.
“Yeah. The boys were getting pretty upset.” my brother added. But I had seen the twinkle in his eye. A silent gesture that had let me know how proud he had been of me, erasing all disappointment of how the evening had ended.