Baseball, Motherhood, Apple Pie

We understand that those three facets of archetypal Americana (for in forn parts, of course, they play soccer, eat fancy tarts, and are created in labs) came together in J.'s parents' living room last night. Her mother and the next-door neighbor (who is someone else's mother, with two children but no television reception) decided to spend the evening watching the decisive Sox-Yankees game and peeling some of those apples for the purpose of pie-manufacture. Since this convergence of archetypes was coincidental -- the game was there for the watching, the numerous apples require eating, and the mother-ness of these two women was incidental to the proceedings (except to the extent that one of them chose to e-mail her daughter about them) -- one may perhaps conclude that those who believe these three things are somehow quintessentially American might be on to something.

As for me, I'll never be a mother (barring an operation and an adoption), I prefer apple crisp or one of them fancy tarts (but I don't refuse the pie when presented), and I don't watch baseball. Except for when I do.

( Sox fans, naked men watching 'Frasier', strangers on a train, Irish pub with stadium sound effects. )