It was quite a Sunday.
A grand Easter brunch.
The Tiger game.
The Redwings vs. Bruins.
What they say about good things (or bad things) coming “in threes” seemed to be true.
And this was a tremendous trio in my book. Nothing could be better.
It was also fantastic to be with a big group of family members (27) on Sunday afternoon… especially with my three daughters all present and accounted for as well.
Actually, I didn’t have to do any of the “presenting and accounting for.” Their boyfriends took care of that.
So I was more than a little disappointed later when my fatherly attempt to get my middle daughter, Amy, interested in the Tiger game totally flopped.
“C’mon, Amos,” I coaxed, “I thought you liked baseball. You went to Wrigley Field to see the Cubs three times last summer.”
“Going to Wrigley Field with your friends has nothing to do with baseball,” she said. “Besides, I’ve never been able to figure out the rules.”
“For baseball?” I wondered. “What could be easier? You know how many innings there are in a game, right?”
“Four?” she answered after giving it some thought. (And I’m not kidding about her answer… boy, do I wish I was!)
I scoffed, and tried to turn this situation into an opportunity to bond with Amy’s boyfriend, Ken.
“How ’bout that, Ken,” I chortled, “Amy doesn’t know how many innings are in a baseball game.”
‘I’m not sure I do, either,” he replied. (And I’m not kidding about his answer… boy, do I wish I was!)
I didn’t know what to say at this point… or even whom to try and bond with now, as my wife’s body language made it clear I was going to have to work through all of this on my own.
I’ll confess. I was silently unnerved a bit.
Who doesn’t know how many innings are in a baseball game?
So I diplomatically started to swivel my attention over to my other two daughters’ boyfriends with the sole intent of grilling them with some sports trivia questions just to see if I could lessen my growing sense of panic.
Then Amy made an announcement.
“Hey, everyone,” she said. “Ken proposed to me last night after church and I said “yes”… and he gave me this beautiful diamond ring that was last worn by his maternal grandmother.”
All of my interest in sports and other selfish notions suddenly popped like a balloon.
I watched Amy and Ken go to Cindy, her sisters, and all of the other relatives gathered for the brunch.
I’ve NEVER seen Amy so happy and confident about what the future holds. (Even on that Christmas morning 20 years ago when Santa brought her her dream Playmobil playhouse.)
Whatever ridiculous plans I had for having the time to develop “mutual interests” and “learn what this boy is all about” were swept away.
Amy loves Ken.
He loves her.
She’s happier than ever.
That’s all I needed to see and know.
Hmmm. Good things often DO come in sets of three.
I guess the trick is making sure you’re open to re-working a goofy previously determined “threesome” when better ones come your way.
As Amy and Ken were flitting about the room, Cindy knew I needed “a friend” and came over and sat by my side.
“I might have missed it earlier,” she whispered. “But did you ever find out many innings are in a baseball game?”
“Four,” I said.
“I’m impressed,” she said. “You got the answer right.”