One: On Tuesday evening I was playing tennis, men's night. One of the pros arranges the pairings and then you play a set. The first pairing was very uneven; we were quickly up 5-0. This was partly due to the fact that one of the two men on the other side of the net was over seventy. All's gliding towards a predictable conclusion when the old guy, from the far corner of his side, challenges a line call on our side. I explain politely that I had a good view of the ball since it landed by my feet and the rules say it is my duty to make the call. He's still complaining when the next point starts with a serve, which hits the back of the service box line. Thus the ball is good, and so I play it. "That ball was clearly out. You need your eyes examined..." On and on. I do the only thing that seems right at this point, thank my partner and abandon the set. Never done that before, but there's nothing at stake; this pairing clearly isn't working for some reason...so I think I'll move on. So then the old guy comes up, bumps chests and wants to start a fight. I don't know if you've ever been attacked by a septuagenarian, but to me the proper course of action was to get as far away as possible, for fear that he might be damaged somehow. This morning the pro called. This being America, when he asked after my health I understood this to be a question about my health and, of course, code for, "Are you about to sue the club"? I said that it had been a very strange event, but I'd put it behind me and enjoyed the rest of the evening. He said that this particular fellow has a history of "anger issues."
Two: Today's obit page has a long piece about the mother of one of my colleagues. I knew that she was a Polish Catholic, raised in the Crimea. The rest was new to me, "Ludmilla and her grandmother were taken prisoner by the German military as they were trying to escape to Odessa across the frozen Black Sea....[The grandmother did not survive a train trip to a slave labor camp in Germany. Ludmilla was arrested for sabotage and sent to Buchenwald. When the allies drew near, the Waffen SS were set to execute everyone]...By storming the main gate, a small number survived and escaped into the forest and rural farmland. Ludmilla broke her leg, but she continued to flee." She then walked to Belgium, where she met and married a U.S. army sergeant, my colleague's father.
Who knows? Maybe the first guy has a similar history? David Ritchie, Portland, Oregon ------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html
