Beach Patrol

Palm Sunday weekend. The sun is strong; there's a party on the beach. It's unusually crowded.

Even as the late afternoon exodus commences, the proximity of my stake in the sand remains uncomfortably close to a pair of chatty middle age ladies. They are discussing their relationships; I cannot help but overhear. My book remains open; the pages remain unturned.

Betty, divorced, is dating a kind and considerate widow. Unfortunately, she sees no future with Barney; he's too set in his ways.

Wilma is enthralled by many attributes of her beau,, Fred, but she has some concerns. He is short and dumpy.

I take umbrage at this description, and, in my head, quickly review my duties and responsibilites as Self Appointed Temporary Beach Patrol Monitor. I conclude that it is appropriate for me to come to the defense of the maligned absent Fred.

I rise up to my full and formidable height of just under five and one half feet, and approach my neighbors.

"I couldn't help but overhear," I explain, "Fred sounds like a nice guy. So what if he's short."

Wilma was taken aback, but quickly recovers and defends her position.

"You don't understand," she says, "he's really short. He's only four foot two."

Now it is my turn to be taken aback. "Oh my, that is short, but short people need love too," I weakly argue.

"He weighs 312 pounds," exclaims Wilma, almost triumphantly.

I am losing enthusiasm for my point of view, but I persevere, reiterating that short, fat people usually have great personalities.

"I think he killed my dog," she replies.

"You think, but you don't know for sure," I say. "Sounds like conjecture."

"He's a Yankee fan," Wilma shrieks!

Stunned, I counted to 10, then tempered and edited my response. (Unedited, my response would have been "crucify him!" After all, it was Palm Sunday weekend.)

Aw heck, I didn't count to 10, I didn't temper my remarks. Short, fat, dog killing Yankee fans don't deserve to walk the face of the earth.

I encouraged Wilma to change her locks and phone number, and apply for the Witness Protection Program.

Opening Day; hope springs eternal. Now batting, Pablo Sandoval, switch hitting rookie third baseman, who also plays first base and catcher. Remember the name!

GO GIANTS! IT'S MY TURN, BABY!!!