Postaday for June 11th: I Am a Rock. Is it easy for you to ask for help when you need it, or do you prefer to rely only on yourself? Why?
I have talked to my therapist at length. No, I don’t like asking people for help. Let’s ask Dale.
Hey, Dale. Turn off the TV for a second.
Can’t. Crudites are up by two, top of the eighth.
Crudites?
That’s a baseball team you invented because you haven’t decided where I live yet.
I thought I made you a Mets fan.
Did you? I don’t remember that.
Well, nevermind. Let me ask you a question.
Go ahead. Damn it, Manless! You bum!
Is it easy for you to ask people for help?
Buck-o, I get on my knees every day and ask God to help Manless get cancer. Ace pitcher, my ass.
No, but seriously. Like, do you ever ask Loretta for help.
Uh, I don’t know, do I? Every time you write about me, she ain’t around.
Well, now’s your chance. Let’s do some character building. Tell me about a time you asked Loretta for help.
Damn it!
Dale.
Sorry. What do you want me to do?
Was there ever a time when you needed Loretta to help you with something, like, when you had to check your machismo at the door and ask her to get you through an ordeal?
You mean other than last week when Gonzales broke his ankle pinch hitting for Lopez?
Well, that’s not exactly—
—Cause let me tell you, I was nearly in tears.
Yeah, but, what about—
I’m sitting right here, in this chair, and even the play-by-play guys got his mouth shut for a change, the camera zoomed in on Gonzales while we wait for the skipper to trot on out there. And you could see it, in his eyes, him thinking he’s two years past retirement as it is, maybe he gets a place in Arizona, or Miami. And Loretta walks in, and she goes Dale, you’re awful quiet, and I look at her, she ain’t the gal she used to be, but she’s still a decent broad, and I’m just lookin’ at her, like I’m that damned manager, and this chair and my sunken chest and how my knees hurt when I get up in the morning and it takes longer to chew on a steak than it used to, and you can’t smile at people on the bus causer they’ll either mace ya or ask ya to sign some petition to save the baby seals from getting evicted, or whatever, and Loretta’s not the kinda dame you ask to do menial things, I mean, I’m the man of the house but I can get up to get my own beer, you know, but there I am, and there she is, and she’s closer to the ice box anyway, so maybe this one time I ask her and she can hear it in my voice how sad I am, and maybe we have a moment, and it’s nothing like when we were kids but it’s something, and then later in the middle of the night she’ll lean over and she’ll whisper, let’s move to Phoenix and I won’t think it’s a stupid idea this time, I’ll think its her way of trying to take care of me, make sure I’m okay.
Uh, oh. Um. Yeah. So, uh… did you?
Did I what?
Ask her for the beer?
Nah. She’s my wife, not my maid.
I see.
Besides, I ask her to get me one, she starts counting them. I don’t need that kinda help, do I, buck-o?
No, I guess not.