Judy Baer - Oh, Baby!

“Back already?” Matilda, a robust woman in her sixties, said when she saw me enter. “You knit faster than anyone else I know.”

“Not really. I just buy yarn faster than anyone else you know.” I headed straight for the soft pinks, blues, yellows and greens. “I want enough to knit a couple of baby hats.”

“I’ve got something you’ll like even better.” Matilda dug beneath the counter and came up with a pattern book. “New hats. Look.”

She opened the book to reveal a massively colorful jester’s hat with six points and silver bells on the tip of each point. There was also a knitted stovepipe hat reinforced with a cardboard liner that looked like something the Mad Hatter might wear, and an alligator hat with its jaws open at the back of the wearer’s head. “Anyone you know need a new hat?”

My weakness is hats, the louder and more garish the better. I make them for everyone I know. What’s more, I insist they wear them. Poor Caboose, er, Kevin. Because he was the youngest, he got more of my hats than my other siblings. The boy wore my knitted hats in the shapes of animals or vegetables until junior high when I made him a hat that tied beneath his chin and had an elephant face and trunk on the back.

I gave up pressing him about it when he said he’d fear for his life in the boys’ dressing room if he wore the hat to school. I gave it to my oldest brother, Mike’s, son. He was three at the time and had less violent friends.

Crazy hats strike me as funny and lift my spirits. If everyone in the world wore a zany hat, we wouldn’t take ourselves so seriously and news programs and political debates on television would be much more fun.

After purchasing the pattern book and yarn I needed, I drove toward Bradshaw Medical to meet Lissy and Tony and for lunch.

Everything about Bradshaw Medical is picturesque. The hospital sits on top of an undulating hill with a gradual slope. It was built by Everett Bradshaw in the sixties. Bradshaw had made his wealth early as a reconstructive cosmetic surgeon, and rumor has it that he’d felt compelled to “give back” to the community. Not a big hospital in size but very impressive in reputation, the facility has long since been a place where very public personalities go for treatment away from prying eyes. It had also been at Everett Bradshaw’s suggestion that the free clinic had come into being. Other than Everett’s grumpy grandson, a lot of good things are happening at Bradshaw Medical.

And not only that, they have a great cafeteria.

Lissy and Tony were already waiting for me.

“Where’s your nurse’s uniform?” I asked as I joined Lissy at a small round table.

“I’m already off for the day. I came in early to cover for someone. I changed out of my uniform so I’d be ready to rumble when you got here.”

“I’m hardly in a ‘rumbling’ mood. I have chores to do at home.”

“I know, I know, feed the livestock, slop the hogs…”

“I do not give Geranium ‘slop’ as you so crassly call it!”

“…paint a picture, knit a hat, live a horribly boring life….”

“Molly’s not boring. She’s the least boring person I know.” Tony, looking dashing in pure white, leered at me. “Beautiful, too.”

He put a tray on the table and began to unload it. “I though I’d get my food right away.”

“Turkey sandwich, potato chips, chili, nachos and cheese, French silk pie and ice cream? Tony, there’s enough food there to feed my entire family!” And that’s saying a lot.

He put his hands protectively over the pie. “It’s barely enough to keep me alive. Get your own.”

Lissy eyed his trim waist and washboard abs beneath his shirt. “Life is not fair. I’m going to gain weight just sitting at the same table with all that food.”

Tony dragged a big chip through the warm orange cheese and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm. Fresh chips. You’ll have to get some.”

Shaking our heads, Lissy and I went through the cafeteria line and each picked up a salad and, as a wildly extravagant gesture, decided to split a piece of fresh strawberry pie.

When we returned to the table, Tony shook his head sorrowfully.

“We can’t help it if our metabolisms can’t keep up with yours,” Lissy said as he stared at the food on our plates.

“‘My salad days, when I was green in judgment.’”

Lissy and I stared at Tony.

“That’s what Cleopatra says at the end of Act One of Anthony and Cleopatra,” Tony informed us.

“You mean she was on a diet, too? I hope she didn’t get as sick of lettuce as I have.” Lissy stared down at her plate. “It’s been going on a long time, then. Dieting, I mean.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “‘Salad days’ doesn’t mean she’s on a diet. Cleopatra regretted her youthful inexperience and indiscretions. She meant that when she was young she was, like, well, green.” He looked at Lissy’s confused expression. “You know, like the tender shoots in spring—new.”

“Young and dumb,” I provided.

“What does this have to do with anything?” Lissy demanded.

“Nothing,” Tony said. “I looked at the salad on your plate and thought of Shakespeare, that’s all.”

“If there’s a woman out there for you, she’s going to be a strange one, Tony. If my salad reminds you of Shakespeare, what does my—” Lissy picked up a piece of cutlery “—my fork make you think of?”

Tony opened his mouth but I shut it for him with my finger. “Stop right there. I’m not up to a Shakespeare discussion right now.”

Then I turned to Lissy. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Tony, you’re too bright and too handsome for your own good,” Lissy pointed out. “You’re going to have a hard time meeting your match.”

He shuttered his eyes to half-mast and looked at me. “I’ve already met her. She just won’t have anything to do with me. Right, Molly?”

Lissy mimed sticking her finger down her throat and gagging at that.

I quickly changed the subject. “Are either of you going to volunteer at the free clinic this month? The new schedule comes out soon.”

“I can’t. I’m scheduled to work most of the days the clinic is open.”

“Me, too,” Tony said. “But I’m planning to be with you the nights we teach Lamaze classes.”

“I said I’d fill in at the reception desk when I can, although it won’t be enough,” I said. “The clinic is growing by leaps and bounds.”

“It seems odd to me that a medical facility like Bradshaw opened a free branch,” Lissy commented as she ate most of the strawberries off our slice of pie.

“The people they treat have to be low income and have no medical insurance,” Tony pointed out. “These people might not even seek medical help otherwise.”

“Whoever thought up that idea was very forward thinking,” Lissy commented.

Everett Bradshaw, I thought. It was odd how cutting-edge he’d been—and how his grandson was now retreating to the “old” forties ways.

“Want to go sailing with us this afternoon?” Tony asked. “The weather is perfect for it.”

Tony, among his other manly, girl-attracting attributes, owns a sailboat. I don’t think he’s a very good sailor, but he loves to see his dates in bathing suits. That’s his best and only reason for keeping the boat. He prefers a snowmobile. Unfortunately his dates then have to dress up in snowsuits so fluffy they look like the Michelin Man.

“I can’t. Hildy and I have an appointment today at three. We’re visiting the nursing home. I have to run home to get her after I eat and bring her back.”

“You’re no fun.” Lissy pouted. “Dates with dogs, knitting weird hats, rubbing pregnant ladies’ backs… You’ve got to get some new hobbies.”