Dearest Rachel –
I’d always thought that it happened the other way around; apparently, the story of legendary baseball pitcher Rube Waddell and his battery-mate Ossie Schreckengost was one where the catcher complained about his mound partner’s behavior – which, given his reputation as a “wild child,” was understandable. However, since Rube was a near-unstoppable force on the mound, and thus a big-ticket marquee draw at the time, I would have thought that “Schreck” wouldn’t have had the pull to get something put into Waddell’s contract like this. The way I heard it, Rube went on strike to get Ossie to stop doing this thing (and he would certainly be the person who could get away with doing such a thing), but now that I’m looking it up, I’ve gotten the players mixed up. So be it.
Anyway, as the story goes, between the 1906 and 1907 seasons, Schreckengost wrote a letter to the manager of the Philadelphia Athletic club, Connie Mack, pointing out that Waddell had a habit of eating animal crackers in bed. Between the crunching of the crackers, which made noise enough to keep Schreck awake, and that crumbs would get onto his side of the bed, the situation was most uncomfortable for the catcher, and he wanted a clause put into Rube’s contract forbidding him from such nocturnal snacking. And evidently, that was done, and all was patched up between the two roommates – although one story also suggested that Waddell played a prank on Mack, by going to talk to him one evening while eating an onion and limburger sandwich, and letting crumbs drop “accidentally” into his bed as “punishment.”
Such are the trials and tribulations of rooming with another person – which I haven’t done now for over four years. But moreover, here’s something that stood out to me; these boys were not only sharing a hotel room, but sharing a bed, and nobody thought anything of it.
My goodness, how far we’ve come, haven’t we? These days, there’s a certain… assumption about guys sharing a room, let alone a bed together. Granted, the latter situation doesn’t apply to Lars and me, as far as I can tell from the arrangements (no, I haven’t really bothered to read the fine print for either the hotel or the ship, but I’m pretty sure about the setup in both places), but it’s slowly been dawning on me what the two of us might look like, on vacation together.
Is this how you felt when folks accused you of being a lesbian, honey? Suddenly, it doesn’t seem quite as amusing when it’s happening to me. And in my case, it’s probably all in my head; no one’s made any outright accusations – indeed, we aren’t yet in a position where any possibilities could even be imagined by an outside observer. It’s just that it’s all starting to occur to me what this might look like, and for whatever reason, that’s getting under my skin.
Feel free to laugh, honey; I get that this is an unreasonable concern on my part. Besides, society has gotten so much more accepting of such behavior these days; who would look askance at us, even if they came to that conclusion about us? For that matter, who would even bother? We’re all wrapped up in our own lives; what concern is it of ours what other people are like, so long as they don’t get into your face about it? Any sort of private behavior is tolerable – ignored, even – as long as one’s public behavior stays within certain norms, and that’s pretty easy to maintain.
Which is the funny part about it all; nobody jumped to such conclusions at the turn of the century, because such behavior was unthinkable. Why, such conduct was actually against the law across the pond, as Oscar Wilde discovered to his everlasting regret barely a decade beforehand. And while the laws here weren’t always so strict (the country was, as it is today, a patchwork, where what was acceptable in one place might get you in trouble elsewhere), it was generally assumed that two gentlemen (however loosely that might term apply in this case, given Rube and Ossie’s off-the-field antics; the boys knew how to party, let’s just say) rooming together were doing so out of economic necessity, as opposed to any emotional or physical connection between them.
It’s ironic that, as society has become more accepting of such connections, its members are more likely to make a contrary assumption about people; whether a judgement is passed on the people being observed is beside the point. Granted, that may also have to do with the fact that economic straits aren’t so much of an issue as they were back then, either. Still, it’s curious to note that, as time has progressed, we have developed a growing need for more and more personal space, so that the connections we have with others don’t run the risk of being misconstrued.
Or maybe it’s just me.
Anyway, as long as you’re having a giggle at my self-manufactured discomfort, I at least can tell that you’re keeping an eye on me. Just keep it up, honey, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 