The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1936-05-19
NOW
Beaten Mother
BeUdiLs Fate
CAN'T TAKE IT
BY HELEN ESSARY

~ A - - AAAA% - -
BY HELEN ESSARY
Field Day at the National Cathe,
dral School for Girls has always
been an agreeable and prideful
occasion. But this year the ath-
4etic society said:
why not make the day anus
Ing alSO-intrOduce few par
entS into the events. Ask the
mothers to play dodge ball
against the daughters? Have
the fathers and daughters COM
pete in a baseball game?"
On the afternoon of the big day,
the schools athletic field, that
great broad meadow at the corner
OF Woodley Road and Thirty
fourth Street, part of the estate
OF the late Canon Austin, looked
gay and inviting, not at all like a
place of sacrifice for middle age.
Purple and gold balloons danced
on long overhead wires and hung
in clusters. Purple and gold are
ecclesiastical colors chosen by the
school that flourishes under the
shadow of st. Adams Cathedral.
Students of the middle and up
per schools in yellow shorts and
blouses-the purple team wore
purple festoons about ankles,
wrists and Threats and the gold
team chose gold festoonS-were
busy with last-minute arrange.
ments. Awfully pretty and healthy
these children looked, with strong
bodies, happy faces and eager
shining eyes.
Assorted pet dogs-police, bull
dogs, elbows, scotties and terriers
with big gold satin bows on their
collars-were frisking about. A
lamb, mascot of the Puppies, led
on a leash and a fuzzy white
puppy decorated with a gold rib
bon were introduced to each other
and shifted a polite hoW-do-you-do.
Mothers and fathers perched on
the grand stand and seated in
chairs were greeted by Miss Tur-
ner, head mistress of the school,
and by Miss Templeton and Miss
Amman.
A very attractive girl announced
through a megaphone that the
program was about to begin. An
archery contest and tumbling and
racing stunts were soon under
way.
All of these athletic events were
pleasant. So was the running
broad jump, the 75-yard dash. the
high jump, the relay race and the
basketball throw. But to me the
motherdaughter dodge ball game
was the poignant contest.
Not one of the mothers had
ever played dodge ball before. All
of the daughters were experts at
the game. The wretched mothers,
in dark street dresses, prints and
lowered chiffon, in high-heeled
shoes and sneakers, were led out
on the field of combat.
Apprehensively they took their
places in the center of ring of
dancing demons in yellow shorts
and bare legs.
We were told, helpfully, that
our trick was to dodge the ball
thrown across our heads by our
loving daughters. The daughters
would try to hit as many parents
as possible. A blow below the
waist counted a parent out.
While the Mothers skittered
about squealing, the Daughters
concentrated on the game. Each
Daughter, with her turn at the
ball, aimed at her nearest and
dearest relative. With each throw
a frightened parent would be out.
One Daughter disqualified three
trying-to-dodge Mothers with one
toss of the ball.
I caught a ball on my head.
Although I teetered and saw stars
I was not disqualified, as the
blow was above the waist.
I suppose it was my stricken
look that made the captain take
the Mothers out of the center,
give them the ball and tell them
to aim at the Daughters.
The Mothers aimed and aimed
again, with feeble persistence.
Not once did any Mother hit any
Daughter-not even her own child
on whom she might reasonably
have liked to explode in parental
wrath.
AS the Daughters continued to
Scamper on their toes and dodge
the maternal throws without ap-
pearing to try to, the captain lie
cided that the game was over.
The Daughters had won.
Giggling alphabetically, the
Mothers skunk away, overwhelm-
ingly defeated by their offspring.
In this beautiful opportunity to
pat youth in its place, middle age
had failed pitifully. I heard one
Daughter say:
"Poor dears, the Mothers just
couldn't take it,
And as for the Fathers and
Daughters baseball game, I've only
this to report: The Daughters
best was a tie. It's man.