The Write Perspective

Growing up, we lived a few miles from Uncle Marion’s and we rarely spent the evening without them. 

We didn’t have a set tradition of how we spent every night together. Our hobbies changed regularly, usually coming to an abrupt end with broken windows, bones, or relationships. It would take days to detail everything we did but here are some of our favorite activities.

Kickball was played in our basement. There was a limit on how many people could play; two crowded a team but was the standard amount. The bystanders sat on the steps to watch while the players flew madly about the room. The madness quickly turned  into absolute rage. Rage strengthened the legs that kicked the ball.  A broken lightbulb, fan blade, and two angry fathers forced us into an early retirement. 

Rabbit was another favorite which we played at Marion’s. Looking back, I think the adults must have worked out a deal so the costs of damage would be evenly divided. 

Rhoda: “I can’t have people playing both rabbit and kickball at my house. Right Marion?”

Marion: *reads newspaper 

Keturah: “I think that’s a good idea. I don’t like the fan in our basement so we’ll take kickball. Tim, what do you think?”

Tim: *reads a book

If you’re not familiar with Rabbit, I’m sorry, but that also means you had a less violent childhood than we did. To summarize, the “rabbits” run through the prison box (living room) while the existing prisoners try to tackle and hold them in the box until the person who is “it” runs around the house and back into the box to tag them with the ball. I was the third youngest  so if I was the only prisoner I preyed on the small and weak – usually Rebekah or Shana. Two of us could go after a larger person and so on. Towards the end of a game you would often see Ladon or Winston struggling through the living room with Mel, Shana and Bekah clinging to his legs while Shari, Carole and Megan clung to them. The other boys might be off to the side punching each other and Rhoda, the “itter” would be sprinting  through the house as fast as she could hollering, “HOLD ON GIRLS!” Occasionally a look flashed across Andrew or Zach’s face that made the prisoners’ courage fail and they quickly created a path for the menacing figures.

I’d like to take this time to remember several of Rhoda’s favorite teacups, (R.I.P.) and salute her lamp that hit the floor countless times in self defense. Truly, survival of the fittest.

Random competitions arose. “I bet you can’t kick these fan pulls.” So everyone tried to kick the fan pulls. We watched every technique closely so we could perform a little better than the last. Looking down at Zack lying dazed on the hard floor we noted it would be wise to remove any stockings.  

We also played lots of card games. Rook, Sets and Runs, Texas Four, and marbles. None of us have ever been described as mild-mannered, neither were the games. If it got bad enough the mothers would send us outside into the sub-zero weather to cool off. 

“Hey there’s a meteor shower tonight!” Rhoda announced once. We gathered sleeping bags, coats, and blankets and huddled together on the snow. I don’t remember anything that was said or even seeing any falling stars but it’s one of my favorite memories. (Drugs?) it became a favorite thing to do and I  love stargazing to this day. 

During the summer we played croquet almost exclusively. This was one of the calmer games, until a rule change stirred up strife between the two families. We eventually matured and stopped fighting every game. This was soon after Marion’s moved and they weren’t there to defend their point of view.

After we finished the croquet game a drive was in order. Everyone piled on the back of the truck and one sad driver with a sad sidekick (also known as Ladon and Winston) sat in the cab. We talked about life, croquet, apples, and everyone we knew, then argued over the number of elk on the hill. The drive always ended the same way – hair tangled in dusty heaps and attempts to perfect the dismount from the back of the truck. 

Over four years ago, as I’m sure you remember, a disease swept the globe. We were not overlooked, and The Adult Coloring Book Craze spared no one. Our tables were littered with markers of every shade  known to man. Men, women, and children alike sat around the table, hunched over ridiculously intricate pictures. Summer cured everyone, and hundreds of half finished pictures were gleefully thrown into the trash. (If anyone completed a picture, let me know; you may be eligible for an award.)

Throughout all the chaos of Rabbit and the silence of coloring, two things remained the same: Marion and Dad. They sat in the living room reading or dozing. I never saw them exchange words but they enjoyed each other’s company. 

As I said, there’s no way to sum up all we did in a single article. I think Winnie the Pooh said it best: “We didn’t realize we were making memories, we just knew we were having fun.”