The games we played

A short while ago I read a friend’s blog post about games we used to play as children.  It was fun thinking of how we entertained ourselves back in the old days.

Of course, if you’ve read my last blog post (http://cindyscountrycorner.com/2009/07/20/a-secret-place/), you know I spent a lot of time playing in the woods so very long ago. 

Back then, we sometimes spent hours away from the house and no one knew where we were, or worried about us, for that matter. And, we climbed trees and climbed rocks and crossed streams or played with some little wild critter if we were lucky enough to catch one.  

One time, when I was about eight years old, I was playing with some older kids in the woods. They were taking turns swinging on a wild grapevine from one hill to another across a rock filled creek. (We’d call it a ‘holler’ if we lived in Kentucky!) It looked fun, but super scary, too. And, after they taunted me and dared me to try it, I of, course, had to or never live it down. Now, I am sure that this was the first time I had ever tried to hold all of my body weight with only my two girly arms so, of course, I couldn’t hang on, and fell to the creek below! I had the wind knocked out of me and thought I was going to die. After my friends helped me limp home, bruised, but not broken, dear dad, unruffled by the whole event, told me to go lay down for awhile! (This, by the way, was the last time I swung on grapevines.)

jacksYep, those were the days! Other, not so dangerous activities included playing jacks – onsesies through tensies, Chinese jump rope, hopscotch, Simon Says, Button Button and Pick Up Sticks. ‘Course, now that I think about it, us girls had some pretty cutthroat jacks competitions!

The Cat's Cradle is the first of many string interpretations.

The Cat's Cradle is the first of many string interpretations.

Do any of you remember the string game? I used to love to play it, the cat’s cradle, soldier’s bed, candles, manger, diamonds, cat’s eye and fish in a dish were what the different patterns were called. (I know this cause I looked it up!) I also discovered that telling stories using string is very old and that Eskimos have one of the hardest to play!

I sometimes laid out stones or pine cones on the ground in a house design, complete with bedrooms, living room, kitchen and bath to play house. Or, made a tent from an old sheet draped across lawn furniture. I remember making mud pies, and cutting up earthworms to serve my guests! Well, the earthworms were only ever eaten on a dare!

I remember once I made a make-believe flute out of a stick and the caps from acorns.  I glued the acorn caps to the stick to represent the keys and then played my instrument in a marching band! The keys kept falling off and I spent time off and on that whole summer trying to improve my design (with no luck, I might add). And, by the time school started that fall I had grown out of acorn flutes.

My favorite board game for about a month was Green Ghost. It was a spooky, glow in the dark game that was really cool to look at, but no fun to play.

I loved my spirograph, too.

Brian had about six sets of Lincoln Logs and could build whole towns and he loved playing Capture the Flag!

Well, I could go on and on, but if I think of absolutely everything I ever did as a child, I wouldn’t leave room for you to share your kid stuff!

So, please, comment away! May you have as much fun thinking about your childhood play as I did mine!

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A bucket list

Have you seen the movie “The Bucket List”? Edward Cole (Jack Nicholson), the billionaire, and Carter Chambers (Morgan Freeman), a smart scholarly mechanic, meet in a cancer ward and decide to compose a bucket list – things to do before they kick the bucket. They go off on their bucket list adventure jumping from planes, racing cars, gazing at pyramids, etc.

I watched the movie last year on DVD with my sisters during our sister vacation in Colorado. I don’t think any of us actually sat down and composed a list afterward, but we talked about it being a cool idea. We agreed that our whitewater rafting adventure was something we could cross off our imaginary lists. They (not me) also got their tattoos (not on my list), which was something they had talked about doing for several years, so they could cross that off their lists, too. Instead, I jumped off a bridge into the Poudre River and crossed that off my imaginary list!

Sometimes I think about composing my real bucket list. I wonder what I would put on it.

Here is what I’ve got so far:

  • I’d like to write a book AND have it published AND have it be number one on the NYT bestseller list.
  • I’d like to tour all seven continents. I’d like to spend a year in each one (other than Antarctica – several weeks would probably do it there).
  • Barring being able to do item listed above, I’d like to go to the UK and tour the countryside, see Stonehenge and kiss the Blarney Stone (after I wiped it off with sanitizer, of course).
  • I’d like to see Australia and New Zealand and scuba dive in the Great Barrier Reef (without any fear of sharks).
  • I’d like to go to Greece or anywhere in the Mediterranean and drink Ouzo with the locals.
  • Closer to home, I’d like to go to Vancouver, British Columbia, New Orleans and Boston.
  • I’d like to swim with dolphins or whale sharks (gentle giants).
  • I’d like to start my own business doing something so enjoyable I don’t think of it as work.
  • I’d like to break the world record for longest roller skating.
  • I’d like to get a hole in one.
  • I’d like to learn Gaelic.
  • I’d like to take a ride in a hot air balloon.
  • I’d like to learn to ballroom dance.
  • I’d like to ride the Rollo Coaster at Idlewild Park with my sisters.

What I am discovering in creating a written list is that it is hard. There is a part of my brain that is telling me that if I put it to paper, I better get it all down or risk losing my chance of ever doing it. Which is silly, of course, because in reality our bucket lists are in our hearts, not written down and we check things off as we go through life.

So, dear people, what’s on your bucket lists that you haven’t already crossed off?

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Make love, not war

Back in the summer of 1969, I was 10 years old. That was the summer of Woodstock and although I knew I wouldn’t be able to get there, I asked my mom if I could go. I envisioned standing at the end of my driveway wearing a tie-dyed tee shirt with a big peace sign on it, and getting picked up by a group of strangers making their way to upstate New York for the great festival weekend. These strangers would immediately love me and include me as one of their own because they were hippies. I would spend the weekend with them, sleeping in the back of their beat up, psychedelic painted Volkwagon Van (or it might have been an old yellow school bus with tie-dyed curtains on the windows – my vision wasn’t perfectly clear on that point).

And I wanted to burn my bra, too (even though I wasn’t wearing one yet).   

You know, I’ve never told anyone this memory before. Not that it is any great secret, really, it’s just that I had forgotten about it.

Until recently.  You see, our grown daughter thinks Brian and I were are hippies. I never knew she thought that of us, but she has made that reference several times recently, so it got me thinking.

As an adult, when I look back at , I remember the unrest and social upheavel. There were riots, deaths on college campuses and National Guardsmen on the news each night.  It was the establishment pitted against the youth. It was the decade that we lost John F. Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr.

It was also the decade of my youth. I might not have been mature enough to have a clear understanding of all that was going on (after all, I was just a kid), but, I was at an age where those events would impress me and shape who I would become.

I was of the age that I should have been what hippies referred to as a “teeny bopper.”  This is the term for people too young to be hippies and who would eventually like music like The Monkees and The Partridge Family. But, I wasn’t there so much. I was more in to Jefferson Airplane and Bob Dylan and Arlo Guthrie.

I wore granny glasses and had a pair of Beatle boots. And, I knew of Jack Kerouac, Aldous Huxley, Timothy Leary (“turn on, tune in, drop out”), even though I didn’t have a clue about what they were talking about.  

My perception of the 60s was colored with the depth of knowledge any two to 12 year old might have had. “Make love, not war” was a beautiful sentiment to me. I didn’t know what making love actually was then, but I knew it was better than war. Guess, I’m still not wrong about that!

Yes, they were a turbulent, violent time, those days, but I believed in the true philosophy of the hippy. At their core, hippies believe in peace as the way to resolve differences among people, ideologies and religion. They believe that the way to peace is through love and tolerance. They believe in accepting others as they are, giving them freedom to express themselves and not judging them based on appearances.

So, years later, my daughter grows up in a household that subscribes to Mother Earth News, and the house has tie-dyed curtains in all the rooms, and her mom wears ‘earth shoes” and walks to work on Earth Day, and marches on Washington in support of women’s rights and makes macrame crafts. She grows up listening to her mom’s music like The Beatles, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young and Arlo Guthrie.

Is that why she thinks I’m a hippy?

(By the way, remember the song Mellow Yellow, by Donovan? It wasn’t about loving saffron, it was about getting high by smoking a banana. I swear, I didn’t know!)

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