Rules? Whose rules?

When I was a little girl, playtime I had was pretty much unsupervised.  I could roam the fields, walk over to my friend Betty’s house, or play ball at Mike’s with his brother and sister, and the rest of the neighborhood kids.  I dared to go down Terry Lane with Nancy and Dougie, and built villages in the brush with Tommy and Bonita.  Of course we had rules.  Some got handed out by parents, some were rules of the games, some we made up by ourselves.

“Walk on the left side of the road,” Mom said.  “So you can see what’s coming.” Continue reading

Croquet, Badminton and Piggy-in-my-Pen

Nobody worked on 4th of July.  Except around the house; there, work never stopped.  Meals still needed to be fixed, barn chores had to be done, and of course, tomato worms loved July.  Still, The 4th of July was always a fun day; always, always company was over for a picnic and games and of course sparklers.

Aluminum drinking glasses

Devil-eggs, potato salad, hotdogs, chopped onions and cucumbers in soured milk, and lots of fresh tomatoes, and pitchers and pitchers of Kool-Aid. Nancy’s mom brought over these neat-o metal glasses for ice tea and Kool-Aid.  All the adults loved those glasses ’cause they weren’t plastic and because they wouldn’t break like glass glasses did.  Dad hated to drink out of plastic.  I hated those metal glasses, ’cause if the Kool-Aid was ice-cold with ice right in the glass, just the way I liked it, my lips stuck to the metal and it hurt to peel them off, besides the metal got all slippery-slimy wet on the outside and pretty soon somebody spilled Kool-Aid all over the picnic table and Mom would say “Why can’t you be more careful?” in a way that wasn’t a question at all.  Outside, I could just let a spill go right on through the cracks in the picnic table.  In the house, me and Bonita and Deanna and Vickie got super fast at picking up the edges of the plastic tablecloth while a Little Kid ran to get a rag out of the ragbox.  That way, no sticky Kool-Aid mess got on the floor.  I guess that kinda of stuff never happened to adults, ’cause I never heard anyone complain about those metal glasses. Still, I have to admit, those cups sure were pretty, sometimes that’s more important than anything to adults.  Nancy’s mom was super-proud of them like the way she was super-proud of how Nancy could sing the ABC song.  Nancy’s mom never said that, but I could tell ’cause every time Nancy got to the part where she sang, “Now I sang my ABCs, tell me what you think of me.” Nancy had a look on her face like she thought she was the smartest girls in the whole wide world.  I wanted to say, “So what?  Nobody uses them in that order.  Everybody knows Continue reading