Around the Kitchen Table: Games kids used to play

Last week I visited my in-laws. They are in their early 90s and are experiencing major health problems. I guess that’s why every time I stop by something else comes home with me – a stack of magazines, a bracelet, extra food containers, other random stuff. They’ve reached the stage of life where they are more interested in “casting away,” as Solomon said.

This time, Oma gifted me with her dad’s childhood marbles. They are well over 100 years old. The first thing that happened? The lid to the container was loose and one of the collection, a pretty blue one, fell onto the kitchen floor and shattered! I felt bad. It was an accident. But really? They had stayed together, intact, for more than a century and all it took was less than five seconds in the hands of a klutz (yours truly) to decimate the set. I apologized profusely as I swept up the sparkling glass shards. Oma just shrugged and said, “Don’t worry about it.” But I did … all the way home.

As I mourned the passing of Papa’s prettiest marble, I started thinking about Dad teaching us to play marbles when we were kids. He also told stories about his childhood and about the boys who would gather during recess outside their one-room schoolhouse to shoot marbles. Some boys were so good, they would win almost every time, amassing quite the collection of “aggies or shooters” (as Dad called the big ones you would use to knock the other marbles out of the circle). Dad said he played some, but he didn’t want to risk losing his favorite marble, a big clear one with a multi-colored swirl in it, so he was choosey about who he played against.

I don’t think Dad still has any of those marbles. A lot of his stuff (most of it) disappeared while he was overseas during World War II. I guess they thought his stuff was fair game since he might not come back. His oldest brother even sold his truck and traded his horse. Dad forgave him; I don’t know if I’d been so generous.

Thinking about marbles brought other childhood games to mind. Remember jacks and tiddlywinks? I loved jacks. It was a challenge to learn to bounce that little ball and grab those prickly jacks without injuring myself. I also loved washers and hopscotch.

Dad taught me how to hold a washer so it would sail through the air and land with a plop! Flat, instead of skittering away on its edge. I can still play a mean game of washers, thanks to all those years of expert instruction and observation.

When it came to hopscotch, I loved making the most difficult and elaborate square combinations I could manage. When I tried my rusty skills a few weeks ago with my grands, I was able to draw a decent set-up, but by the time I’d drawn it and demonstrated how to navigate it, I was so out of breath I had to sit down. Thank goodness they caught on fast, so I didn’t have to repeat my demo.

Something else every kid used to know and love were cooperative games, those that used to naturally organize themselves whenever and wherever a group of kids gathered. We learned to play at school during recess, in our neighborhoods and at family get-togethers. I don’t remember anyone formally teaching me the rules to hide and seek, chase, freeze tag, Red Rover, Mother May I or the Little White House Over the Hill. There was an awful lot of arguing over the rules and sometimes intense negotiations, but we always worked things out, without adult supervision or interference.

Looking back, we learned a lot more than just the rules during those impromptu games. We learned how to argue our case, listen to opposing views and how to reach an agreement – or at least some sort of agreeable compromise. A lot of good playground debaters I knew back then grew up to become lawyers and counselors … go figure.

Maybe we need to re-introduce our kids and grandkids to those “old-fashioned” games. Teach them the basics, then step back and let them take over. Maybe they would learn some of the valuable skills too many seem to be lacking today – mediation, patience and, as the old song goes, “know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em.”

I remember some kids were so stubborn they’d rather quit playing than negotiate, but even those kids eventually realized that the only thing they accomplished with that attitude was missing out on the fun. They usually came back to the game, and we would welcome them without judgement. After all, most of us had a “hill” we’d stood on at one time or another.

Many of the childhood lessons we learned through play and the sometimes-creative rules we invented were valuable only in retrospect. I can’t remember a single game of “Murder in the Dark” (a title we used when night caught us playing tag outside in summer) where I thought, “I’m learning a skill here,” but now I can see many were indeed bult into these types of outdoor adventures that we called plain ol’ fun.

Bet you can recall some of the games you used to play. Why not shake off the dust, fine-tune your kid skills and show a new generation what it’s all about? They may laugh their heads off at the idea, but isn’t being silly part of the fun?

Grown-ups can forget what it’s like to be a kid, me included, but your soul remembers. Give it half a chance and I’ll bet you’ll find yourself shouting “Mother May I?” with the rest of them.

by Tamra M. Bolton