8-08-02, Lisa Laird
Lisa's Lair
By Lisa Laird
IPS Features
THE GAMES WE PLAYED
There are many pastimes I reflect upon here and
there. Some of them, I haven’t
done in years, such as playing tag, running bases, or hopscotch.
Then again, isn’t dating actually a game in which the objective is to
catch someone else? And running
bases is symbolic of how we often run back and forth between two destinations,
but never seem to go anywhere else. Sort of like going to work and then back home each day, never
breaking the monotonous cycle we each sentence ourselves to.
As for hopscotch, adults don’t throw rocks or sticks into boxes made of
chalk and then jump and hop around avoiding lines.
Although, for a substantial career move, they’d leap like frogs.
I recall a game we often played, commonly referred to as
“super heroes.” Very simply,
we’d shout out the character we each chose to become for the next hour or so.
Or, until we all tired of the game.
I always opted for “Wonder Woman.”
She was strong, smart, and looked better than anyone should in the cute,
little, outfit she fought for justice in. And
she carried a gold colored lasso that caused villains to tell the truth when
wrapped around them. Every wife
should own one to use on her husband. I’m
sure many women would be the ones ultimately fit to be tied as a result. I’m not exactly Wonder Woman, but I am the perfect
prototype of a very wondering woman; close enough for me.
Then there was the “hot potato” game.
He or she left holding the potato when the music stopped was deemed the
loser. I suppose that game is the
childhood version of “passing the buck.”
Similarly, in a business setting, no one wants to get the blame, to be
the scapegoat. Eventually, someone
gets stuck taking the heat, whether or not he or she rightfully deserves to.
And it’s usually one hot potato.
We energetically played on swing sets and climbed on
monkey bars. Two brothers, who
lived down the block, had a spectacular tree house in their backyard.
It wasn’t actually built in a tree; rather, it was a square-shaped,
wooden house, elevated by several sturdy structures.
There was also a stationary ladder providing an easy climb.
I often wished I could live in that house, as it was peaceful, cozy, and
in its own way, separated from conventional civilization.
My idea of a sanctuary hasn’t changed too much since then, I’m happy
to admit.
As an extremely imaginative child, I once had a slumber
party and transformed the basement into my vision of a haunted house.
I cooked spaghetti, with my mother’s help, of course, and placed it in
a bowl. Next to that bowl, was
another, containing pieces of chalk. I
blindfolded the girls and when they reached into the bowls, I told them they
were touching George Washington’s brains and Abe Lincoln’s fingers.
Although we can’t fool all of the people all of the time, their
high-pitched screams proved to me that a creative mind has the ability to fool
some of the people some of the time.
Nowadays, while walking through the local park, I
sometimes stop at the playground and swing as high as I possibly can, while
staring into the limitless sky. It
makes me feel childlike and carefree, if only for a few moments.
I recapture a little bit of what seems like so long ago.
I’ll even hang upside down on the parallel bars when no one is around,
just to prove to myself that I still can.
I never realized until now how much the games we played
as children have taught us. We
learned imagination, abiding by rules, and endless possibilities.
We were able to be the people we were, and also, the people we weren’t.
And both were okay. Perhaps
children are unknowingly wiser than adults, and we lose that basic wisdom as we
become tainted by our perceived expectations attached to maturity.
I’m content with holding on to some of my ancient
ideals and recapturing a few of the highlights of my younger days, once in a
blue moon. But the present is where
I prefer to reside; it’s where I belong.
Although, I often miss the tree house.
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