– Random Writings: Column by Rebecca Lindquist – - I’m game

– Random Writings: Column by Rebecca Lindquist –

This past weekend’s weather had the city park teaming with activity. I took advantage of the sunshine and warmth, and opened the windows to enjoy the fresh air. In doing so, I was able to hear the kids laughing as they played, shouting back and forth to each other.

I’m not certain what game they were playing, but I distinctly heard one little boy repeatedly and emphatically proclaim he was “not it.”

This made me wonder if children today play the same games as when I was growing up. My sister, Bethie, recently mentioned telling her granddaughter, Lennie, about activities we used to do, to entertain ourselves, when we lived on the farm in Viola. She told her about the game foursquare and Lennie was fascinated, and asked if Bethie would teach her how to play.

We attended Viola Elementary and there were four foursquare courts painted on the playground blacktop, used for gym class, as well as recess. It was a huge hit and necessitated waiting in line for several minutes, for a turn.

This popular event was a daily occurrence, until snow covered our playing field. In the spring, the custodian would repaint the lines decimated from winter maintenance of salting/sanding, enabling us to resume play.

The playground featured a couple permanently painted hopscotch grids, but also provided a bucket of chalk for budding artists to create their own unique patterns.

Bethie mentioned the tractor tire sandbox we used to play in on the farm. I had forgotten all about it until she mentioned it. The sandbox was located out in the yard, close to the hayfield. It was set up near the swing set in the shade of the apple trees and within easy view of Mom, when she was by the corner of the field plucking chickens.

We raised chickens and Mom would give us any eggs that were unsuitable for consumption. We had an ancient egg incubator that didn’t work properly and, despite Mom’s meticulous care, there was always an egg or two that never hatched. We also became the proud owners of eggs that were cracked or had been hen-pecked before we were able to collect them.

These coveted gems were used to lovingly create exotic dishes in the sandbox. Bethie and I would take empty glass pop bottles, crack an egg inside it, toss in some sand and a little water, replace the lid, which never properly fit again after being pried off with a bottle opener, and gave it a good shake to mix it. It looked disgusting, but we had so much fun.

The bottles would fit nicely under the tire rim and would remain tucked under there for several days, until Mom suggested it was time to pour them out. The stench was horrible and overpowering from sitting in the elements for a prolonged time, but never prevented us from doing the same thing over and over again, every time we got our hands on some cast off eggs.

Our neighbors raised geese and one had laid eggs, but never returned to the nest. Bethie and I thought we were in hog heaven when we saw the size of the eggs. We even had to call in the reserves for additional bottles.

Goose egg yolks are huge and gave us so much yolk, it warranted expanding our menu selection by adding grass clippings and small twigs, and the occasional dried out worm.

Eat your heart out, Julia Child.

Along with foursquare, hopscotch and the sandbox, we played Red Rover, tag, and hide and seek, which I’m sure kids still play today, and creating chalk pictures, coloring and playing board games won’t ever go out of style. Nowadays, it’s more common to see youth playing games on their phones, starting at a very young age.

The closest thing resembling anything even remotely electronic, was the battery-operated game Operation, which, at the time, I thought was high tech indeed.

The forms of entertainment may take a different shape with each generation, but the memories and enjoyment from experiencing them, won’t ever change.