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I’ve talked about it before. But something popped up, online, this morning, that brought back a good and sad memory. And it’s about sticks. But not just any kind. I’m talkin’ about Pick Up Sticks. A game that used to be popular with kids before technology took the soul out of games.Anyway…
Back to the memory.
My brother and I used to ride the Santa Fe Big Chief twice a year. And we didn’t live in Santa Fe. And there was no Indian giving us piggyback rides either. No, it was a train ride. From Houston, Texas to Kansas City, Missouri in the first week of June. And from Kansas City back to Houston at the end of August.
But what does that have to do with Pick Up Sticks?
Well, aren’t you the impatient one. I was just getting to that.
We took those train rides, twice a year, because my parents divorced when my brother and I were young. And they moved far apart. Mom went to Missouri and then Kansas. Dad went to Texas. But they worked out terms for us to see both of them for long periods of time. Not just every other weekend.
So, every year, at the end of nine months in school, my brother and I were put on the Big Chief and sent off to Union Station in K.C. And then we’d spend the summer with Mom.
Toward the end of summer, she’d take us to get some new school clothes. And most of the time she’d also get us something to occupy our minds and time during the 19 hour train trip. Usually it was some sort of road trip game. And one year she bought us a tube of Pick Up Sticks.
They looked like large, multi-colored toothpicks. And here’s how you play. You sorta just empty the sticks out the tube and let them fall into a pile. Then, the object is to pick up a stick without making any other sticks fall out of place. Once you get your first stick, you can also use it to be more precise in the movements. And the winner is the one with the highest points based on the color of the sticks.
Keep in mind, we played that game on a moving train.
So, picking up the sticks without them rolling out of place wasn’t as easy as you might think. We had fun. And the game DID help to pass the time. But on a sad note (well, for my brother), he was never able to beat me. At least, that’s how I recall it. He might remember it differently. But he was the younger brother, so…nope.
As you can see, it’s a fond memory for me. But it’s also sad. Because it shows some of the tough stuff kids have to go through when husbands and wives ignore God’s recommendations for marriage. And, even though I’ve always managed to put a positive spin on it, my parents’ divorce showed the consequences of selfishness.
But enough of the downer stuff. Ten years ago, I shared a poem, for kids, about the wonder of old-fashioned games. Here it is again.
Tiddlywinks and Pick Up Sticks
Tiddlywinks and pick up sticks
And rainbows and balloons…
Maybe add some marbles, too,
And silly, happy tunes.
Funtime in the bright sunshine
To while the hours away…
Oh, and what I wouldn’t give
To be a kid today.
I’d set up the checkerboard
And play a game or two…
Then go grab my bag of jacks
And see how well I’d do.
Maybe I’d go find my friends,
And we could fly a kite
Tied onto our fishing pole…
We’d send it out of sight.
Then we’d reel it in again
And go and get our bikes…
And we’d ride to secret lands
‘Cross levees and ‘cross dikes.
After that I’d say goodbye
And we’d all go our ways.
Yes, I guess that’s just how my
Imagination plays.
© 2013
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