But, in some ways, it was not bad to be the least
athletically skilled person in the gym.
I got to sit out early on in the game- free to be lazy and
daydream. If I was the first one out,
chances are someone average took me out with a gentle toss. As the game progressed and got more serious,
there were only the strongest and fastest kids left. At that point, you’re walking away with a
big, red, ball-sized welt where you were walloped. Good times…
There was a dodging game I did like to play in the 70’s.
The playing field was the back seat of a big, old car with bench seats. The game usually started as my brother and me
fighting each other in the back seat- just ceaseless bickering, name-calling,
hair pulling and rolling around. (No seat
belts. The 70’s were like the Wild West
of child/car safety. )
It wouldn’t last long before my mother would start
yelling at us to “Knock it off!” And
threatening, “If I have to pull this car over…” That never worked because she never
finished the sentence. She might’ve had
more luck if she’d finished it with, “…I will rip you out of this car and beat you about your heads with my purse
while you cower and cry by the curb where your friends will see as they drive
by with their parents and they will make fun of you in school and call you
crybabies and…”
Invariably, we would just keep doing what we were
doing. (What else could we do? There was no
other entertainment. No rear DVDs. No iPods.)
Eventually, my poor mother would crack under the strain and go
crazy. She would drive with her left
hand as the right reached over the back and tried to grab or swat anyone in her
reach. Whoo-Hoo! Entertainment! New game: Dodge Arm!! Suddenly my brother and I were comrades! Teammates joined in a single purpose: dodging the arm and laughing manically at my
mother! Incensing her further! Yee-haw!
I still have a memory of being small in the back seat and
laughing at “the arm” as it swung by in slo-mo.
I have to be honest though; I
don’t remember how this game ended. I
hope my mother wound up laughing with us sometimes. Or maybe I have amnesia from being beaten at
the curb with a purse? I thought I was just making that part up…
P.S. When my kids are bickering and making me crazy,
I remind them of Dodge Arm. I swing
wildly back at them but it’s not really the game it could be. Despite all the hiding places a minivan
offers, they are safely strapped down.
Maybe I should invent a parking lot version. They could unbuckle and go anywhere in the
van while I have to stay in the front. BUT I am allowed to throw things! Library books, water bottles, sunblock, bug
spray. I could win this one!
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