11:45. Lunch time. On the menu today was a favorite, pigs in a blanket. I traded my chocolate pudding for a second helping from the kid at the end of the folding lunch table. The lunch hall was abuzz with the sounds of children’s laughter, trays clanking and silverware clicking. Echoes could be heard in the nearby halls; if you had just entered the school it would be evident where everyone was.
Children were required to stay indoors for fifteen minutes before they could perform the usual mass exodus to the playground where they could play another twenty minutes. There were many things to do outside. Kickball was a popular past time. Four square was played quite regularly; resonating rubber balls on pavement marked by squares was a comforting sound. The swings and jungle gym were magnets to all the kids, but it was first come first serve and unless you were quick, you would have to wait for someone to “bail-out” for a turn on the swings. However there was one game that did not limit the player to a specific area; marbles.
Marbles could be purchased at any local store that had a toy section. I had personally begged my mother to buy me a bag so that I could play during the recess at school. My parents did not drink, so the coveted Crown Royal bag to carry your marbles that I had was gained by a series of underground deals. Inside of my bag was my bounty of marbles that I had won from the other kids in class. Each marble had its own story and magical property. I had fiery red “bird cages”, “bird’s eyes”, mirror finish blue and green ones, and even a few “steelies”. But my most prized possession was my bright red Tiger’s eye. It was a “beaut”! I had won it from a kid just a few weeks earlier and I distinctly remember the joyous sound of that final “clack” sound my marble made as it hit my opponent’s on the final blow of our game.
Rules applied to our game. It was simple really, the two opponents threw their marbles in opposite directions and then each progressively threw theirs closer to the other until one hit another. Whoever hit first was declared the winner. We played for “keepsies” or practice. Keepsies meant that the winner kept the loser’s marble. It was a gamble sometimes to play this way, especially if the marble played was a favorite.
This particular day I was up against Mark. Mark’s dad was a mechanic and had given his son one of the biggest heaviest steel ball bearings any of us had seen. It was “ginormous”, a steel ball of death, weighing in at least 5 lbs, and as silver as the shiny quarter in my pocket! I wanted that marble, although, technically it wasn’t a marble. Everyone wanted that marble. But It was me that Mark had chosen to play that day on the playground. Mark, being the challenger, had the right to look at my bag and choose the marble I played with. As chance would have it, he chose the “Tiger’s Eye”. My heart jumped, and shivers crept up my back. What if I win? That monstrous ball of glory could be mine! But if I lose, then my most prized possession is gone, up for grabs in future maybe. Mark, with his freckly cheeks and red hair stood there smiling at me as I contemplated my decision to play or not.
The game was on. We each threw our marbles in opposite directions hoping for the best cover possible. My Tiger landed in the tall grass while his made a loud “thump” in the sand near the igloo shaped jungle gym. I picked my marble up and strategically threw it into the sand on a high mound knowing that I didn’t want to land in a low spot for fear that gravity would help him win. Mark threw his closer to mine but it landed near the swing set frame; adequate protection. I picked up my marble and chose to throw closer to the steelie hoping to draw Mark closer so I might have a shot at his prize. My tactic worked, Mark picked up his small bowling ball and aimed for my pea sized target of a marble.
It was a battle. His might against my strategy. In the final phase it was my marble a few inches from his large steel ball. I had chosen to deliver my final blow by “cherry drops” which entitle me to pick up my marble and drop it straight down from the height of my hip. The playground grew silent as I took aim, raised my hand with marble pinched between finger and thumb. With one eye closed and peering over my right hip I focused on Mark’s large target at my feet. I released the marble. A small “tick” was barely audible as my glass ball of red stripes smacked the top of his mirror finished ball bearing. A smile grew across my face as I looked up and saw Mark’s jaw drop. Victory was mine!