Saturday, May 9, 2009

Is there a Dog?

This morning, as MY BEST AND ONLY DOG was walking me, I was adrift in philosophical musings...why am I here, what is my purpose, is there a god... when all of a sudden this thought occurred to me: Hey, is that speargrass? There, in that clump of weeds, is that SPEARGRASS? Then, bam, it is back to the 60's, to the house on University and the vacant lot catty-corner across the alley. The lot with the overgrown weeds, field of speargrass, army of chiggers and that lone, sorry-looking mulberry tree. It is the 60's, and today Oxey and I are at war with the Lanhams. They may have more bodies but we have more death-before-dishonor ATTITUDE. We gather our spears, careful to keep the pointy, sticky little ends in tact and sneak out of the lot to find Lanhams. And I am savoring the moment when I can let fly with a group of spears, their pointy, sticky little ends covered with spit. Oh, joy! There's a Lanham...he's running and I'm chasing...I'm getting closer (how can this be? I am no doubt the slowest white girl in the history of ever) and now...now... NOW! Off the little spears go, their pointy, sticky little ends hitting the Lanham in the right shoulder, hanging there as he flees, yelping from their sting. Oh bliss! But still, he isn't fast enough and I could get in another shot if only I had more spears. Where is Oxey? He could take the shot. Then he appears...a little kid, no shirt, no shoes, tanned skin, blond burr, running full blast... with a handful of ...RIPE JUICY MULBERRIES! And he's got the Lanham in his sights, and he is there and he lets loose with the ripest, juiciest of those berries and ...nothing less than PURE PERFECTION. A perfect, purple hit on the Lanham's pristine white t-shirt. We smile. Victory is sooooooo sweet. Meanwhile, the Lanham has lost again, and is left only with his perfect, impermeable stain of defeat.

You may ask yourself what this has to do with sports. The answer is that WE LIKE TO PLAY. We like to throw stuff and hit targets with balls ( or speargrass or mulberries or pecans). We find it exhilarating. And it is just fun. So we like sports.

P.S. I can't seem to stop myself. Someone else better post soon or we will have to rename this middleagedwhitewomansselfindulgentblog.

5 comments:

  1. Ahhhh....those were the days. I can't remember playing sports that my brother and I had made up to fill the time. Usually, hybrids of the sports we already knew. Bicycle polo was always fun and good for a few skinned up knees. No cares in the world. Back when a mom could tell the kids to just be home before it was dark and they didn't have to worry.....much. I think Izzie, Jack, and Sophie have some good times ahead of them!

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  3. I do not remember this game, but it lives in my memory because Tico and Dad always talked about it as the greatest game ever.

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  4. The great thing about speargrass is that it hurt to get hit. You would bleed a little. Preparing the spears was also a key. You had yank a clump, then stick the spear end into your mouth and carefully draw them out through puckered lips. They would puff up and fly better. There were also cockleburrs in that field, but our feet were so thickly calloused that they were only a nuisance not a deterrent.

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  5. As opposed to being in El Paso where the burrs are just short of landmines.

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