Today, my father would have been 62 years old. Unfortunately, he passed almost ten years ago on July 3, one day before one of his favorite barbequeing days. I know that he watched over us and saw no wrong in our having a big BBQ on July 4 to celebrate his life. I miss you Dad and I wish I could've been there to say goodbye. Rest in peace. I know you're watching.
What was your favorite game to play at recess in grade school?
Submitted by Elisheva Chana.
Ahh, recess. That special time of day when, right after lunch, we were encouraged to go run around like maniacs. I swear it's a miracle in and of itself that no one ever got sick, but I digress.
Back in the day, we played a game called Release. I suppose it's just like Tag. One person is "it" and tries to go around tagging people. If you got tagged, you went to the "jail", which was a huge tree. I honestly don't remember how you got to be "not it" anymore, but if someone who wasn't "it" got to the tree without getting tagged, he or she would scream "RELEASE!" at the top of his/her lungs and everyone in jail got to go run around some more.
At this moment, I stand about five foot one and weigh in at about 125 or so. Then, I'm sure I was no more than four foot seven and nowhere near 100 pounds. I was small for my age, but boy was I quick. One particular afternoon during a rousing game of Release, I was running for the jail to release my buddies. I suppose that I turned my head for a second to see if anyone was on my tail. That split second caused me over a week of pain. As I turned to look forward, directly in front of me, also not looking and running hard, was Christine Patterson. Where I was small for my age, Christine was equally as tall for her age. This is fifth grade I'm talking about here and the girl was already pushing 6 feet. There wasn't enough time for either of us to stop or change direction and he result was a head-on collision.
Christine got off easy with the knee of her jeans ripped. I, on the other hand, ended up with a bruised kneecap. Don't think for a moment that a child doesn't know the meaning of excruciating pain, because I did. For the rest of that day (and that week), I walked around with one leg straight because it hurt so bad to bend it. The one time it was FORCED to bend was the day it happened on the bus ride home. Our principal got on every bus to make sure everyone was okay. My seatmate didn't understand what happened and thought I was just being a baby and took it upon herself to force my leg into a bent position. I'm pretty sure I almost passed out. I made it home though, and good ole Gram fixed it up for me.
Endnote: No Release! for me for a little while after the incident.