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Boo radley moment

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Late yesterday afternoon—a mid-April throwback Monday squeezed in before the Sonoran heat arrives in full force—I met John and Len, my full-time, sixty-something friends and part-time Polynesian Paradise neighbors, at the north edge of our community. We played horseshoes. Two sandy, part-sun-part-shade horseshoe pits spaced about fifty feet apart have existed in our condo complex since the early s. Inresidents and guests seldom use them. The primitive, low-stress gaming experience was just my speed: slow, nostalgic and gentlemanly. It was a light-hearted, jovial hour of tossing, joking, clinking, mo,ent, boo radley moment male bonding. By the way, John won on Monday.

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He came from behind with a boo radley moment ringer. Len and I will survive. We will live to throw horseshoes another day. What follows are excerpts. The dadley Babler State Park and the rolling rural countryside thirty miles west of St. Louis in October While the men were throwing horseshoes that day, I discovered a primitive-and-glassy nirvana: marbles. Clink clank clink. It was the sound of metal on metal.

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The men in our family—Dad, Uncle Ralph and Uncle Harry—were hammering stakes into two http://rectoria.unal.edu.co/uploads/tx_felogin/i-want-to-cushion-the-shock-of/marixa-lasso.php pits about fifty feet apart. Within minutes, they were tossing the U-shaped irons from one momennt to the other, hoping to catch the right angle and rack up a ringer …. On this particular occasion, while the women in our family unfurled the tablecloth and unpacked the meat for grilling, and the men settled into their game and passed cold bottles of Falstaff between throws, I wandered down a path to investigate the picnic area.

boo radley moment

In my visual memory, this was a To Kill a Mockingbird moment. In hindsight, I suppose Boo had nothing to do with my glassy discovery. Another child had simply and accidentally lost his or her marbles. They were lost in an unassigned gaming galaxy.

boo radley moment

But in the universe of fair play, it was Finders Keepers. This treasure was mine …. When Boo radley moment pulled Dad away from his pitching and showed him what I had found, his smiled doubled instantly. It felt like we had discovered a whole new language mined from an archeological dig … In a flash, Dad and my uncles suspended their horseshoe tossing, reverted to their boo radley moment, and surrounded me with explanations and names for the different marbles—many of them laced with swirls of colorful strands ….

Marbles became my forever home of circular undisrupted creative possibilities. After our picnic was over and the sun began to set, we snuffed out the campfire, folded up the red gingham tablecloth, and packed away our picnic basket. I stepped up into the back seat of our Plymouth with my new marbles in tow. Over the coming weeks and months, Dad pitched more horseshoes at the farm of Ed and Ollie Puetz near Gray Summit, Missouri, where we picnicked with family and friends and I watched learn more here men drink another round of brews and play the game they loved.

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All of my marbles became a creative extension of me. I played my instant-game-in-a-bag any time and any place—mostly at home on our basement floor on ordinary rainy days after kindergarten. Skip to content Late yesterday afternoon—a mid-April throwback Monday squeezed in before momemt Sonoran heat arrives in full force—I met John and Len, my full-time, sixty-something friends and part-time Polynesian Paradise neighbors, at the north edge of our community.

Within minutes, they were tossing the U-shaped irons from one end to the other, hoping to catch the click here angle and rack up a ringer … On this particular occasion, while the women in our family unfurled the tablecloth and boo radley moment the meat for grilling, and the men settled into their game and passed cold bottles of Falstaff between throws, I wandered down a path to investigate the boo radley moment area.]

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