OCR Text |
Show Family Weekly/ May 11, 1969 Lessons My Mother Taught Me Mother's Day inspires this noted author—and probably . all of us—to recall what welearnedin our early years, whether weliked the teaching methods or not : : By STERLING NORTH Author of “Rascal,” "Racoons Are the Brightest People,” and “The WolRing,” to be published in August GAME OF MARBLES was in noisy, hap- py progress in the shade of a widespreading oak tree in my boyhood town of Edgerton, Wis. Nine or 10 of us were rolling mibs at a beautiful target some 15 feet farther down the sidewalk. The prize at which we were shooting was a large glass marble with a spiral of varicolored stripes which circled in graceful fashion within this solid crystal globe. The boy who owned this glassie sat with legs spread wide and chanted, “Everybody rolls and nobody hits it! Everybody rolls and nobody hits it!” It was not easy, with our slightly irregular earthenware marbles,to hit this relatively small target at such a distance. But the odds were not unfair. Everybody knew that one glassie was worth 25 mibs. 1 was very young and new at the game, but “Have you been playing marbles, Sterling ?” my mother asked sternly. into the area between my legs, while I took up the ancient chant, “Everybody rolls and nobody hits it! Everybody rolls and nobody hits it! Everybody rolls. . .” There went my beautiful glassie. ButI, too, was satisfied. 1 had many, many marbles to put in my pouch. It was perfectly fair to quit once you hadlost your glassie. Besides I had a distinct feeling of guilt. I was supposed to play “for fun” and never “for keeps.” How would I explain my bulging pouch of marbles to my mother? The rules were well defined around our pleasant and comfortable household in that peaceful spring of 1911. First came the “Thou shalt nots” of the Ten Commandments. Beyond these loomed other restrictions. My mother believed that gambling was a major social evil. “If you start playing marbles for ‘keeps,’ you will soon be pitching pennies,” she predicted in her gentle but earnest voice. “Next you will be playing pool for dimes and quarters.” I saw her point, but it all sounded rather ex- suddenly to my delight and surprise I hit the target marble which now, of course, became mine. The boy who hadlost his glassie picked up all the mibs between his legs. He was well satisfied with the handsful that he scooped into his leather bag. With great excitement I took the place of the citing. former gambler, spread my legs wide, and put in washing.” mylovely prize at risk. The mibs came cascading "4 Family Weekly, May 11, 1969 “Finally you'll end up playing cards for money and betting on the horses out at the Irish Picnic Grounds. And your poor wife will have to take Therelived on the other side of the tracks just enough forlorn washerwomen with irresponsible husbands to make the point quite vivid. But at the age of five, my horrible fate seemed rather remote. WhatI did not know at that time was that my father was an avid speculator, which in mother’s eyes meant a gambler. To my knowledge, he neverrolled a pair of dice, played poker, or bet on the horses, but he thoroughly indulged himself in buying and selling real estate, which was usually deeply mortgaged. I spread my legs wide and put my lovely prize at risk. |