CARRRR!!!

We were the last house before the cul de sac and our yard was part of its perimeter.

There were two other houses at the end of the neighborhood with us, one that was directly next-door and one on the opposite edge of the street that sort of rounded us all into a lopsided peace sign.

I remember this one time, when I was maybe ten or so, a group of kids from the street were playing "pickle" aka "rundown," a game mimicking the scenario in baseball where a runner's caught between bases. Then my neighbor's dad got home from work. He lived right next-door, with four kids, and three of them were old enough to play with us that day. As he drove up, the game paused after a collective "CARRR!!!" rang through the air. That meant time-out. So my three neighbors and I, plus the two boys from the house across the street, and a few more kids from the top of the hill by the main road, scattered to the edge of the cul de sac to get out of the way. As their dad passed through, he rolled down the window with a big grin and asked what game we were playing.

We told him and he nodded.

"Fun!" he said before disappearing down their driveway and into the garage, at which point we resumed play.

There were enough of us that we could have three bases. If the tennis ball touched you while you were running between them, you were "out" and became a thrower. Wild throws that required chase were common. Sometimes they'd land in the woods or bounce through one of the yards nearby, and that gave us plenty of time to run, walk, dance, and/or mock our way between bases. We'd taunt each other, boasting our ability to dodge the incoming green whumph of a ball to the leg or back.

Rebels; the lot of us.

I wasn't particularly close with our direct-neighbors, but I'll never forget when their dad re-emerged from their driveway, still wearing his tucked-in button-down shirt and dress shoes, and asked if he could play. I don't remember him being particularly athletic. In fact, I don't remember much about him at all. But I do remember he laughed a lot that day. I can still hear it. I remember he joined in and danced between the bases in his work clothes when a ball would go rolling into the woods. And, today, decades later, I find myself thinking of him and smiling.

I remember him.

It makes me hope I never forget that I can ask to play.

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Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
325/365

When's the last time you went out to play?

onward. 

For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.