Red Rover

07 Red Rover third edit 2/29 10:45 AM

I shuffled along, like I always do now. I like the word shuffle. It matches. With my feet problems, I half-shuffle and half-waddle, actually. It must look odd to people. But I'm not alone. I've seen other old people do it too. One reason we do it is a fear of falling. When I was a kid, we fell all the time. Off of our bikes, off Tarzan swings, off swing sets... we didn't care. Kids are more resilient. They sort of bounce. Old people break.

As I made my way down Lea Avenue, I looked around. Where did all the kids go? Are they inside playing video games? You idiot, Gibson. There were no video games in 1958. If it is 1958 When we stayed inside, we played with toys or watched TV. But mostly we wanted to be outside. Unless it was raining.

A kid came riding by on his bicycle. I waved to him. He waved back. Then he stopped.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I answered. “It sure is quiet around here. Where is everybody?”

“Well, it depends on who you mean. I don't think I know you.”

“Um... my name is... Mr. Ford,” I interjected. “Harrison Ford.”

“I'm Russell. Are you from around here?” Russell asked.

“Well, I used... I mean, sort of. I live in the village.”

“Oh. I live over there,” said Russell as he turned and pointed.

“The Chumley's house,” I said.

“Yeah. How did you know? Do I know you?” said Russell as he looked at me suspiciously.

“No.”

But I knew him. Russell was my next door neighbor from 1955 to 1965 when my folks moved about a mile away on Middletown Road. Russell and I were best of friends.

“Well, it is about 4:30 or so,” said Russell Chumley. “The Old Skipper is on.”

“The Old Skipper?” I asked.

“You know. The old Skipper. A sea captain on Channel 10. He shows Popeye cartoons and the Three Stooges. I started watching the Three Stooges but they had Shemp on. I don't like Shemp. I like Curly.”

“Ah, right,” I answered. “Me too.”

“A lot of kids go home now for dinner,” Russell went on. “Then after dinner they come out to play until dark. My dad is an electrician and he goes to work real early and gets home around 3. So I eat early, and then I watch the Old Skipper and then I come out to play.”

“I see,” I replied. “Thanks. I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” he asked.

“Nothing. Hey, Russell,” I continued. “Can you tell me the date?”

“Sure. I saw it on the newspaper. It's June 27.”

“Can you tell me what year it is?”

“You don't know what year it is?” asked Russell, quite shocked.

“Old age, Russ,” I said. “I don't work anymore and so I forget things.”

“Oh. Well, it's 1958. Friday if you forgot that.”

“Thank you. Are you on summer vacation?”

“Yup. Just started,” Russell said with a smile. “I really like summer vacation.”

“I remember them well,” I said.

“Well, I gotta see if anyone else is out yet,” said Russell.

“OK. Maybe I'll see you around,” I said.

“I'm not leaving,” said Russell. He cupped both hands around his mouth like a megaphone and yelled “YO-OH! YO-OH!”

Faintly, but not too far away, came an answer yo-oh. A few kids on bikes came down the hill toward us. They stopped and stared at me.

“Hi,” they said almost in unison.

“This is Harrison Ford,” said Russell. “He lives in the village.”

“Hi. My name is Paul. This is Pete and Bob Naise and Bob Van.”

“Well, I'm pleased to meet you all,” I said.

More kids came over, walking.

“Hi,” said Russell. “This is Mr. Ford. He lives in the village. These are the Bombards, Mr. Ford. Tom, Mary, and Ann.”

Tom approached, while Mary and Ann stood close behind him.

“Hi,” said Tom. “Are you visiting somebody? I haven't seen you here before.”

“No. I'm just out for a walk and here I am,” I answered.

“That's a long walk for an old man with a cane,” said Tom.

Kids, I thought. No filter between their brains and their mouths. Art Linkletter said in one of his books that the only two kinds of people who will always tell it like it is are small children and old people.

“Yeah it is a long way,” I said. “About a mile.”

“What do you guys want to do?” asked Russ. “Wanna play spud?”

“We played that last night,” said Mary. “Let's play Red Rover.”

“I'd rather play spud,” said Tom

“You're bossy,” said Mary. “We always do what you want to do. We want to play Red Rover.”

She never said who “We” were.

All of the kids started talking at once. Spud. Red Rover. Spud. Red Rover. This is how we decided what we were going to do, I thought? It sounds like congress.

“OK, I'll decide,” said Bob Naise. “Red Rover.”

After a few more Spud-Red Rovers, it was settled. Red Rover it is.

“Who are going to be captains?” asked Russell. “I'll be one.”

“I'll be another,” said Pete. “OK, line up!”

Russell and Pete walked to the middle of the street and the kids lined up on Chumley's lawn. They took turns picking one by one until no one was left.

“Here come Dave,” said Tom. “He's always late because his dad doesn't get home until late.”

“Hey Gibson,” yelled Russ. “Hurry up! You're on my team. I'm short one.”

I looked at Dave. It was me. It was me eight years old. We stared at each other. For a few seconds.

“This is Harrison Ford,” said Russ. “He lives in the village and went for a walk and now he's here.”

“Hi,” said little me. “Is he playing Russ? He's old and has a cane.”

“No,” I interrupted. “I'd rather stand out of the way and watch.”

The kids lined up, one team on one side of Lea Avenue and one on the other. Russell stood in the middle of the road. Now, if I remember right, the captains took turns calling one of the other team's players to cross the road to the other side. If they got tagged, they joined that captain's team. If they made it without being tagged, they joined the other members of their team on the sidelines.

“Red Rover, Red Rover,” said Russell. “I dare ANN to come over!”

Ann Bombard, the smallest and youngest one there, bolted from her side of the street. She was quickly tagged by Russell. Ann and Russ went to their team's side of the street and Pete walked to the middle.

“Red Rover Red Rover, I dare MARY to come over!” Pete yelled.

Mary took off running as fast as she could, but Pete tagged her. Pete and Mary walked over to Pete's side of the street. This went on for some time. Russ' team got an advantage when Bob Naise was able to cross without getting tagged. Just as he was about to be, he twisted and spun away. Bob Van missed the tag, and before Pete got to him, Bob Naise was safely on the other side. Russ' team whooped.

Finally, after many rounds there was only the little me left on my team. Even Pete had gotten tagged. Dave stood there looking at the large group of kids to find a way to get through. There was no way. He would have to get across without somehow getting tagged by one of about ten kids now on Russ' team. If Dave somehow made it across untagged, he would stand in the street all alone and try to tag someone to build his team back up. Dave would be the new captain.

This had gone on for quite awhile and it was starting to get dark. We heard Mrs. Chumley holler out the door.

“Russey! Time to come in!” she yelled.

“In a minute mom!” yelled Russell back.

“Right now Russell!” yelled Mrs. Chumley.

“I'm coming! In a minute!”

“I said NOW Russell!” Mrs. Chumley went back inside.

“Red Rover Red Rover. I dare DAVE to come over!”

Even though the old me was the only one left, the rule was clear. You had to call the runner by name. Dave ran up and down the side of the street on Chumley's lawn, looking for an opening. He would run in one direction and then suddenly stop, turn and run the other way. He did this several times until he saw what he thought was his best chance. The slower runners were on the right and the faster on the left. He was running down the right side as fast as he could go and then quickly turned and started across the street. He only got maybe ten feet , if that, when he had four of the opposing team tag him at once. Game over.

“See ya tomorrow!” yelled Russ as he ran toward his back door.

“Wanna play again?” asked Bob Van.

“It's getting dark,” said Mary. “We have to go home.”

“No. Let's play again,” said Dave.

“But it's getting dark!” protested Mary.

It was soon over, and most kids decided to play again. While the teams were being picked, parents one by one shouted out their doors for their kids. And one by one they left for home. Even the little me. I was left alone.

Well, I guess I should go home too. When my mom called for Dave, something inside me wanted to go too.

My mom had passed away many years ago. It was hard to deal with. Something deep inside said “I have to go. My mom is calling!” but I knew I couldn't. Or shouldn't. I headed down Lea Avenue towards Middletown Road, shuffling along.

That was fun. See what kids today are missing? Fresh air, exercise, fun, and bonding. These are among the best memories you can have, and the longest lasting friendships. Now we're all old, but many of us that are still alive are at least Facebook friends and stay connected. A car pulled up just as I got to Lavedieure's house.

“Hi! Heading home?”

It was Richie.

“Hi Richie. What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I just left Denny O'Shaughnessy's house,” said Richie. “Want a ride?”

“OK,” I said. “You seem to show up at just the right time. All the kids went in.”

“Yup. The street lights are coming on,” said Richie.