Wandering through an antique store recently, on a shelf of jars one caught me eye. It was about four inches tall and at the bottom were a handful of jacks and red rubber ball. It was odd- jacks in a jar. But it brought a smile to my face as I thought about all the time I spent playing jacks on the basement floor as a child. I was meticulous about following my own self-imposed rules of play. Maybe there were “real” rules but knowing me and my penchant for following a strict routine when it came to certain things- jacks, piano practice, coloring, etc, it was probably all me. I would start with onesies and if I successfully picked up all the “one” jacks between each ball bounce, I would move on to twosies, picking up all the pairs and so forth. And if I missed, I had to go back to onesies and start the process again.
I don’t know if it helped me improve my jacks playing skills but it definitely kept me occupied. I still have my original jacks and balls in the fabric drawstring bag I kept them in. Writing about this makes me want to dig them out and try my hand at jacks once again. I can just picture the look on my son’s face if he came upon me sitting on the floor, pushing dogs away while I frantically bounced a ball and scrambled to pick up ….. would he even know what they are?
Ah, the good old days. But getting back to the jar of jacks in the shop- I have to wonder at the unique display decision. And also, what was it priced? Hmmm
Happy Sunday!
-Kat
Dandelion Fuzz 