Written
one summer years ago by my nieces and nephew.
1)
Go out the exit.
2)
Go in the entrance
3)
Be quiet when the President is talking
4)
Do not sneak off
5)
Go to each meeting
6)
Don’t trash the club
7)
Do what ever the boss says to do
8)
Be quiet when the boss is talking, OK!
I live in the center of a southern University town
and my very large back yard backs up to a small creek which has ambled through
this city for a hundred years or more and is now used for rain drainage. Like any creek bank in the south, my land
is mostly sand and oak trees with old camellias, azaleas, dogwood and magnolias
planted long before I was here. My
nieces and nephews used this yard to fight dragons, lead wagon trains to
California and points west, fight pirates coming down the creek at night with
only fireflies to light their way, and take turns swinging for hours on the old
tire swing held by Bill, the mighty Chinquapin Oak’s, lowest limb. There is a climbing tree which has been
known to house more than three kids at a time, there is a section of the patio
under the gazebo called, ‘the dangerous place where angry old people in wheel
chairs will jump out and chase little kids with a stick’, and there is a
section in the back corner of the fence down by the creek under ancient
over-grown gardenia bushes, called the ‘club house’. This was the favorite place to be once all
the other adventures of the day were over.
Snacks were served at this time, many times popcorn or marshmallows and
on good days, a dill pickle wrapped in paper towel and always tin glasses of water
from the hose.
The kids would rake leaves into paths going in and
coming out of the overgrown haven of the club house. Thus Rule #1 and Rule #2.
Sitting on my porch I could hear the squeals of
delight when all were in agreement and the cries of anger and aguish when
disagreements occurred. It was usually pretty noisy at one of their meetings. Rule
#3.
When this anguish would persist the youngest would
throw the lower lip out of joint, leave the meeting in defiance and come to the
porch. Rule #4.
When a meeting was called, all in the yard had to
comply. Rule #5.
When a marshmallow or popcorn war ensued, you
could count on Rule #6.
The loudest niece was always chosen or voted
herself in as president or ‘boss’. Rule
#7.
Since the gang wasn’t always happy about this
choice of ‘boss’, the boss had to make Rule #8.
The ‘OK’ on the last rule was a compromise the
boss made when I suggested she not be so ‘bossy’. I told her to ask nicely.
These little hand written, badly spelled rules are
the dearest thing to me, but if you look closely you will see they are
universal.
The kids now grown into young adults still talk
about the ‘Club House’. It hasn’t
changed, there are still ropes hanging from branches, old plastic child garden
chairs buried in the leaves and an occasional string of mardi gras beads left
from a parade of small kids with wagons full of stuffed animals and dolls
marching to the music of a badly played harmonica.
I say to my friends who are just becoming parents
or grandparents. You have ten
years. The first two are baby years, and
after twelve, the kids are smarter than you and are toooo sophisticated to be
fun anymore. That leaves three to eleven
for kids to be the greatest gift this world knows. I hope you all have a climbing tree in your
backyard and maybe a club house.
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