Dear Reader,
There are only two weeks left to submit your entry for this year's Write a DearReader Contest.
Need some inspiration?
Read Cynthia R. Temple's winning column from 2016...
Let me tell you about my childhood. I don't share this because I think my childhood was extraordinary. I'm sure there are many who experienced the joy and wonder of being a kid. I share this because when I describe my childhood, the first words that come to mind are "well played."
My sister and I were expert players. Please don't think I'm referring to organized sports. Neither of us was particularly athletic. We were players of the highly creative variety. I would have to say, the prep for these "games" took just as much time as the actual play.
Playing "Library," for example, required us to remove all of the books from my mother's bookshelf. We inserted a card (usually a playing card) into each book, so it would be ready for check-out. Checking out would be done by shining the gooseneck lamp on my desk down on the book, and turning it off and on. Though real-life libraries of that day still used stamping for checkouts, our imaginary library had progressed to photocopying. Did I mention we were also visionaries?
The next heavy-prep job was playing clothing store. Of course, we had to take the clothes from our closet and attach tags, and put them back in the closet which doubled as a changing room for our invisible customers. A manual typewriter with the keys jammed together provided the perfect sound of a ticking cash register.
I should tell you about our attire. My mother was and is a small woman, so we rarely clomped around in her heels because they nearly fit us. We were content instead to wear her old purses stuffed with tissues and of course our extremely long hair. To accomplish the "hair" we put tights--the little girls' equivalent of stockings--on our heads and styled them in very attractive "dos." There was the beautiful, long twisted braid, which hung daintily over one shoulder or the lovely French bun which was held with bobby pins and imagination. I don't know how my mother kept a straight face when she saw us "ladies."
We had other games like "Restaurant"--which was only open when my mother was away, as it required the kitchen, living room and dining room, and closed suddenly, the moment we saw her car pull up. We tried "Beauty Shop," but that game was short-lived, once we had given enough of our doll customers disfiguring haircuts. We played "Movies" which was achieved, easily enough by watching TV in the dark. In the early years, before we could make popcorn, we settled for wrapping round crackers in aluminum foil to resemble a certain chocolate, peppermint filled treat. It was not nearly as delicious as we pretended. The imagination can stretch but so far.
My mother inspired our favorite game--Teachers. She was a teacher and we loved the profession. She bought us a large blackboard which fit snugly into an alcove in our room. A chalk line down the middle and it became two classrooms, occupied by the invisible students who attended on our beds. We had complete written rolls, which we called daily. We had posters, lesson plans and worksheets. At lunchtime, the dining room became the cafeteria and we ate with our classes, though we had to repeatedly jump up and turn off the lights, scolding that," I can't even hear what Mrs. Paige is saying!" When my mother insisted we go outside and get some air, you guessed it. Recess! I can't remember whether we removed the tights first.
I don't suggest that we were unique. I'm sure some of you drove living-room-sofa station wagons with vinyl record albums for steering wheels. You probably also fitted bobby pins on your earlobes to make dangling earrings, or made attractive jewelry out of aluminum foil.
I not only salute you, but to you all, I say..."Well played."
You could be this year's winner, but you have to enter to win. Cash prizes, rules and deadlines, and last year's winning entries, read all about it here.
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
I'm looking forward to reading your entry,
Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
This month's Penguin Classics book is PENGUIN BOOK OF MIGRATION IN LITERATURE: DEPARTURES, ARRIVALS, GENERATIONS, RETURNS, edited by Dohra Ahmad. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading today and enter for your chance to win.
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