Show Me the Place, 19

“Show me the place.”

Duke Senior in As You Like It (2.1)

19: Playgrounds, 1950–62

My Oklahoma playground? Red.

And dirt. And rocks. And so much fun.

I hoped recess would not be done—

But it was short, and hope soon dead.

Unless blood flowed (it sometimes did),

The teachers just ignored the “play.”

They stood and stared—yes, every day—

And sometimes saved a pummeled kid.

Each day I trudged back to my class—

Just dripping sweat and purest joy.

I was a very happy boy—

But happiness would quickly pass

As class commenced, and silence reigned.

The clock slowed down; the teachers droned.

And happiness was then postponed

While predicates I heard explained.

In Amarillo—monkey bars!

Our wars* upon them during lunch.

And I defeated quite a bunch

Of kids. I was among the stars—

Until I lost and quit the stupid game.

And pouted ’round—and sulked a bit—

Until I soon grew tired of it—

Returned to playing—not the same.**

In Hiram, lots of grass and turf.

And throwing balls (and sometimes rocks—

And sometimes taking painful knocks)—

Sometimes a lord, sometimes a serf.

Those boyhood playgrounds were for me

A place to melt, a place to thaw—

My own luxurious Shangri-la

Where I enjoyed such ecstasy!

*We would take turns swinging out, hand over hand, to the center, where our opponent awaited. We would try to wrap our legs around him/her, and pull the loser DOWN!

**Because I started losing more.