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“I’ve got to get this place cleaned out,” I told myself as I crawled through the attic to retire the Christmas decorations for another
year. The children’s toys can go—even the grandchildren have grown up, but the box of board games…they can stay. Many memories are
tucked away in that box.
Monopoly
brought back a memory of a long ago summer when my brother and his friend kept a game going for days. If they ran out of money,
they borrowed from the bank. When the bank ran out of money, they borrowed from each other. Then there was
Clue, a game of mystery for a
girl who loved Nancy Drew books. And of course, there’s Scrabble.
The first time we visited my husband’s family in England, we were introduced to Scrabble. (My husband faithfully works crossword puzzles,
so this was his “cup of tea.”)
And finally, there was Aggravation.
When we, kids, moved out of our parent’s home, we’d still go back to enjoy a meal or an evening of togetherness. But after my parents
passed away, that contact was gone. As the eldest, I felt I had to do something to keep the connection alive and Aggravation was
the answer.
I prepared a meal and invited my sister Beverly and her husband, Carl, and my brother Rodney and his wife, Cindy, over for an evening of
Aggravation.
After the table was cleared off, out came the game of Aggravation. We took our places around the table and chose our favorite
colored marbles, with Beverly commenting how they reminded her of gumballs. I hoped she wouldn’t try it as I didn’t need an extra dental
bill. She reminded me so much of my father with her silly expressions.
With everybody ready to go, we shook our dice until someone got a one or a six and the game began.
As I moved my blue marbles around the board, I remembered Grandma and Mrs. Sabin playing Parcheesi years ago. No matter whose turn it
was, they both shook their dice in those little cardboard cups for all they were worth. Often we heard Mrs. Sabin mutter, “You done me
dirt.”
“Someone done me dirt” when I came back to reality because I was sent back to base. I planned my moves carefully to get back at that
scoundrel. I laughed until I cried. How aggravating it was to finally have three men safe, with one making its way around the board and
be sent back. Or to be so close to home when all I needed was a one or two on the dice and kept getting a five or six instead.
Yes, we missed our parents, but getting together once a month for a meal and a board game filled the void and kept us together as a
family. The laughter, the memories, and the tears were all apart of our healing and in the process, we started a new family tradition.
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About The Author:
Marion Tickner has been published in several children's magazines and websites. Her stories "Grandmas and Snowmen" and
"My Special Part" appear in the collection Mistletoe Madness,
edited by Miriam Hees. "Lost In The Cow Pasture" has been accepted for the next anthology, Summer Shorts, which is due out in June 2006.
* This article is available for your publication, for a F-E-E.
This article may NOT be reprinted without monetary compensation and written permission from the author.
For reprint rights or comments/questions about this article, please contact the author.
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