day 45 | ‘losing my dad’s marble’

1971. Davis, CA.

my dad had a wooden tray on his dresser where he kept his wallet, keys and
change. there were little compartments with fingernail clippers, paperclips,
matches. i liked looking at his things. one day i noticed a marble i hadn’t seen
before

it looked different than any of the marbles i had. a creamy white with pale watery
swirls in orange, green, yellow, blue. it was beautiful
it was medium size – about as round as a quarter
i really wanted it, so i put it in my pocket. i wasn’t stealing it, i just wanted to
have it for a while

our school had a great yard for marbles. a huge grass area with long boundary
lines burned into the lawn for football. the lines were like trenches that you could
roll your marbles in. if you were far enough from your opponent you’d risk putting
your marble in the trench; it would give them a good shot at you, since the marbles
tended to stay in the trench when you rolled them, but if they missed you’d be set
up for an easy shot

one day after school i was playing marbles with paul brooks. he was in sixth
grade, i was in fifth. i don’t know what i was thinking, if i was down to my last
marble, but i played the marble that i got off my dad’s dresser. and i lost.
as soon as they clicked i felt sick. what i would have traded to get it back.