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My older
brother used to collect marbles (circa 1960’s), using his hard-earned allowance
to buy more. When I was at the very young age of four or five, I remember how he
would show me some of his most-prized marbles . . . delicately taking them out
of a velvet bag as if they were precious gems. Large ones, small ones, every
color of the rainbow . . . even “Cat’s Eyes” which I found fascinating but
spooky. I would LOVE it when he would just pour the whole bag onto his bedspread
. . . resembling a rolling rainbow of color! We would make up games, like
“School,” “Cowboys,” or “Store,” and the marbles took on human characteristics
as our stories unfolded. If one marble rolled onto the floor, it seemed the rest
of them would follow, water-falling off the bed . . . and soon we’d both be
running after and corralling the marbles.
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