Freedom to Play: We Made Our Own Fun

ALONE BUT NOT LONELY

ALONE BUT NOT LONELY Marilyn Diane Duncanson Barker grew up on the family farm near London, Ontario. Even when I became old enough to go to school, there were no other children living on the farms in the mile between our house and the one-room school. It therefore will become apparent that I spent much time alone, or with my parents, grandparents, or my all-knowing responsive dog, Rover, who would run and jump with me, roll over, or do whatever was commanded. I remember throwing a rubber ball against our two storey brick house and seeing how high I could throw against the wall and how far back I could stand and still catch the ball. When I got a wagon, I had to learn to kneel on the wagon with one knee and to push with the other foot while I steered. Learning to ride my new blue bicycle with balloon tires was frustrating until I got the knack of balancing , for it required an adult to run behind steadying me as I rode. I remember humming and singing a lot just to hear a voice and even talking aloud as I imagined elaborate stories happening as I watched the ever-changing patterns in the clouds. I had the usual little-girl playthings such as dolls and a doll carriage. How I loved a new colouring book, new pencils, and a box of eight new crayons! I loved nursery rhymes, Mother Goose stories, etc., but I wasn’t satisfied until I could decipher the words for myself. That same determination led me to plead with and pester my mother until she shared her talents with me—sewing, knitting, crocheting , and embroidery work. When my Aunt Kay, a high school Latin and French teacher, visited for holidays, she allowed me to play dress-up with her wonderful array of clothes and shoes. My mastery of French phrases grew and grew as the years went by also. Another school teacher aunt taught me the art of scrapbooking by theme at an early age. I remember Life magazine being a favourite source of pictures that I could clip and glue once my aunt had mixed me some flour and water paste. I liked to visit my other set of grandparents because they had a swing set, and it was at their house that I learned to pump by myself. After I started school, I spent endless hours at home copying my notebooks, trying to produce beautiful writing and illustratCreating Their Own Equipment 155 ing pages where appropriate. We had Mission Band and Junior Red Cross meetings once a month and with one of these organizations came a children’s magazine. I longed for the next issue so I could find a new pen pal in some far away place. Many hours were spent at home writing letters on airmail paper. At school I learned skipping rhymes, how to play hopscotch, dodge ball, Simon says, Red light-green light, frozen tag, and regular tag, and to blow the ripened dandelion heads to scatter the seeds, and to pick wild daisy petals from the flowers as I recited, “He loves me, he loves me not.” Our teacher put together fine Christmas concerts for which we rehearsed our lines weeks in advance. We took great pride in our final performance. She taught us to square dance and to perform musical drills. She arranged for whole skating afternoons on a farmer’s pond where all forty of us would skate till our toes stung from the cold. Choosing sides for baseball games was fun because every single person got to be on a team regardless of size or skill. Spelling bees were my favourite team sport because I found that at a very early age I could spell better than the big grade eight boys. I loved the new books that came with the travelling library. Someone, probably an older student, taught me how to make origami creations. My parents organized much of my socializing. Ballet, tap and highland dancing, baton twirling, piano and organ lessons led me to all kinds of associations with people: sleepovers with giggling, participation in community garden parties, and school shows. I have a photo to prove my part in a 150th church anniversary in our Scottish community. A local playwright wrote a humorous historical play in which I danced the Highland Fling. My first experience horse-back riding occurred at the farm of one of my dancing friends...