Red Rover, Red Rover

Happy Fourth of July to one and all and I hope your celebrations were safe, enjoyable and somewhat legal. I, for one, spent my fourth with several other families and their multitudes of children. It was safe and enjoyable, and tragically legal, but it was also frantic and loud and distracting and I now remember why I only have one child.

After four days of camping together (in air conditioned, multi-televisioned motor homes with microwaves, refrigerators and running water do you think I’m insane no way I’m leaving my house to go sleep in the dirt), somebody (me) had the bright idea that at the conclusion of the camping trip, the 4th of July, they should all come over to my house in order to clean out the refrigerators in our motor homes and get rid of the left overs. By this time, the kids, ranging in ages from 2 to 9, had just about had enough of each other, were exhausted, and my daughter in particular, went into solitary mode and wanted nothing to do with anyone. She's her mother's guts sometimes. But eventually, we cleaned up dinner, grabbed some chairs and blankets and headed the few blocks down to the park to get a good spot for the fireworks.

My town, while growing and much larger than I ever imagined it would be, still, on occasion, has that home-town gomery, Mayberry feel to it, and Independence Day is one of those days where everybody comes out, spends the day at the park playing games, throwing Frisbees, listening to the bands and standing in line for home made ice cream. In the evening, everybody settles in with their coolers and picnic baskets on blankets for the fireworks and we got there in plenty of time to grab up some prime real estate close enough to see, but still some distance from the bulk of the crowd. It was still light and the kids were getting restless, so the five of them old enough to do so started a game of tag that eventually developed into the black hole that most children's games become and attracted other children from all around us. Growing bored with that, the self-designated social coordinator known as my kid organized a game of Red Rover. Remember that game? Where the kids divide into two teams, lock arms and dare someone from the other team to get up a big enough head of steam to break through a set of locked arms? Yeah, that game. It would have been just an ordinary kid's game had it stayed a kid's game, which it didn't, and that’s where it got funny as hell.

Most of the families around us were watching the game since most of their kids were involved in it and just as it was getting a little boring, I heard a male voice behind me announce "OK, you've had enough time to warm up. Let's do this thing." Yup. One of the men from our group was strutting across the grass, leading the other two (one of whom was my husband) into the Red Rover fray.

Did I tell you about Doc? No? Lemme tell you about our friend Doc. He is the father of three, a law enforcement officer, completely wonderful, and a totally terrifying sight to behold. He is about 6' 10" inches tall, unabashedly bald, and completely enormous. He was wearing the biggest white T-shirt you ever saw and by God he was gonna play Red Rover with a bunch of little humans that looked like scampering puppies next to him.

They all lined up. They locked arms. Big, little, little, little, friggin HUGE, little, little and I heard a young voice, full of impish glee, bellow "RED ROVER RED ROVER WE DARE DOC TO COME OVER!!!!" My kid really needs to learn her limitations.

And the earth shook and here came Doc. It looked like a snow covered mountain had gone into motion and was slowly picking up speed as it rolled across the grass. Every single adult head turned. Those who had been relaxing suddenly were sitting up. Every little young arm tensed around the other young arm firmly in it's grip and little knees bent to improve balance and heads dipped and here came Doc. Every single kid in that line screamed with fear, excitement and glee but nobody let go. They hung on for dear life and here came Doc. All of him. And God bless than big bear of a man's soul, because as he hit the line of children, he threw up his hands in a mock display of hitting the wall, staggered back, tipped to one side, tipped to the other and, arms flailing, collapsed under the weight of 10 small children attempting to tackle him anywhere above his knees.

As they fell into a pile, the kids from the other side decided that it was more fun being on the other team and THEY piled on and eventually Doc clambered to his feet with about half a dozen children hanging off him like the world's filthiest animated Christmas tree ornaments and the entire section of the park watching this display burst into cheering appreciation. Not a few mothers breathed a hugh sigh of relief at the sight of their child having landed on TOP of the pile as opposed to UNDER the pile.

Doc stood tall, took a bow, shook off the flock of kids, grabbed a couple of hands, turned and rumbled "Red Rover, Red Rover, I DARE (insert my 5’8” tall husband’s name right friggin here) to come over."

I thanked God our wills were in place, the insurance was paid, and then turned to see the first explosion of color as it lit up the night sky.

Happy Independence Day.