The Down Maker Crawled Away!

Story #3: Fall 1957

We siblings came in sets of two. Two oldest are two years apart, then a four year gap. Two more arrive, though not twins they share the same age for two weeks. Then a three year gap followed by myself and the baby brother. There were six children altogether, five boys and a girl. We lived on an acre of land, surrounded by 94 acres of woods. Our house was very small by today’s standards. There were 3 bedrooms and one bath. The boys were all in one bed room stacked in bunk beds and a roll-away. My tiny room doubled as the guest room, or ubiquitous extra person in the house room. There was always an extra person in the house.

Being in such cramped quarters, we siblings spent most of our time outdoors. The one acre yard sloped away from the house down to the flatlands that wrapped around two sides of the house. The “backyard” and “side yard” were kickball courts and football fields more often than not.

One stunningly warm fall day, as is only found in Northern Virginia, a neighborhood game of football was assembled in the backyard. The trees and grasses had turned gold and amber. There was a crisp and cool breeze mixed with a hot sun. A feeling to this day that brings me peace and joy. It is my earliest memory, sitting in the warm sun, the cool breeze, and becoming the ball.

The oldest brothers were supposed to be watching almost one year old me. My little brother had not yet arrived on the scene. The neighborhood boys had gathered in our backyard for a game of football. I’m told, one of them was hunting for a rock big enough to be the down maker. The down maker had become a new feature in their game and was clearly a significant element. Finding no satisfactory rock the boy called out, “Hey, let’s use your sister!”

Some kid picked me up and plopped me at the 50 yard line. They got ready for kick off. They decided the boy closest to the baby was in charge of moving the down maker after each play. The game proceeded fairly well. I was picked up and moved several times.

At some point I must have gotten tired of this game. I crawled away. One of the boys yelled, “Hey the down marker is leaving.” I was crawling into the field of play. My oldest brother who had the ball at the time tucked it under his arm and swooped me up then proceeded to the goal line. His team cheered him as he held me up in the air, “touch down!”

“Hey, let’s use her as the ball and the ball as the down marker,” said the boy who started every sentence with “Hey.” All agreed to this knucklehead idea as a solid plan.

I was “hutted” like a ball then tucked into a tight hold and run up and down the field. I am told there was a collective agreement amongst the boys to not tackle the person carrying “the ball” but touch or tag was okay.

The game proceeded with the baby as the ball except for kick off and punting when I resumed my role as down maker. One play a kid forgot about the tackle rule and lurched at my brother holding me in a football carry. We all hit the ground. A booming voice from the porch called a halt to the entire game. Boys scattered like dry leaves as my father descended the slope to the flats. He lifted me from the remaining pile of kids and took me back to the house.

Many Thanksgivings later he confessed that he and mom had watched me become the down marker, and had a good laugh over the down maker crawling away. They were proud of how the kids negotiated a safety plan for when the baby became the ball. When fatigue and competition combined, it was no longer cute or safe. So dad intervened.

Hard to say how much is memory and how much is a story told every Thanksgiving for years on end about “The day the down maker crawled away.” But I am clear that a crystal blue October sky, the sun on my face and a cool breeze promising winter brings me great joy. As well as a deep knowing that I was protected by my brothers’ strong arms and the neighborhood boys who agreed that tackling a baby was not acceptable. It was all part of the magic that occurred in the 94 acre woods.

Part of a collection of stories "94 Acre Woods" published in Medium.Com