Rumour Has It...

"I'm sorry, but our Princess is in another castle."


Growing up on the Creek was as most outsiders say ...different. (Still is).

We did many things that kids on the outside did. We got up in the morning, went to school. Ate dinner. Brushed our teeth. Went to bed. Occasionally we went to Church. And afterward, we played.

We didn't have video games. These not-so-magical-but-electrical boxes. Not like outsider kids. Some might say we Creek kids had the disadvantage.

We knew they existed, but we weren't allowed to play them. Only heard stories about them from kids who had never played them themselves. And listening to these tales of the magical video game's existence... seemed about as true as a bunny who lays eggs.

But, anyway... I grew up without video games. (And egg laying rabbits)...

I don't suppose there was anything necessarily wrong with that. We played outside. I suppose that's how kids should play. And looking back now, I don't feel as if I'd missed out on anything at all. At the time, my imagination carried me further than the magical game boxes carried most kids. And the technology of an 8 year old mind and what it can create and invent is far more superior to that of an 8 bit pixel world. (I could argue the same for currently advanced pixelized worlds.)

When I was a little boy, I would go out into my Mother's yard and collect sticks. Not just all sticks. Special sticks. Sticks that I deemed different than the others in the way that kids do. I'd collect them all into a pile. Some were guns. Some were swords. And I'd always have one specific stick that I'd claimed as "the best stick."

And that was my chosen weapon of all sticks.

From there, I'd run about, on my own mostly, having imaginary battles that involved dramatic motions... as any intense sword fight would I suppose. And there was always a princess involved.

Many hours of the day were spent doing this, much to my Mother's content. She practically chased us all out of the house once daylight broke, giving her some peace and quiet. Until.. Phillip came out to play... and stole a stick. Not just any stick though. He stole THE stick. The BEST stick. And broke it. Which sent me running into the house crying to my Mother.

She'd ask what the problem was, and I'd cry "Phillip stole my stick AND he BROKE it!"

And she'd look at me..baffled. She didn't understand what the problem was. To Mother, it was just a stick. But to me...it was the BEST stick. So ..when she told me to simply go and get another one, I'd refuse and say "But, it was THE BEST STICK!"

Even as late into my teens.. I would still go out into Mother Ruth's backyard and find that best stick. The movements of course became less dramatic over time. A wave here, a flinch there.. maybe an understated reposte. But, the idea was still there.

And so was the princess.



Just...in another castle.

-Rumours