Knots in My Yo-Yo String (2011)
“But when I was little, I loved it. War was a game, guns were toys, death an amusement ride. The first card game I ever played was called war.
I also played with little green soldiers, maybe two inches high. I loved their perfect, tiny helmets that reminded me of cereal bowls. Even the faces of the soldiers were perfect and green. Their tiny mouths and eyes were forever locked into a battlefield moment that I could only imagine.
I read G.I. Joe and Combat Kelly comic books. Then, down at the creek, I would poke a stick into the powdery bottom silt, pop it upward, and go “Boom!” I pretended the resulting brown underwater cloud was an atomic bomb explosion.
And of course, I played war with my friends. Beyond the dead end, there were two major arsenals: the stone piles and the spear field. The stone piles were on the other side of the tracks, between the main dump and the creek. There were five of them, each about ten feet high. The piles no doubt belonged to a construction company, but a...s far as we dead-end kids were concerned, they were there strictly in answer to our instinct to fling a stone.MoreLess
I also played with little green soldiers, maybe two inches high. I loved their perfect, tiny helmets that reminded me of cereal bowls. Even the faces of the soldiers were perfect and green. Their tiny mouths and eyes were forever locked into a battlefield moment that I could only imagine.
I read G.I. Joe and Combat Kelly comic books. Then, down at the creek, I would poke a stick into the powdery bottom silt, pop it upward, and go “Boom!” I pretended the resulting brown underwater cloud was an atomic bomb explosion.
And of course, I played war with my friends. Beyond the dead end, there were two major arsenals: the stone piles and the spear field. The stone piles were on the other side of the tracks, between the main dump and the creek. There were five of them, each about ten feet high. The piles no doubt belonged to a construction company, but a...s far as we dead-end kids were concerned, they were there strictly in answer to our instinct to fling a stone.MoreLess
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