I’m re-blogging a post from the fledgling blog of my oldest son–the one who along with his wife gave to me the best birthday gift ever by announcing she was pregnant, and then later bringing our first grandchild into our world. Due to that grandchild and his job, Eldest Son is rarely able to spend time writing, so I’m glad that he was able to write the post I’m reblogging. As the father of the two boys who were beating each other with sticks, I’m going to defend myslf by saying that I must have been at work when this occurred and no eyes were poked out in the process! ;-D!
My brother and I were knights—for a week or maybe more.
I was really too old to still be playing at such games, but my brother, three years younger was probably the right age. From random geometrically cut plywood slabs forgotten in the woodpile we made shields. Leather straps held them to our forearms, loosely, like flapping window shutters. Mine was a triangle, his a circle. Both we painted white. We took care to add devices. A patch of an almost peaceful, serene blue served for his and a bend of blue and gold for mine. They took two days to craft and we made them as if we would keep them mounted over our mantel forever.
Three foot long dowels were left unpainted and lacked hilts. We were too much in earnest I think. We just wore gardening gloves for gauntlets instead.
We were both knights or perhaps just…
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