Losing my Marbles

It is probably certain that over the years Fred Hudson has figuratively lost his marbles many times. It is absolutely certain that once Fred Hudson did lose his marbles---literally, twice.

Growing up the 50’s but mainly the 60’s, I remember some of the fads of the time. There was the hula-hoop, the mercy cross, the yo-yo craze of the early 60’s, Beatle Mania, and probably others that I don’t remember.

Then there was marble shooting. It was in the spring of ’59 when I was 9 years old that it started. The boy sport was that two or more parties put an equal number of marbles in the center of a circle drawn in the dirt and the parties took turns trying to shoot the marbles out of the circle by projecting your “taw’ (your shooting marble) from the edge of the circle into the marbles in the circle. If you shot a marble out of the circle, it was yours.

It was all in the wrist and finger action. I would walk around practicing flipping my thumb against my index finger trying to strengthen my dexterity.

I remember asking Nita B, my long-time girlfriend growing up, if she wanted to shoot marbles. She said, “What’s that?” I explained and she just scoffed and exclaimed, “How stupid!” That’s when I realized shooting marbles was a guy thing. Sorry, girls.

The mistake I made that led to losing my marbles was in playing with a boy in the neighborhood named Lemmy. Lemmy was older than me, around 13 or 14, and so he was stronger with the fingers and the wrist action and he could project his taw faster and harder than mine. Why I played with him I’ll never know given the strength difference.

We start playing and all of a sudden I had only 5 marbles left to my name. At least I had the sense to quit then. I had those 5 marbles in a small plastic case and I remember walking back to the house looking at those precious 5 marbles. I rolled them around in the case just to hear them clack. I fondled them. I wondered if I would ever be able to replenish my stock.

In life’s retrospective, less is often more. The more of less from youth and/or poverty is only understood in time’s perspective. At the time it’s horrible. Unfortunately we have to wait for the proper passage of time to understand. This is the great example of my life.

The next thing I remember I lost my marbles. Where were they? I couldn’t find them anywhere. I remember asking my Daddy, “Have you seen my marble case?” He grunted and looked away. My Daddy had more important things on his mind like earning a living and dealing with my Mother than to be concerned by the location of my marbles.

Or so I thought. A day or two later, my Daddy handed a bag of new marbles, the most beautiful marbles I had ever seen in my life. He bought them at the “dime store.” They were “cat’s eye” marbles, which I had never seen before. All of a sudden I had a dozen new, breath-taking marbles. I wasn’t about to lose these marbles. Of all the things my parents gave me over the years, I remember most fondly that bag of new marbles from my father.

I kept those cat’s eye marbles for years and years. I retired from shooting marbles in order to keep these wonderful things. Then one day I couldn’t find them. The cat’s eye marbles vanished like the case of five. I never did find them and neither did I ever find those 5 marbles in the plastic case.

I still think about and miss those marbles. But I know they’re gone forever except in my memory---when I literally lost my marbles.