2 days ago
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Not last night, but the night before
We had friends for dinner, and deep into our third bottle of wine, we had covered most to the usual subjects. I'll not bore you with the specifics. Through the haze, I reflected on something I saw on PBS earlier in the week. See if it catches you as off guard as it did me.
Sometime in the not so distant past the joy of jumping rope went away.
Age appropriately (in public at least) until maybe 6th grade rope jumping was practiced in the mid 60's. Fifteen years later gone, and along with it all the jumping rhymes, and terms like double dutch. Gone, went the way of hop scotch, and 4 square.
Granddaughter Paige will be 10 next month, just about the right age for jumping. If I asked her to jump rope with me she'd think I'd had 3 heads.
Since I was in my cups, I posited that the last jump roper in America could likely be located, boxers and exercise fanatics excepted. Probably a woman in her mid 40's.
Photo from Iceland Eyes