We loved the unsupervised play periods when teacher would turn us loose for a half hour or more to exercise in any which way we wanted on the rural playground. She doubtless needed the time out as well, responsible she was for eight grades of restless, yet strictly disciplined grade schoolers. The Oak Grove School at District 460 had no gymnasium, no jungle bars, no slides or swings, but we had imagination.
Steal the sticks, Bear by the pump, Goose goose, kick ball. Somebody would choose an activity and we’d all join. And then there was pom pom tackle. Yep, tackle. Unsupervised, the object was to break down the opponent as he tried to make a run for the goal line. Enthusiastically, the top four grades would participate in the rough and tumble. No refs, no rulers.
That’s when I broke my front incisor on Tommy Navratil’s heel. He was tough and strong, a trim farm boy with muscles of steel. Two years older than me, but I was sure I could get him down. He dragged me across the goal line, with me clinging fiercely to his leg.
My tooth was lost forever, first a partial plate, then a permanent bridge. Things are different now on the nation’s playgrounds, I am told. A lot fewer broken teeth.
Tom lost his mother to cancer the day of the Christmas pageant. Nevertheless, he gamely played the role of Jacob Marley, before a stunned and grieving crowd of neighbors, jammed into the little one room school house. The men waited and smoked outside, not enough room for everyone.
Tom dreamed of some day having nice clothes, cutting out samples from the Sears and Roebuck catalog and bringing the clippings to school to share. His widowed father did his best, but.
Tom’s memory will linger, he died recently, but will never to leave the thoughts of so many. Always kind and giving, my younger brother remembers him as his protector from the bullies, putting his power to good use. Tom was mother-less for 70 years, making us truly grateful for the time we had with our own.
His presence endures, whenever my tongue occasionally checks out the condition of that permanent bridge, cemented tightly inside my head these many years.
Rest in peace, Tom.
