rib counting

I remember as a kid always being excited to visit Joe and Marion (my grandparents) in Shreveport for 2 reasons. The first was getting to play with their awesome toys. My favorites were the Atari, if Rebecca would let me do more than just watch her, and this weird ball you could thread a thick rope through which I would pretend to go fishing with off of their front porch. I probably did this when Rebecca kicked me out of the room for annoying her while she played Atari. I'm also pretty sure I did this sulkily, and hoped Rebecca would come and find me and beg me to play with her. I don't think that ever happened.

The other reason I loved going was what happened when I first got there. Joe would "check to make sure I had all of my ribs." As a doctor it was a very serious job and as a growing kid it was important I didn't lose any ribs. I would excitedly jump up on his lap and he would count each one, and tell me to stop squirming when it tickled because it would mess him up. I can still picture his big grin, trying to keep a straight face while tickling me, and making me sit still and take it. I don't know why I loved this rib counting ritual we had, but I loved it. I'm sure part of it was this was the only time I truly had one on one time with him as a kid. Thinking back on it, I wonder if he did this with Rebecca or any of my cousins. 

As I got older the rib counting stopped, and it was replaced with long conversations on their porch or around their kitchen table. I'm going to miss that.

From one of my favorite picture books I read to my class every year:

     Trisha’s grandma used to say that the stars were holes in the sky. They were the light of heaven coming from the other side. And she used to say that someday she would be on the other side, where the light comes from. One evening they lay on the grass together and counted the lights from heaven. 

     “You know,” her grandma said, “all of us will go there someday. Hang on to the grass, or you’ll lift right off the ground, and there you’ll be!”

     They laughed, and both hung on to the grass. But it was not long after that night that her grandma must have let go of the grass, because she went to where the lights were, on the other side. And not long after that, Trisha’s grandpa let go of the grass, too.

Thank You, Mr. Falker; Patricia Polacco