In Fillmore, The Kids Are Knuckling Down
In Return To Classic Game
Brett Johnson
June 6, 2008
Photos by Dana Rene
Bowler / Star
staff Trenten Henrey has his shooter
ready for a recess game with his classmates.
Fillmore 06/04/08
Students at
Mountain
in Fillmore gather to look at Luker
Myers marbles during recess
Wednesday afternoon. Marbles
have become a popular game both
in Fillmore and in
Dana Rene Bowler / Star staff
Out in Fillmore,
kids are throwing around Mummies and Tigers. And Bears and T-Rexes and Suns.
Also,
This has caused
damage at
"See those potholes
out there?" Kelly Myers said one recent midafternoon. She motioned to a couple
of browned-out areas on the elementary school's baseball diamonds, pockmarked
with hordes of little holes. It looked like a good start on a prairie dog
colony.
"That's where
they've been playing," continued Myers, a teacher there.
It's off-limits now,
a sort of ground zero to the rebirth of a kid craze and also part of some new
laws they've had to lay down in these parts. They're loosely called "marble
rules." They're also loosely followed and haven't come close to stemming the
tide of this pastime's retro popularity.
Break out the Cat's
Eyes, aggies and alleys from the attic — marbles are back in vogue again among
the wee set. At least one other school in Fillmore has had to adopt marble
rules, and word has it that marble mania has spread to Santa Paula and other
parts of the county — not without warts in some cases.
School's end has
merely shifted the contests to backyard holes, and Myers is sure the marble
rules will come up at assembly when school starts again in mid-August.
On this early June
day at Mountain
It's all about
shooting a marble into a hole amid the dirt and grass. Hitting the hole can mean
double shots (two turns in a row) and "being poison." Being poison means if you
hit the other kid's marble, it's a "kill." Game over, then it's on to the next
one, maybe at another hole. Rarely does a game last more than a minute or two,
perfect for these short attention spans.
They're serious
about their fun. Just ask Luke Myers, Kelly's son, a third-grader who just
turned 9.
"For my birthday, I
got some money and went onto landofmarbles.com and bought some," Luke explained
earnestly. Not only that, he gave out marbles at his birthday bash as party
favors for his guests.
A class in glass
Luke broke out two
strings of orange marbles on the playground. The see-through ones, he said, are
called Mummies, and the creamy, opaque ones are Tigers.
He had several bags
of marbles; he even had his dad's collection in tow. Like the others, Luke loves
marbles because of the fun and competition.
"I also like it
because it wastes time, and sometimes I don't have anything to do," he said with
that pure honesty only a kid can muster.
Friend Trenten
Henrey brought his in a wide-mouth plastic bottle; more than 100, estimated
Trenten, 10, and in fourth grade. "I have another 200 at home," he added.
Marbles seem to be
named after things their colors evoke. Trenten showed off a Neptune, an
otherworldly dark blue with white stripes. A weirdly green one is a Tree Frog, a
pink-orange, creamy one carries the moniker Flamingo, and so on. He also has a
Volcano, a Red Rooster and a Moonlight.
Marko Zavala, 9 and
in fourth grade, packed five marbles in a little plastic vial. A light brown one
with dark brown stripes is his Bear, a yellow and red one his Sun. He also
carries a Michelangelo, a Bubble Gum and a T-Rex.
The marbles vary
from pea to near-golf-ball size. Some of that is for variety, some of it depends
on the hole they're trying to hit. Some holes are smaller than the imprint of a
fist, not discernible until you almost step on them.
"I have a Peewee,
too," gushed Alejandro Hernandez, standing amid a throng of players. The
10-year-old fifth-grader produced a beautiful tiny blue marble.
Most have their one
favorite, their ace in these holes. Or as one kid put it as he ran by, "I'm
gonna play with my baby."
The kids put all
sorts of serious spin on their marbles to keep them near the holes, mostly using
thumb, forefinger and middle finger in fast flicks. It's all about feel, tension
and control.
"You gotta practice
your aim," added Marko as he lined up a shot.
They also scuff up
the marbles for play on different surfaces, such as concrete. This has drawbacks
— Luke showed some callouses on his fingers that would draw sympathy from a
guitar picker or golfer.
"It can hurt your
thumb," Luke said. "Once, I made my thumb bleed."
Playground pecking
orders exist. There are fourth-grade holes and fifth-grade holes, Marko said.
About those rules
These dug-up holes,
hundreds of them, were one reason for the marble rules. Not only are the
baseball diamonds a marble-free zone, so is a quad area on campus that the kids
once laid siege to. They're now limited to a long strip of grass near the ball
fields.
Another rule is that
kids can carry no more than five marbles in their pockets. It seems the loud
jiggling noise of crammed pockets was quite a distraction.
"You could stand in
the middle of the school and hear marbles in their pockets all over," said
Myers.
It's a crime in
class; Luke has had marbles taken away and others confirmed they've also had
some confiscated. Not everyone thinks it's all fun and games.
"There's a teacher
with a marble jar in one class," Myers said, "and it's filling."
Mostly, though, kids
can get their marbles back in a day or so.
The third and last
big rule strikes at the very heart of marbles tradition. No more "playing for
keeps." But the kids find ways around it.
"After school you
can — no more rules," Trenten said, flashing a borderline-guilty grin. So they
go elsewhere or keep mum about playing for keeps.
"Most people don't
follow the rules," Marko said.
"Like you, Marko,"
retorted a classmate.
Marko boasted that
he once came to a gathering armed with only two marbles and left with 20.
Elsewhere, marbles
enjoy pockets of popularity and also cause a few problems.
Marbles as social
mixers
On the whole, Myers
and others say, marbles play is a good thing. It could be much worse. "At least
they're not out there getting into trouble," she said.
As for the surge in
popularity at Mountain
"A lot of the kids
are from
Almost as if on cue,
Alejandro ran past wrapped in a megawatt smile. He came from
A few rules aren't
going to stop this thing.
Picking up on that,
a local store has started selling marbles: a $3 bag, the kids say, nets about
two dozen of the coveted tiny orbs.
A cluster of seven
or eight kids in a circle crouched in the grass examining Trenten's marbles,
like lions digging in on the spoils of a hunt. A voice piped up, "Can I trade
you?" It was an offer heard several times this day.
Some wanted more
action. Marko said, "Trenten, you wanna play in the big hole?" With that, they
were off to another spot.
For a moment there,
differences evaporated. Cultures melded in the universality of a shared smile or
a devilish dare.
The Fillmore kids
didn't care about the big picture or this age's fetish with instant analysis.
Why is it popular — who cares?
Rules, what rules?
There was braggin' to be done, trades to be made, shouts of glee, marbles on the
loose and holes to fill. Call it the joy of being poison.