January 12th, 2010

it was with Butchie Louderback.  We were in the third grade, growing up in a small Colorado mountain town. Everyone in town knew everyone else in town, Main Street was the only one paved, and if you were looking to buy anything other than ski stuff, food or liquor, your opportunities were limited.  For other necessities, one had to drive forty miles down valley to a larger town.  Hard core shopping for something like school clothes or Christmas meant a trip to Denver, maybe twice a year.

Kids made do with fewer, simpler things back then. During the long class recesses of Fall, the game was marbles for boys and girls alike.   Alike, but usually separate.  The only time a boy would visit the girls’ circle was when he needed to replenish his arsenal after losing most of his own marbles to the other boys in a game of keepsies.   A girl would never go to the boys’ circle alone; you need a girlfriend with you if you’re going to be roughed up and literally lose your marbles.

Butchie was a master at both barter and marbles, and he had the consummate marble stash to show for it: cat’s-eyes, steelies, agates, pearls, swirls, multi-swirls, opaques, Popeyes, corkscrews, peewees and shooters.  A gift recipient of many a doll, my meager marble collection was self-earned and lacking a single steely.  I’d often approached Butchie at the swings set, a mutually safe location, about the possibility of a trade for a steely shooter. He was steadfast; for one steely I would have to part with three cat’s-eyes, all of his choosing.  I was willing to do two but three was just too far a stretch, even for a steely shooter.

My father returned from a business trip to Chicago.  He always brought home gifts for us, and as I opened mine I was looking forward to the hair barrettes or doll’s dress.  Instead, there was a small suede drawstring bag, and inside that a dozen green cat’s-eye marbles.  Not much variety, but just exactly what I needed.

The following school day I approached the boys’ circle and boldly held out my hand to Butchie, revealing two of the brand new cat’s-eyes and another cat’s-eye I could live without.  He reached into his pocket, pulled out the exact steely shooter I’d been yearning for and took my offering of the three cat’s-eyes.

It was odd how that steely shooter improved my game.  Not long afterward, I became a good enough player to be occasionally welcomed at the boys’ circle, solo.  Some days I lost and some days I won, and so it goes still.  I have no idea what happened to my marble collection, or to Butchie, but remember to this day one of the most satisfying trades I ever made.

What’s yours?  - Bonnie

Tags: first barter deal, first trade, marbles
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