Taking Turns

When I was a kid, I took a lot of turns. Some were fun but not all.  Sometimes I got to choose, and others were cast upon me. I preferred those that involved a choice but that’s not always possible.

My mom gave me my first instructions about taking turns. If we didn’t discuss it before, we definitely did after my sister Sharron was born. I learned a lot about sharing during that same time. Taking turns and sharing went hand in hand.

My kindergarten teacher, Miss Smoll, gave little lectures about taking turns but I was in love with her, so I didn’t mind. Love has that effect on young suitors.

We took turns being the line leader, helping pass out paper, and getting first dibs on which rhythm instrument we’d play as we marched around the room. Important stuff like that.  I liked banging on the little drum or shaking the maracas, but we had about two hundred drumsticks that we just clicked together so most of us ended up with a pair of them.

Some of my best memories of taking turns involved celebrations. We played a game at several birthday parties that involved dropping a clothespin into a milk bottle. Most of the time the dropper knelt on a chair and dropped the pins from the perch. Kneeling on the chair helped ensure that the contestants had an equal opportunity. Long armed kids could have just placed pins in the bottle. The person who successfully dropped the most pins won a prize.

Pin the tail on the donkey was another turn taking game, but there was no skill involved.  It was just blind luck. (pun intended)

We took turns during the holidays. Each Thanksgiving turkey had a wishbone. After it dried out, two people got a chance at pulling one end of the bone to make a wish.  Most of our Thanksgivings had multiple potential pullers.  I don’t remember any knock down drag out fights, but I do recall a lot of whining.   I think the whiners were eliminated from taking a pull.  Polite, smiling faces ruled the day.

Once the actual pulling began the puller that ended up with the larger end of the bone was declared the wish winner.  I recall winning a time or two, but I don’t think any of my wishes came true.  If they did, I don’t remember them.

As we get older, taking turns takes on new meaning. It’s our turn to take out the trash, wash the dishes and mow the lawn. At my house it was always my turn to mow. My two sisters never took one. They may have after I went to college but never before.

The list of chores seems endless. They rob you of the fun you wish you were having. You don’t realize it, but the chores teach you about responsibility. They include lessons about doing the right thing, pitching in, accountability, helping others and being kind. Being kind is a big deal.

The older we get the more turns we take.  Eventually we take a turn at moving out of the house.  At least most of us do.  Some stay home forever.  Those who stay have limited opportunities to take turns. Some of us meet college friends or share apartments with workmates. The more people we know, the more turns we take.  That includes gaining new people and losing others.

We take a turn with grief too.  My first was with goldfish.  I learned more when my grandparents passed. I knew how I felt and saw it on the faces of others.  My turns with grief came slowly.  Others had theirs’s cast upon them without a warning. No one likes their turn.  It’s kind of like learning to ride a bike.  You don’t always use it, but you always know how.  It’s hanging around waiting to return.

Your own mortality creeps in one day. No one wants that turn, but we’re all going to get there. Try as we might, we can’t stick around forever.  The key is making each good turn count, so they outnumber the bad.  We’re all going to get both so celebrate the laughs and do your best to avoid the tears for as long as you can.  Tally up as many smiles as possible. Cherish them all.

Remember, we get what we get.  Our greatest gift is time, so use most of yours taking turns with the people you love.