Sunday, May 04, 2008


Do you call it a tramp? That's what my brother and I called it. "Let's go jump on the tramp," we'd say. It feels so very 70's to me.

My brother and I lived on our tramp for many, many summers. If we weren't jumping, we were playing Lost in Space and the tramp was our spacecraft, or we were collecting toads in the yard and putting them on it (so they could experience the joy of bouncing too!), or we were sleeping out in sleeping bags with our basset hound, Bentley, all sprawled out with us and our cousins and friends.

There was no net. The only major injury I recall was my broken nose. Mom and Dad had a 2-person rule for jumping. But if we weren't jumping -- if we were sitting and just hanging out -- we were allowed to have a lot more kids on the tramp. I was either in 5th or 6th grade one afternoon and maybe seven of us decided to play a version of tag with the "it" person's eyes closed. I was "it" and was on my hands and knees trying to tag someone when, totally by accident, I was kicked hard in the face. I remember a bloody nose unlike any other. But all in all, good, good times. We're hoping Hank and Hope will enjoy their tramp for as many years as I did mine.

Practicing for summer

1 comment:

  1. Oh tramps. I had a tramp and so did my very best friend. But my friend's tramp was far away from her parent's house and in a field.

    What I remember most about my tramp experience: making out with Adam and drinking.

    I'm glad to see you kept it a lot cleaner than me.