I was a summer camp lover.  Camp Wingfoot was on Lake Erie in Madison, Ohio.  It wasn’t fancy, but it suited me, especially because it had horseback riding. Some of the campers cried when their parents dropped them off at the start of camp. I cried when my parents picked me up.

Of course, we had the hated “rest hour” every day after lunch.  It was then that we had rousing games of jacks and Pick Up sticks on the floor of our cabin because no one wanted to “rest.”

It’s probably been about seventy years since I played Pick Up sticks.  Until last week.

I spied a familiarly-shaped tall container on a table next to the sofa while visiting friends.  Why would they have pick up sticks?  No idea.  Of course, I had to play. 

A couple of differences from camp.  1. Pick Up sticks are now plastic.  Ours were wood. 2.  Now the different colors have different points. 3.  And perhaps the most important difference is that we had to play on the kitchen counter because it was unlikely that we could get up if we played on the floor.

I won.