Did you ever play “King of the Mountain” when you were a kid? It was one of my favorite games. The “King” would go atop his mountain (usually a very tiny hill or hump) and yell, “I am the King of the Mountain!” And then he would immediately be challenged. Other kids would come at him (or her) and try to pull him down or push him off. He in turn would push them away. He had the advantage because he was on terrain just a bit higher and, therefore, gravity helped him a little.
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| The King of the Mountain. |
Whenever I was Queen, I would guard my territory like
crazy! My whole world became that one
little patch of land. I had to hang on
to that hill. I knew every other kid
wanted it, and if you succeeded in bringing down the King, you became the next
King or Queen. It was always fun to try
to drag or push the King or Queen off the mountain, but it was a lot more fun
to actually be the King or Queen and guard it.
I guess maybe because you knew that you had the one thing everyone else
wanted: The top of the hill.
Now that I’m much older, I often think about the King of the
Mountain. I still think it’s a great
game. It’s funny how kids seem to
instinctively know and play out adult dramas.
On the one hand, we could say that the King of the Mountain ought to
share his mountain with the rest of the kids, especially those who might be
physically limited. On the other
hand, it sure felt good to “have” that Mountain, and if we could defend it with
strength and bravery and cunning strategy, why shouldn’t we keep it?
Of course, no one ever got hurt when playing the King of the
Mountain. It was a game designed to test
our strength, our skill, our ability to maneuver one opponent against another,
and most especially, our loyalty to the "cause." In our
adult lives, we all have our own little “patch,” our own little mountain,
however humble it may be. We guard it,
love it, and protect it. By golly, to
this day, I am still the Queen of my
Mountain!
