July 7, 2025
It began on the morning of July 5th, while I was walking with my daughter along the Brooklyn waterfront. As we passed a poplar tree, I plucked a leaf and showed her a childhood game we used to play. I curled four fingers inward to meet my thumb to show her the game.
The Leaf‑Pop Game
The game goes like this: you curl the four fingers of one hand inward to meet the thumb, forming a circle with a hollow center. Then you place the round blade of a poplar leaf over the opening, aim well and give it a quick slap with your other palm—POP!—and the leaf breaks, its echo ringing like a tiny firecracker.
Sometimes, when the leaf tore silently—what we called a “哑炮” (“dud”)—everyone laughed, and the unlucky player was left with a stinging hand and bruised pride. We’d slap harder, chasing the loudest pop.
The Petiole Tug‑of‑War
We didn't throw away the rest of the leaf. We'd keep for another game the petiole of the leaf—that long, string-like stem of the leaf. It's called “拉钩,” like tiny tug‑of‑war ropes: two players would hook their leaf petioles together and then pull, each trying to break the other’s petiole without snapping their own. The one whose petiole stayed intact was the winner.
Next, I told my daughter that we didn't have money and toys, but we had plenty of time and a lot of play time. We played many games and made our own toys with whatever materials we got hold of.
Clay Pots, Ice‑Stick Swords, and Other Lost Inventions
We invented games and toys from whatever we could find. Even now, whenever I see something discarded or ordinary, my mind still wonders how it might be repurposed or recycled—how something that looks like junk could become a toy, or a useful thing. And even today, whenever I have a piece of paper in hand, I always think of folding it into some toy like bird or flower or pig or dog.
“炸锅锅”: a game we enjoyed playing. We mixed dirt and water, shaped it into clay pots, slapped them on the ground, and thrilled at the crisp explosion.
Popsicle‑stick treasures: materials for toys. We picked and saved these sticks and used them to make whatever we imagined.
Pencil knives & wood scraps: we carved our own slingshots and wooden “handguns” with found wood and our pencil knives.
Dragonfly hunts: catching dragonflies in summer was a fun summer thrill, with the exhilaration of a swift catch.
Bottle‑cap markets: some toys that cost money that we didn’t have, like color glass marble, we bartered our handmade toys to kids who did.
I grew peppers and green beans using discarded broken pan. Every alley and field was both playground and treasure-island.
A Contrast
My daughter listened, wide‑eyed. Her room closet was overflown with toys that I could never have imagined, yet she never seemed to have time for them, with all kinds of interest classes, music, sport, art, etc, the modern arms race of childhood achievement leaves little space and time for creation or aimless wonder.
Back in our childhood, unstructured play was abundant. We had little in material things but plenty of time to imagine, create, and explore. Today, the contrast is stark: material abundance meets time scarcity, and free play has become a rare luxury. Maybe it's time we loosen our children’s tightly packed schedules, giving them back the space and time to wander, to tinker, and to simply be themselves.
Why Record This?
“These stories are history,” I told my daughter. “If I don’t tell them—and write them—they’ll disappear.”
One leaf, one story, passed down before it fades.
