If you have never heard the phrase “button, button, who’s got the button?" it was actually a popular parlor game from the mid-1800s. And contrary to what Miss Trixie says, Ol' Dutch was not there to help invent that game. Still, Miss Trixie contends that while I may not have been there for breakfast that day, I sure made it for supper. 

Anyway, back in those days prior to zippers, Velcro, and snaps, people used buttons in all of their clothes. The women of the house would keep spare buttons of every shape, size, color, and configuration in glass jars, just waiting for someone to pop one off. Ol’ Dutch is old enough to remember seeing those button-filled clear jars at my grandmother's house, and we would get them out and make up our own games. 

The game itself involved forming a circle around another participant who was referred to as “It.” I guess that's the same “It” we used in tag, kick-the-can, and other pursuit games, though today it would not be politically correct — and possibly damaging — to call another child an “It.” I guess we had thicker skin back in those days. 

But anyways, the person chosen would stand in the middle of a circle of friends. Another person would take a button, go around to all the participants who had their hands clasped, and pretend to leave the button with each player — but only actually drop it into one person's hands. Everyone would chant the magic words, “Button, button, who’s got the button?” at which time the person who was “It” would attempt to guess who actually had it.  

I know. Some real exciting stuff there. But you have to realize this was way, way back before entertainment was a simple click away, so people made up their own fun. 

Just this past month, I had decided to get a new truck. As usual, I tried to get the limited-equipment modes, as I use it for hunting, fishing, and farming, and I don't want fancy in any of those pursuits. I actually bought the thing online, and when I arrived at the dealer, I found it to have a lot more equipment than I am normally used to. 

I mean, it has the mandatory 4x4 transmission for my outdoor pursuits, but the standard package now is more attuned to an airplane cockpit. It has screens and switches galore, and some woman talks to me almost non-stop, which keeps me from missing Miss Trixie when I am not with her. The seats adjust like a trip to the chiropractor’s office, USB ports and regular electrical panels abound, and there is storage galore. But mainly, there are lots of buttons. 

I had not had the truck very long when I had to drive the 13 hours to Colorado. So, all that long day, I got to push buttons just to see what they did. They turn on automatic headlights that dim when I meet a car, turn on the 4x4 settings, operate cruise control, run some kind of anti-skid dooly-gig for the tires, connect to the Internet, and on and on and on. I finally got tired of the woman talking to me about everything under the sun and did get her shut off. So, I had some man-time with peace and quiet, at least part of the drive. 

Arriving alive and tired, I was so happy to see Miss Trixie — her gorgeous self — and we got caught up quickly on the busy things she had been doing without me there. But when we got around to the “what did you bring?” questions she started firing at me, I soon found out that Ol’ Dutch didn't remember to pack what I was supposed to. 

This quickly advanced into what I call “pushing Miss Trixie’s buttons,” which apparently I am highly skilled in doing. And I cannot imagine why, as I think I am easy to get along with, loving, kind, personable, and handsome to boot. What more can she want, honestly? 

Don’t answer that. 

Kevin Kirkpatrick spends his days fishing, hunting, ATVing, hiking or making people laugh. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.com