When we were children in Phoenix, in the pre-home refrigeration days, dusk was the signal to run outside and play. We would run around with all of the neighborhood children and play the usual games. When I purchased a new home in Mesa, I wanted to duplicate that same neighborhood experience. Happily, we moved into a neighborhood with lots of children and my own children had the same experience of growing up in Mesa with a neighborhood.
One of my best memories happened late one night when there was a huge thunderstorm. The street in front of our house filled with water two or three feet deep. The houses up and down the street emptied of children, all of whom were dancing in the rain and water. It was a glorious night for children.
All of that is now past. In our new neighborhood, the streets are empty, even in the cooler evening hours. The children we see are constantly supervised by parents and not allowed out of their driveway. If they are riding a bike or scooter, they are heavily padded with helmets, elbow and knee protectors. In one instance, a few children rode their bikes around our neighbor's circular driveway, which was open to the street. The neighbor stormed out of his house and loudly complained to the children's parents and ordered them to keep off his paved driveway. Children are no longer allowed to be human, they are kept like nicknack's and wrapped in bubble wrap. The streets are now mostly empty.
One day I saw some children playing in the park next to our house. However, immediately, their father was out on the sidewalk yelling at them to get home. We have lived next to a park for over thirty years. The old one was always full of children, the new one is entirely empty, it seems to be a park for dogs only.
I know there may still be some places left in this world where children can play, unsupervised, for an hour or two outside. Where they can build mud villages and dig ditches in the dirt. Where they can run and play like children and enjoy being outside. When I see the poor little creatures sitting in front of the video or TV my heart cries out, go outside! See the sun, the moon and the stars. Look at the trees. Find bugs. Dig holes, make a mess, do things children have always done until now.
Bravo, James!
ReplyDeleteA radio flier little red wagon, leather-tough Summer bare feet, penny bubble gum in your pocket, and a spare lot at the end of the street with a pile of boards and lovely junk just waiting to be pillaged for suitable fort-building materials back home; that was a full day.
Our mom never would have been able to describe what we were wearing to the Police - we were out of the house and far away on our Schwinn bikes before she even saw us. We packed snacks hobo-style. We visited the neighbors horses, tried to make a walking leash for our favorite chicken (no luck), mastered self-propelled daredevilry in our wagons (only on straight-a-ways; turns were deadly) and could scale a fence in seconds. We were on a constant look-out for good climbing trees. To this day I sometimes find myself thinking, "Wow - that's a great climbing tree..." when I see one.
My own children were sadly deprived of a big yard and animals since we lived for so many years in apartments surrounded by concrete and spooky people. I tried to make up for the deficit by taking everyone on long stroller walks and letting them get dirty.
One time I caught a magnificent preying mantis. I put it in a glass jar and told the boys to catch a cricket or something. James came back with a bee between a cup and a paper plate. We deposited the bee into the jar, capped it with perforated plastic wrap, and I told the kids to watch carefully...nature was about to put on a show! It was all very suspenseful and predictable to a point: I was the only one knew what was going to happen. However: none of us were prepared for HOW the mantis would dispatch his victim. Excited comments from happy little kids as he stalked and finally caught the bee, lapsed into horrified silence as we saw how the bee was leisurely eaten one feeler at a time, then one leg at a time - the bee frantically protesting all the while. The procedure was amplified to the extreme in the jar, the munching noises and distress from the bee were grisly. When mantis began to eat the eyes one at a time, I think there was a tear or two.
Bi is now 31, James is 26, Leiland is 23; they all remember vividly my disastrous "oh boy, kids! let's learn about nature" moment.
Obama is working on this problem too.
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