“In the heart of winter, I discovered an invincible summer within me.” – Albert Camus
As a child, I was fortunate to have parents who encouraged me to explore, imagine, and play independently. Whether they recognized the significance of unstructured outdoor play or simply wanted a moment of peace, I cherished that freedom.
One of my fondest memories is of a playground near my dad’s childhood home in Georgia. We had a metal merry-go-round that served as the centerpiece for our favorite game, “flying monkeys.” The goal was simple yet thrilling: who could jump the farthest off the spinning contraption?
How to play flying monkeys:
- Squat in the center of a merry-go-round reminiscent of 1970s playground equipment.
- Gather friends to spin it as fast as possible.
- When they shout “GO!”, rise up against the centripetal force trying to hold you down.
- As you reach the edge, let centrifugal force propel you off into the air.
- Aim to leap over the metal animals meant for sitting and jump as far as you can.
If my description sounds wild, it’s because it was! Most attempts ended in tumbles or awkward half-jumps, often requiring a quick stop from our spin-masters. Regardless of the results, we always ended up in a fit of laughter.
After our spins, we ventured into the surrounding wilderness. A dense tangle of kudzu and poison ivy bordered the woods, but the creek remained untouched, beckoning us with its cool waters.
The creek was where the real adventures began. We would mold red clay into shapes that often resembled either artistic treasures or, more accurately, dried dog waste. We leaped from bank to bank, splashed in the refreshing water, and when we grew tired of chasing elusive water spiders, we’d explore the mysterious culvert that led to the unknown.
I vividly recall the mixture of fear and excitement as we entered that slimy tunnel. The transition from the hot Georgia sun to the cool, damp air inside was shocking. My toes gripped the metal rungs as we navigated the darkness, and emerging on the other side felt like an achievement. The thrill of exploration was our only reward; I have no memory of what lay beyond the culvert, but the adventure itself was unforgettable.
Reflecting on those days, I realize my dad never checked in on us. His trust in our ability to explore freely amazes me. I suppose he figured we were safe enough in our neighborhood. It wasn’t like we were trekking through a forest miles away, but as a ten-year-old, it felt like quite the adventure.
If I trace back another generation, my grandmother’s stories reveal even greater freedoms. She recalls building a hut with her siblings in the 1930s in Miami, staying overnight without a care in the world.
Today, however, as I consider the limited freedoms I grant my own children, it’s hard to believe we once allowed such liberty. Yet, I am determined to raise my kids with a spirit of adventure, hoping they will experience the same trust and space I had.
Recently, I enrolled my children in the summer camp I once attended, where I’ve returned as a counselor for the past two years. The anticipation of those hot summer days helps me endure the frigid New England winters. I must admit, however, that in the years since my last stint as a counselor, parental expectations have shifted dramatically. Nowadays, children are often required to report their exact whereabouts during free time, effectively robbing them of their freedom.
Not me. I love the idea of my kids getting “lost” in a mud pit or wandering through a creek. As a counselor, I strive to push boundaries where I can. Despite needing permission from multiple sources and gathering emergency supplies, I take groups of kids on creek explorations.
To them, it feels just as wild as it did for me over two decades ago. Perhaps, what they don’t know won’t burden them. After all, what happens at camp stays at camp.
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In summary, the freedom I experienced as a child shaped my adventurous spirit, and though the world has changed, I remain committed to fostering that same sense of exploration in my children.
Keyphrase: Raising free-range kids
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