It’s an easy cliche to over sentimentalize the past, but there are things that I miss about a simpler time in a smaller place. Despite the pervasive luxury of boredom, there existed in those endless, unsupervised hot summer days a sense of freedom that is lost not only to me as a “grown-up with responsibilities,” but is foreign to most kids in our modern culture of expendable income and relentless opportunities for personal growth. Like many neighborhoods, ours had a pack of kids that ran wild until the streetlights came on and harassed the neighbors with redesigning their horseshoe pits, doorbell ditch, and Kick-The-Can.
When we fought over who got the first rope swing over the pond, when we came to fists over the rules of our made-up games, and when we drove each other to tears over mean comments and stolen marbles there were no adults mediating the conflict. There was no threat of lawsuits and our parents did not take sides. Sure, we were advised to “Not say anything if we couldn’t say anything nice”, we were taught the retort “I know you are but what am I”, and we were counseled on the value of turning the other cheek. Sometimes we did, but mostly we were left to our own resources to work out our conflicts. Anyone not in a mood to make up and get on with it could just go sit at home alone and miss the fun for the rest of the post-school day (only the big kids had homework back then).
Despite its Lord of the Flies-ish tone, what I remember most is that we learned how to both fight and stand up for ourselves. We learned how to knock someone down and then feel bad about it when we saw our actions and our words could actually hurt. We learned how to dust our knees off and get up and get on the bike again. We learned how to forgive, and we usually forgot pretty quickly. We knew how to apologize and really mean it because we were allowed to test our boundaries, learn empathy, and experience the impact of the strength an individual can wield in this world.
We knew about things like the teacher’s red correction pen, the wooden spoon, and what it felt like to lose. We understood that if we left our bikes in the driveway they might get run over, and we don’t automatically get a new bike. We appreciated that if we pulled the dog’s tail she would bite; and before we ran off to tattle about a scuffle we had to be prepared to consider what we did to provoke it.
I didn’t walk to school uphill in two feet of snow each way. I didn’t have to protect myself from frostbite with hot stones while I slept. I always had clothes for each school year, and I never went hungry.
On the other hand, I did walk to school, and the clothes I wore often were hand-me-downs from a variety of mom’s friends from Boston to New Jersey. My brother and I once had a knock-down fight over the last orange, and there were plenty of winter nights when we threw extra blankets on the beds instead of turning the heat up.
My parents were the children of World War II and our family was a middle class warrior of the last recession. What I know now is that because of all the sacrifices they saw their parents make, because of all the kids they really did know who were hungry, and because they knew life was not always fair or easy, they were equipped to march us through hard times with a gritty kind of love that made us certain of college but clear in no uncertain terms that character and integrity will always need to be guarded; and that money does not bring happiness.
“Expensive shoes don’t make a person honest,” my dad would remind me when I wanted something new.
“Offer it up to the people who suffer in this world,” my mom would say when I had a lousy day at school.
Honestly, this was cold comfort at the time, but living in a world surrounded by plenty it resonates with me now when I think about all the things I want, and how desperately I sometimes want them. It enables me to step back for a minute and think about why I want, and where our consumer products come from. Remember “Clean your plate and think about the children of Africa”? The modern equivalent to that could be, “Put the impulse buy down and think about the slave laborers in China, India, Taiwan (insert third world country), who has no workers rights and has been uprooted from their family to make that (insert unnecessary plastic goods) for your short term pleasure.
You’ve heard the expression, “Don’t smoke because every cigarette takes 7 minutes off your life.” What about, “Don’t leave the lights on because it steals a day of clean air from an Indian child.” Or maybe, “Walk to work today so a family in Bangladesh can have clean water for a week.”
It may sound like hyperbole, but take a look at how many people have died world-wide in the past 5 years in weather related tragedies. The use of resources anywhere in the world has a ripple effect that will manifest in small chain reactions all over the globe. It is only in understanding the impact of our actions, and the full ramifications of the choices we make that we can fully come to grips with how we can make the necessary changes to ensure the future health and safety of the children we tend to today. We might think that feel-good academic grading and adult mediation of games to ensure fair-play makes the world a safer place for our children, but hurt feelings over the harshness of red marker pointing out our spelling mistakes and a school yard fight is the least of what we need to worry about. It’s myopic for American children to be raised to think they are entitled to every material desire without consequence, if for no other reason than it is these very children that will need to face the ethical responsibilities privilege has granted them when entire countries are wiped out in the face of climate change, drought, air pollution, and war.
It’s important that we raise our children to know that life is not at all fair, but that they must strive for justice. It is reasonable for our children to be taught to understand that a quality life is lead by the depth of experiences and the inspiration of relationships, and not the volume of purchases that will grow dusty and outgrown.
So when I hear about the latest gadgets, enrichment activities, and all the gymnastics classes, soccer games, swimming teams, violin lessons, hours of homework and dinner on the fly I have a feeling of exhaustion on behalf of these kids. What about fun time? Free time? How about a slow-cooked pot roast dinner and a game of Pictionary in front of the fireplace? I suspect that if the typical American household took it down just a notch or two we would accomplish a lot more towards our long term goals. A simple night at home in the living room strengthens the family, saves money, conserves fossil fuels, enhances creativity, saves water, cleans the air, helps us lose weight, reduces carbon emissions, and subsequently might even lower our blood pressure.
As much as I actually wish I could play a musical instrument, I can tell you from experience that I would not ever, for one minute trade summer cookouts at Snoopy Pond with my dad, basketball games with my siblings, and trips to Plymouth with my mom for any academic or professional opportunity I may have missed out on because of it.
The designer jeans and trendy watches? I still remember their brand names but I doubt they would fit any more. Long afternoons of sloshing through frog ponds, the wipe-outs on Killer’s Hill, the bloody noses and broken arms from falling out of trees and jumping off garage roofs, how dirty I got when I planted my first garden, and how I really didn’t mind the taste of my first mud pie –this is the breath of my memories, and the things I strive to keep vibrant in my grown-up world.
