Children & Nature

Upon reading Richard Louv's article in the March/April Orion Magazine I was struck by a truth that I have tried hard to disbelieve for the past several years:

Most kids do not play outside anymore.

Sometimes there is a larger reason why outdoor play isn't possible ... parents are fearful of the neighborhood, a family doesn't live in an environment where the outdoors are conducive to exploration (urban city apartment, extreme temperatures), or families have competing indoor activities.

Still, I believe that interaction with nature is an important part of a young persons development. It would seem that "a growing body of scientific evidence" would agree. There are certain

"strong correlations between experience in the natural world and children's ability to learn ... Stress levels, attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, cognitive functioning ... are positively affected by time spent in nature."

"...it is reported that greener neighborhoods are associated with slower increases in children's body mass, regardless of residential density."

(pg.70, MArch/April Orion)

So how did we get away from the neighborhood or nature-based play? I don't really know, but here are a few of the things I think diminish our outdoor play.

1. Parental fear that their child will be abducted or harmed outside and that there isn't anything on T.V. or in video games that can permanently damage a child, besides its inside and I (as the parent) can control what my kids see and hear.

2. The continuous stream of "news" that infiltrates our lives and fills us with fear about events that rarely take place, but are over-emphasized for affect.

3. Lack of real knowledge about flowers, trees, animals, faming/gardening and water ... once again the flukes are over-publicized making parents and children afraid that flowers, trees, animals, farming/gardening and water will harm them.

4. The belief that sweaty, dirty outdoor work is bad for kids and we gladly hire adults to do work around the house that teenagers in the not so distant past once took care of for the family /community.

When I was twelve years old I started to "work" for the neighborhood association watering and weeding the signs that welcomed people into Tall Oaks IV (in Edmond, Oklahoma). I rode my bike to each of these signs and got my knees dirty in the mud, gouged my fingers open on the thorns of roses, and probably complained to my parents about how hard my job was and how much I hated working, but the independence and freedom that the $100 at the end of the month gave me was worth riding my bike uphill in August.

I am sure my mom worried about my riding around the neighborhood, but somehow it was more important for me to learn responsibility, to grow in time management skills and let her alone for two hours a week that her fear was allayed.

Really I have very little "right" to discuss this topic since I am not a mother myself, but I feel the need to start these conversations in our bookstore community. I want to see the children we all love grow up to be creative, thoughtful, healthful people. Hopefully some of you have opinions about this topic too.

rebekah

Cheerios & Christmas

This morning I had a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast, and it wasn't that exciting.

In my younger years Cheerios were the highlight of my morning, but the floating little O's just tasted bland and their ability to pop back up to the surface just seemed blah. I don't think floating marshmallows or Fruit Loop colored milk could have cheered me up.

Christmas too has been sub-par. I think of how bright and beautiful that day is, but it has not held that special sweetness of bygone years . I thought it might be that I was sick and unable to travel to be with relatives, or getting used to a new job, or I wasn't in the "mood" for Christmas last year, but now I am starting to think it is something else:

I am getting old.

Now I know all of you octogenarians and forty-somethings are giggling to think of me aging, but I am! (just look at all my grey hair) In my last year of teaching my students thought I had lived through the seventies, rather than just knowing about them.

It seems that somewhere along the line I let go of my ability to be amazed and I want it back again. I turned into one of those stodgy people who think about why Cheerios float instead of just laughing all morning while I try to dunk those little rings. I got too wrapped up in the stuff of Christmas rather than the silent wonder. I never really believed in Santa Claus, but making cookies with my parents and brothers has always been my favorite tradition, but that hasn't happened since 1999!

Perhaps I need to make the effort to find fascination in minuscule things, but who has the time? Anyway, the disappointing cereal has got me thinking about what an adult I've become and I do not like it one bit.

rebekah

a fall into community

This morning I had a temporary loss of gravity and effectively smeared most of my back half on the stairs in our home. Probably I deserved it because I was laughing at my beautiful husband for one of his more ridiculous morning rituals. Typically I would have dusted myself off and gone on with the day, but my aforementioned husband finally made me promise to TELL him when I hurt myself or felt nauseated, because for three years he found out too late about some of my setbacks. (once my decision to keep my ill-feelings to myself led "setting my breakfast free" all over the windshield and dashboard while driving 70 miles per hour on Interstate 35)

It was clear that I had hurt myself, so I waited until I knew Baker was in the hallway and informed him that I had taken a spill ... he ran down the stairs and began quizzing me about broken bones, loss of consciousness and other concerned spouse questions. My fall, much to my dismay, awoke our housemate Crystal and she came down the stairs to check on me as well.

All of this attention made me regret my promise to Baker that I would TELL when I hurt myself or felt nauseated, so I stood up brushed off my backside and assured my kind husband and concerned housemate that I was fine.

The day went on from there, and somewhere along about 1:30 I started freely sharing with anyone within earshot that I had fallen down the stairs and was starting to feel it. Two nurses were around and started asking my questions about body parts I did not even know I had, and one sweet friend, Carol, asked if I needed to go get it checked out that instant to be sure all was well.

All of this attention made me regret having said a word about it to anyone, so I ignored the warning signs and continued on with my chores and tasks without noticing the ever-increasing burning in my lower lumbar. Soon the pain was such that I started feeling nauseated and could not pay attention to what I was doing.

It was clear that I was going to need some kind of medical attention, so we called a dear friend who we knew would work me in for an appointment on Monday afternoon. Baker already has plans on Monday, so we called Lindsey to see if she could cart me around and listen well at the doctor's office. Amazingly Lindsey was free and very willing to help us out. Joe called to see how I was doing and Karen came over to keep me company while I sat around grunting and complaining about "my back, my back".

This evening I am exhausted by all of the attention, but also overwhelmed by the sweetness of the people around me. Everyone was willing to help in whatever way they could ... so as I settle into bed and hopefully drift off to sleep I will dream about the way my community surrounded me today, like the mountains surround Jerusalem. I remember the wings that King David talks about in Psalm 91 that give hope to the ones in pain.

rebekah