Both Sides of the Fence
A Tosa resident since 1991, Christine walks the dog, raises kids, cooks but avoids housework, writes and reads, and works too much. A Quaker and
The Aging Maven, she has been known to stand on both sides of the political and philosophic fence at the same time, which is very uncomfortable when you think about it. She writes about pretty much whatever stops in to visit her busy mind at the moment. One reader described her as "incredibly opinionated but not judgmental." That sounds like a good thing to strive for!
American idle
By Christine McLaughlin
Tuesday, Jun 19 2007, 02:38 PM
Summers were slow when I was a kid. Seems like we spent most of our time lying on a hillside in the cool grass watching clouds.
That was when parents and children had separate lives most of the time. Back then, parents believed in the value of boredom as an incentive for building character and initiative. That is, if they thought boredom was a problem at all.
When you couldn’t stand yourself any more, you’d come up with something to do. You’d get on your bike or grab a book, wander around the neighborhood to find someone else who was also bored—or whose mother stocked popsicles.
But more often than not, like the divining rods in every cowboy movie of the time, we’d seek water.
In that regard kids in my eastside neighborhood were lucky. The Milwaukee River, various swamps and creeks, and Lake Michigan were within our range. That means we could get there under our own power. So much did we love the water life that on the rare days our parents (okay: our moms) drove us somewhere, the destination always involved swimsuits and parks.
When my own kids were little, some of our best times were spent with other moms, babysitters, and kids at Hoyt Park pool. We had the best part of “country club” life there. Lazy hours alternating between nearly dozing and playing, between the heat of the sun and cool of the water.
Okay: the cold of the water, since they didn’t heat the pool. We were tougher back in the day.
Where was I? Lazy conversations. Soggy peanut butter sandwiches. The coconut smell and sticky feel of suntan lotion. Rough concrete and wet towels. Squeals of baby laughter--then squalls when tiredness or hunger set in.
To hear some people talk, you’d think the pool was gang central. It wasn’t. There were some problems, and there will be again. But let’s remember what things were—and are--like most of the time.
I can’t wait for the present generation of parents and kids—and older kids and teens, seniors, people just taking a day off to breathe—to get back to relaxing at the Hoyt Park pool.
Something about being beside the water that just restores our souls.
