It’s time to reclaim the great outdoors!
I fondly recall those fine August days of my early teens. Swimming at the local beach, near Grand Bay, N.B. was a twice-daily endeavour. We would set out mid-morning, splash around until lunch, and then trundle home in bare-feet for soup and grilled cheese sandwiches or some other summer staple. Upon serving my mother’s obligatory “you have to wait 30 minutes before you can go swimming again,” we would once more head down the road, a mere five-minute walk, to the shores of the Saint John River.
It was so wonderful to have the sand and pebbles underfoot. Heated throughout the afternoon, the shoreline would send rippling heat waves into the air and the cool water was a welcome reprieve. We would be joined by neighbourhood kids and everyone simply had fun playing outdoors. Frisbees, water guns and inflatable air mattresses colourfully adorned our little piece of paradise. Our laughter was a hymn of thanksgiving for the gift of carefree summer days.
Aside from a parent or two who occasionally joined us, we did not have lifeguards or a line of buoys marking a safe-swimming zone. We did not worry about pollution or the ultra-violet index. We had a battery-powered transistor radio that played the latest hits and eventually a ghetto blaster that pumped out tunes from our favourite cassette tapes. We used our snorkels, fins, and masks to chase minnows, examine the bottom in search of hidden treasure and anything else our imaginations could conceive.
Passing boats and waving water-skiers, fair weather cumulous clouds, and a sky seemingly bluer than blue, are all images that surface in my mind when conjuring memories of those days. There were few fenced backyards. We could pretty much roam free. We either walked or rode our bikes everywhere. We played tennis and lots of baseball. We camped out in our backyards and drank water from the hose. We went home when we were hungry, when it got dark, or if our mother called us. If she used our middle name when calling out, we went a whole lot faster.
It seemed as though we were both expected and trusted to go outside and play. We made our own fun and, other than the radio or tape deck, batteries were not required. I am amazed and saddened at how radically this type of summer has changed in just a few decades.
Now we tag our kids by tracking them with cellphones. We all have fenced yards. Kids don’t really ‘go outside to play’ anymore. Rather, they are pressed into organized activities and have an appointment schedule that would rival most executives. We don’t trust other people. We fear for our kids’ safety. Yet, we let them live too much in the virtual world on gaming systems and electronic devices. It used to be the case in those earlier days that I knew all the families in the entire neighbourhood. Now we rarely get to know who lives next door. We have become insular, and perhaps to a lesser degree, xenophobic. For me this is a sad reality, and while some may argue I am romanticizing yesteryear (which we all know was not perfect), I think it is more the case of lamenting “paradise lost.”
The outdoors, whether beach or field, is still out there. Despite the rain, mosquitoes, UV index and air quality reports, there is ample opportunity to rediscover and reclaim the greatness of the great outdoors. St. Albert boasts a plethora of parks and recreational facilities and there are a few beaches in driving distance. Take some time this August to play and maybe even “go jump in a lake.”
Tim Cusack is often in ‘over his head.’
