I'm reading the book, Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv (I think Richard? I'm actually too lazy to walk into the next room to get the book). It came out a few years back. Its premise is that due to a number of reasons (fear of litigation, the Bogey Man, over-scheduled childhoods, the idea that nature should be left pristine for viewing purposes only, and so forth), children are no longer in touch with nature.
I read these statements and I nod my head. But then I look at my block and I think that even though we are in the city, even though the park across the street is one of those "look, don't touch, unless you're playing on approved fields or equipment" kind of parks, we are doing our very best to allow for this nature connection.
We camp, for starters. The older girls are in girl scouts, and as their leader, I'm making sure they learn about their environment (and not in the distant "save the rainforest" way, but in "this is an edible weed; this is a white oak; these are possum tracks" way). My yard is, due to laziness, mostly in a wild state. No pristine swaths of grass back there. The McAllisters have left toy dump trucks and shovels on the tree lawn for digging. Our kids build, and destroy, and build again, fairy houses--perhaps not the same as building their own treehouse, but they still learn something through this.
A couple of dads hunt. A couple others fish, and take their kids. Fiona will get her hunting course done this summer. We garden. I'm about 5 years away from chickens--that number fluctuates but it's not here yet. But our kids know where food comes from.
Daisy plays with these little centipedes that live in my open compost pile. Both girls know you can eat daylilies, but not Easter lilies. They know poison ivy and they have built dams on creeks and canoed down rivers.
But sitting at Irish dance the other night waiting for Fiona's class to finish, the topic amongst about 8 parents turned to vacations and camping. Many of the people there had camped as kids. I was the only one that still camped. Or had been to a state park even for a day trip.
And I realized this book wasn't for me, the woman with the book of knots sitting on top of the computer desk. And as Lisa put it in the comments over on my other blog, my kids aren't the last children in the woods but perhaps the last children in the world.
We live a good life here. I guess sometimes I forget how good.
Anybody want to live across the street from me?
6 comments:
I'd love to live across the street from you but I don't think we plan on moving any time soon.
yeah, your street's pretty awesome.
I'd like to live across the street from you, too; but I don't see that happening. :(
I would too... if only I could
People at my book group were discussing this issue somewhat the other night, but more in terms of "outside," the city kids noting that even if they weren't out in the woods, they had been outside all the time growing up.
I think that's just as important, frankly, if you don't have access to fields and woods, but you're outside, and not in an organized sport. Outside and left to your own devices to play with friends or explore or just be.
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