I’ve related this before, but people ask to recall it again. I was sitting on the back porch of a friend’s house waiting for her when I first noticed it. A flood of youthful memories washed over me. The worn green lawn behind the wrap-around porch sloped down to end at a huge, elderly tree with a large limb arching sideways to hold an old-fashioned swing.
The swing had a wooden seat with two indentations that allowed a frayed rope to be threaded through it, and the seat tilted to one side. It looked lonely, abandoned and neglected; I would imagine its only visitor was the soft wind that sporadically pushed it back and forth.
I’ve seen similar swings in back yards before when I have driven along rural roads in the countryside. But you rarely seem them today, and that’s a shame. They are a thing of the past; today’s swing sets come with jungle gyms, forts, you name it, the more complicated the better.
Years ago, when children played outside, that lone swing was a great motivator for a child’s imagination and creativity. A kid could twirl around and pretend to be a pirate or princess. We traveled to far-off lands and journeyed over hills and mountains. We met kings and queens, and pretended we had magic powers. Adventures on ships and castles were boundless and lasted until we were called for dinner. Back then it was thought that fresh air invigorates the mind, so there was no limit to who we were and dreams we held for the future.
Oftentimes, my friend next door would come running over after school and we both would squeeze onto the one wooden seat and push off, going higher and higher, screaming and laughing at our foolishness. Sometimes we sang our favorite school song and talked about our first-grade teacher and how we wanted to be just like her. Every little girl with their new school experience wants to emulate her teacher. We plotted and planned.
Yes, the grass under that swing was well worn; it had worn down to dirt from the scraping of our shoes along the way. The only frightening part was when my older brother would show up and pretend to be reasonable about giving us a push. Often, we were terrified at the idea that we would end up flying through the atmosphere, which I’m sure would have delighted him and his friends. Only our blood-curdling shrieks would bring my mother to the back door. Hands on her hips, it just took one look from her for him to stop.
But children grow up. They get taller, older, some might call it mature, and move on to other adventures. It’s like that song, “Puff, the Magic Dragon,” who lived by the sea in a land called Honah Lee and played with little Jackie Paper. And then one grey day, Jackie came no more and Puff ceased his fearless roar.
Yes, dragons live forever, but not so little boys. And that paper kite faded; Puff’s head was bent in sorrow as he played no more along the cherry lane. And this is a lesson for all of us. We need those simple, bygone experiences and more of that plain, old-fashioned thinking.
I know with all the new technology, it’s easy to get caught up in a race for quick, easy information. But in my opinion, we also need that quiet time to think, rest, leave those heavy burdens behind and just twirl around on a lonesome swing. Things seem clearer then. Life seems tolerable. Everything stops, and you can live in the moment.
And in light of recent fearful events, it might be prudent to open our eyes to what is important. So, take a ride on a wooden swing and let yourself go back in time. Life and all its trials will sort itself out, even if it does sound simplistic.
-
Nancy Katz has a degree in creative writing and is the author of the book, "Notes from the Beach." She has written the column Around Town for the Cape Gazette for twenty years. Her style is satirical and deals with all aspects of living in a resort area on Delmarva.
