A wonderful invitation to speak at the PopTech gathering this week had me musing on the topic of remembering – more precisely, re-membering, putting things back together again. Maybe differently. Maybe better.
Within my own re-membering is the vivid childhood presence of our playground, built for us kids by the grown-ups of the neighborhood. There were endless games of box hockey, baseball, and our own invention, “roofball,” along with a powerful classic merry-go-round that would never make it through a modern safety inspection.
The playground was the first place that felt like my place – a spot away from home that I knew inside and out, better than my own parents did. I knew every person, every creak of the monkey bars, every worn-out scuff mark under the swings. I knew when the neighbor on the hill would summon her kids home with a duck call, and when the soda machine would be restocked with grape soda. I knew when the blackberries along the road were ripe, and when the fireflies would start flashing, and when the corn in the field beyond the park would be poached for Halloween “raiding.” What a gift, to know a place like that!
Dear friends, as we re-member the arcs of our own lives, let’s treasure the places and the people and the times that make us, us.
May the roofball match go on and on.
I call next up!
Short read of the week! Foster, by Claire Keegan. Spare and heart-rending and a beautifully printed new US edition.
Merry-go-round photo pulled from the internet, no attribution available.