I was recently talking with some poetry friends—we were going over a poem about someone’s childhood memories. There were a lot of references to playing outdoors in this particular poem.
It occurred to me that the generations right now will have very different childhood memories than these poetry friends and I did.
Radically different in many ways.
Outdoor memories and modern-day comforts
The current and future generations will have far more indoor memories than outdoor memories. Possibly primarily indoor memories, even.
We in earlier generations simply didn’t have much to do indoors when we were children. And we certainly didn’t have as much homework nor so many electronic screens we were beholden to.
I recall that we didn’t even want to be indoors so much.
For one thing, the adults shooed us outside. And honestly, the house wasn’t set up to accommodate us anyway—the house was for the adults, and we were blessed with perhaps a little space of our own there. Maybe we didn’t even have to share it if we were lucky.
And without the now-ubiquitous, obligatory and over-used a/c, we were hot in the summers, and that was that. Going indoors provided no relief.
But I have a feeling that kids in cooler climates than my own were no less inclined to stay indoors when there were adventures to be had outdoors.
Even as teenagers, it was normal for us to recreate outdoors in any and all decent-enough weather. Part of the appeal was in being inaccessible, of course, which was pretty nice.
In contrast, the lure for the current generations to stay indoors is just about insurmountable a temptation. Unless they’re specifically involved in an outdoor sport, kids have little incentive to be outdoors nowadays.
The indoor comforts and conveniences are many.
The indoor obligations are many.
And the last few years didn’t help. Obviously.
So it occurred to me when talking about that poem with my friends that “Boomers” and “Gen-X-ers” are among the last to have a storehouse of “outdoor” childhood memories.
I’m not gonna lie, this rattled me a little
It feels sad to me. It feels like we’ve lost something.
Sure, I have a tendency to like old stuff, to reminisce, to swoon over the way an old house smells, to prefer classic quality over mass-produced newness.
But to be fair to myself, I’m not stubbornly clinging to a mythical past. I welcome open-mindedness and innovation. I welcome progress in human relationships and respect.
I also welcome things like contact lenses and my amazing laptop and the internet and being able to FaceTime with my adult kids.
I welcome big and bold design, artistic visionaries, architecture that blazes trails, and modern poetry that blows my mind.
I welcome the fact that I can enjoy pole dancing as a recreational activity—this option didn’t exist a generation ago, which, I suppose, is why I took ballet—it’s what made sense at the time.
Can we find a balance of outdoor and indoor memories?
I’m assuming things will balance themselves out because that’s what things do. That’s the nature of things.
I’m assuming we humans will figure out how to enjoy the conveniences and pleasures of the technological, “Artificially Intelligent” era while also remembering our connection to the dirt we live on, the air we take in for life, the trees and plants that nourish that air, the waterways that sustain us, and the stars and planets that guide us (even when we don’t know it).
I’m assuming that generations will come back around to having “outdoor” childhood memories.
I’m assuming that someday we’ll once again enjoy fresh air for the sheer pleasure of it, never mind that it provides for the breaths we depend on.
I’m assuming that one day, hopefully before too long, we’ll remember the restorative powers of fresh air, sunshine, and dirt.
I’m assuming and hoping that we’ll find our perfect balance between the mind’s inventions and the body’s connection to this beautiful, infinitely mysterious island home of ours.
