Our Gang

I was not an outside kid. I did not spend a lot of time traipsing through the woods. That doesn’t mean I was vitamin D deficient. I ventured into the sunlight.

I loved football and the occasional trip to the playground. Nannie and I played two-person baseball in her backyard. I won countless championships with nine ghost players beneath the basketball goal in the parking lot at Maple Springs UMC. Mama and I were always welcome at Uncle Larry’s pool.

I did not live in front of the television. Pac Man was not the dictator of my free time.

Don’t feel badly. My childhood wasn’t lacking.

For the most part, I was on stage. Practice. Rehearsal. Repeat. I’m not sorry. I learned a LOT.

I prefer the inside. Folks unfamiliar with theatre, music and dance may not understand.

We weren’t huddled in a corner with a Ouija board. We weren’t lighting candles and smoking cigarettes.

It was a good thing.

I said all that to say this…

I’m not a huge fan of the outdoors. It’s hot. (Unless it’s cloudy and snowing, it’s hot.) Bugs and critters. Hiking. I don’t want to eat outside. Picnics are not romantic. I know nothing about camping, except the possibility of getting eaten by a bear is exponentially higher than it is if you stay inside.

Here and now. The virus. Shelter in place. I can deal with this. It’s not so easy for Sophia and Miles.

Our children are outside people.

Bicycles. Basketball. Soccer. Runs. Hikes. Exploring the woods. All that stuff.

I do not want our children to do-over my childhood experience. They cannot live my life, nor Vikki’s life, again.

Sophia has to live her life. Find her own passion. Discover her gifts. Make friends. Create memories.

Miles has to live his life. Find his own passion. Discover his gifts. Make friends. Create memories.

Well… our bouncing baby boy and girl are forging friendships in the neighborhood. Good for them. We’re delighted.

In the midst of these unprecedented times, good things are happening.

Families are cooking and eating together. We’re learning how to play board games we didn’t have the time to play before. People are using athletic equipment that’s been sitting in the garage far too long.

Sophia and Miles are out of the house for hours.

Last night, during our nightly walk around the neighborhood, I watched “the gang.”

There are seven. It’s kinda like the United Nations. Diversity at its finest.

Four boys. Three girls. Two Hispanic, two African-American and three Caucasian kids. Four houses.

Bicycles. Scooters. Easy-Rollers. Hoverboards. Roller blades. Roller skates. A unicycle.

Age-wise, they’re all within a few years of each other. They look after one another. They exchanged Easter cookies and cupcakes.

They are moments of “The Boys vs. The Girls,” but there is no finger pointing. There is no “We vs. Them.”

A trampoline in one yard. A primitive club house in another. A soccer goal and a basketball goal. Sidewalk chalk. They share walkie-talkies.

We don’t remind them to stay apart. They monitor themselves. They play in cycles. When two retreat for lunch, the others shift to a different location and the adventures continue.

Everything is outside. No video games. Imagination and freedom and respect and responsibility.

It’s the kind of behavior for which all parents hope and pray.

I wish the adults in the world would follow their example.

It’s not hard.

Our kids are in a gang. Our gang. And we couldn’t be prouder.