tumbledry

Thrive

My father grew up in Rochester, Minnesota when it was considered the best place in the United States to grow up. Anchored by IBM, his neighborhood thrived during post-war prosperity; neighbors got together to make a pool — he recalls them pulling their lawn hoses out to it to fill it at the beginning of the season. Summer afternoons gave way to late nights of playing and inventing every game. Similarly, my mom grew up running about a safe and happy neighborhood, caring for the wild cats who befriended her and her siblings, driving Honda dirt bikes fixed up by her father in the field across the road from where they lived. Come to think of it, I don’t know as many stories as I’d like from my parent’s childhood.

But I can tell you about my childhood: it was the best any kid had anywhere and I would do anything, sacrifice everything for my kids to experience something similar.

I grew up in Woodbury, Minnesota when it was one of the fastest growing towns in the United States. Such building and developing gives any place a palpable sense of optimism. All eyes turn to the future, no decay to overcome but simply dreams to realize. Yet, this was only the backdrop. Like my parents, I whiled away my days outside. Summer looms large in my recollections of childhood. Basketball games to 100, by ones and twos. Kick the can. Pick-up football behind John & Steve’s house. Street hockey in front of Matt’s. Making funny videos at Nils’. Richard, with a pint-size golf course made with neighbors in backyards. Justin’s house perched on a hill, with an awesome classic car in the garage, awaiting a restoration I dreamt of watching. Some truly great sledding hills. My mind wanders the halls of memory, picking up and examining extracted essences of experiences: birthday parties, sunburns, passing the house of a crush, running trails, goofing off on tennis courts, mosquitoes trapped in sweat, playing until you couldn’t see the basketball anymore, and that funny feeling of summer loafing when your friends were gone on vacation and you made plans for when they returned. Kool Aid. Trying to keep the summer alive by playing after school before homework on those warm September evenings.

As Mykala reminds me, I grew up with a truly exceptional group of friends. They gave my youth a shape and a substance and a completely safe place, something I can never lose and for which I am ever grateful. May my children have the same.

Brief Notes Nearby