13 February 2012
As a child growing up in the beautiful seaside town of Santa Barbara I remember having such freedom to roam. We'd ride bikes to the wharf to get the best popcorn ever from the old black man on the beach. We'd walk to town and sneak into the Arlington Theatre, famed for it's domed ceiling that mimics the night sky. With it's Spanish courtyard theme, it has balconies and mysterious, dark hallways that look down upon the seating area, perfect for running and hiding from each other. That was back when 75 cents could get you two movies and a cartoon. We had scuffles and negotiated truces with the kids on the next block. We were figuring out what we could and couldn't get away with. We were free. Free to go where we wanted. Free to do what we wanted. No adults. We were in charge. We had one rule: be home for dinner. I often think about the stark contrasts to how my daughter's generation was raised. As parents, there seemed to be this unwritten rule not to let our children play out in the front yard unsupervised for fear they would get snatched. We arranged "play dates" for them. All play and peer interaction never took place too far from an adult. How have these practices shaped this generation? At the very least they will not have the same exciting memories. I can't help but think though, they have missed out on much much more.
Free To Roam • Opuss № I