Where the wild things are...

One constant, no matter the economy, weather or season, is that boys will be boys. My two oldest sons are true examples of the rough and wonderful world that adolescent males live in. Their world is ruled by monster trucks, fishing trips and wrestling matches. They survive on peanut butter and jelly, chocolate milk and cookies they sneak from the counter. There is no worry about coordinating clothing, what color socks they are wearing with what color shoes or whether their hair is combed or teeth are brushed before heading out the door, in fact if it's a nice summer day they really don't mind running out the door wearing nothing at all. Boys will be boys.


In this world of hand sanitizer, plastic coated sealed and sterile everything, GPS on every dashboard so Heaven forbid we won't end up in uncharted regions and cell phones connecting people 24/7, I wonder sometimes what "wonder" there really is left for my boys out there. How far are we really apt to let them roam and explore when we can get online and find in five minutes any sex offenders lurking out there in our midst? How long a leash will we allow them when the news is filled every night with stories of abductions and murders and monsters? In this over sanitized and sensationalized world we live in how far can I let my boys go to explore the world they are growing up into? Are there really any wild places left within the reach of their grubby little hands?

I remember my childhood all too well. I would pack up a bag with my fishing gear, pocket knife and a canteen and head down the road to the nearest farmer's pond, creek or woods a few miles away. Sometimes I road my bike sometimes I hoofed it, but it was me, alone. I was probably 10 to 12 and had the freedom to just head out and explore. I was blessed to live out in the country and had what seemed like limitless range of woods, fields and water at my disposal. There were "hunting" trips with my trusty Daisy BB gun and my dog Spike that were every bit as exciting as anything Ted Nugent ever sang about (minus the big game) and fishing trips that found me in ownership of more fish than I could carry home, let alone fillet and cook. Yes, in my pre-teens I could actually clean a fish. My father taught me well. I'm sure if hunger required it today I could still do the job...but I have to admit, it would take a lot to make me do it. The sense of convenience and cleanliness has overcome my wild side.

I remember hiking for hours in the woods finding old trails and sometimes just making my own. Exploring long forgotten hunting shelters and junk piles that always held treasures of some kind or another. My parents didn’t worry about me (much) and I had no fear of anything except maybe the occasional muskrat trap. I was independent and free. It was my own little "Into the wild" experience played out again and again throughout those golden years before varsity sports, the opposite sex and a driver's license clouded my pubescent brain.

If I could go back and feel that freedom and wonder again for just one afternoon, I would give almost anything to do it. I want to be able to remember it well so that it can hold equal weight to all the fear I have now of what might happen if my boys explore past my grasp. Just maybe if I remember how much it meant for me it'll be enough to push me to let go, just a little, so that they can feel the same way I did. Free to explore. Free to find their own paths.

I don't know if my parents were intentional about it or they were just happy to have me out of the house for a few hours, but I am forever grateful to have had the chance to go out and explore the world around me. I hope I have the courage to do the same for my boys. I hope to experience it with them and teach them what I can remember about it, but mainly I want them to experience it for themselves and tell me about it in their own words.

I want them to feel wild and appreciate the world the way it was before we safeguarded and sanitized it. That raw and dirty world is the one I want them to get to know, filled with fish scales and sparrows and even some poison ivy, scrapes and scratches. I just hope they find it before it’s gone, on their own terms, just like I did. I'll even share my old canteen with them just as soon as I can find it.