*When I was a little kid, I was often on my own on summer days. My parents both worked and I'd get up with them at dawn, have breakfast with them. My mom would pack a nice lunch for me to take to the park. But instead I'd walk off into the day, walking across the city, trying some new routes, for 3 or so hours, stopping to observe whatever, eat my lunch, then slowly walk back the way I came. That took care of my 6-8 hours of being on my own. Walking became addictive and I became a collector of maps. On weekends my dad would take me on strenuous hikes-- he never got tired, but was a meditative sort of person, so our hikes were blessedly quiet ones, with stops to look at a particular tree, enjoy a view, think about nothing,
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Stepping Out
*When I was a little kid, I was often on my own on summer days. My parents both worked and I'd get up with them at dawn, have breakfast with them. My mom would pack a nice lunch for me to take to the park. But instead I'd walk off into the day, walking across the city, trying some new routes, for 3 or so hours, stopping to observe whatever, eat my lunch, then slowly walk back the way I came. That took care of my 6-8 hours of being on my own. Walking became addictive and I became a collector of maps. On weekends my dad would take me on strenuous hikes-- he never got tired, but was a meditative sort of person, so our hikes were blessedly quiet ones, with stops to look at a particular tree, enjoy a view, think about nothing,