The World Needs More Dangerous Playgrounds
These days my kids play on ubersafe amorphous playground equipment manufactured by companies with fancy Scandinavian names. I picture these product designers with funny accents and masters degrees in behavioral psychology from Oslo sitting in Eames chairs squinting behind tiny rimless glasses contemplating the true meaning of "play". I'm certain there are reams of research to prove these cornerless playmeobas will spur our children's imaginations by giving them a self-governed, free-form play experience, but good god...what have we come to?
In the 1970's we played on giant rockets made of steel pipes and sheet metal and rivets. What was wrong with pretending we were going to the moon? It gave us a goal. And if you got your head stuck between the bars or you lost a chunk of your scalp on some protruding rusty bolt, well, you learned a lesson. The world isn't rubberized for your safety. Get used to it.
We weren't sheltered from the dangers of the jungle gym. None of my friends ever died from a merry-go-round accident (though there was that one kid that never talked the same). And look at us, now. We turned out okay.
I've got the scars to prove it.
