Watching Play Time

 

Happy Birthday, Scott

The Superman to my Batman, the Luke to my Han

The McKinley Boys (Scott & Ryan), age 1 and 2 years-old, circa 1975

 

My "little" brother, Scott, celebrates the last of his thirties today but it does not seem that far past when we were running around the sunny streets of California in our shorts and tank tops. These days I don't get to see him often, but we had a good time during the years we had together. If you couldn't tell from the photo, we were attached at the hip during our younger years. My parents dressed us alike most of the time, probably because we were so jealous of anything the other had. Christmas presents, birthday gifts, treats all needed to be identical in order to avoid conflict, a concept that has informed me as I've become a parent to my own children.

 

This meant that when Christmas came around, our Aunt Sue knew to give us the same reversible Batman/Superman cape. What followed were hundreds of hours of Justice League swooping and swooshing, bam-ing and pow-ing, preceded, of course, with a debate about who would get to be Superman and who would have to settle for Batman. Those were great memories, Scott. I cherish them.

 

I mention this in my creative writing blog because watching kids play is a great way to reconnect with your own childhood memories. Those events, good or bad, can help us to tap into stories that no one could make up. Better than that is the fact that when children play they don't follow the rules we've come to expect in our adult lives. They invent rules, parameters, characters, all in a way that our "developed" brains could not fathom.

 

Of course a group of children can summon massive wells of creativity--a sidewalk becomes a dangerous lava flow; a pile of sticks becomes a den of poisonous vipers. But watching children play can give us insight about what they fear, what they desire. Most of the time, when Scott and I were playing we focused on the spectacular worlds of comic heroes and Star Wars. To me these worlds represented a bigger place with people and ideas that were far beyond the scope of my own existence and understanding, not unlike the protagonist Luke Skywalker (even though I identified more with Han Solo, 'cause you know, he was bad-a). I wasn't very athletic, so the super-abilities of my comic heroes allowed me to dream about what it would be like to have strength and agility.

 

What sort of things are children telling us when they play? Are they using their imaginations to pass the time, or are they allowing us to peek into the windows of their hopes and fears? Spend a little time at a park or playground this week and see if you can't suss out some of these characteristics for your own writing. If nothing is apparent, I'm sure you'll be inspired by something that transpires.