Ring the Bell for Recess:
Why Grown-Ups Need More Time To Play

Cindy La Ferle

“It is very difficult to be stressed in a treehouse.” – David Clark, author, Ultimate Treehouses

It wasn't the designer showcase model for treehouses - but something about it appealed to my inner child and made her envious.  Painted park-bench green, the simple plywood structure was perched high under the branches of a lofty evergreen in a neighbor’s wooded backyard.  A red ladder leaned invitingly against its narrow front door.

Square footage-wise, the building was barely large enough to hold four small kids sitting cross-legged on the floor.  Still, it wouldn't take much imagination for its lucky owners to use it as the center of operations for secret agents, or maybe a hideout for mutinous aliens from Jupiter.

Best of all, the crafty neighbor who’d built the new treehouse had placed it at the farthest edge of the yard, making it the perfect retreatfor plotting, napping or daydreaming.

Driving with my teenager last summer, I cruised by it slowly for a better look.

"Hey, wouldn't it be cool to have a treehouse?"  I asked, waving toward our neighbor’s yard.  My son looked at me as though I'd just asked him to wear his bathing suit to church.

"You’re way too old for a treehouse, Mom," he said, dropping his voice another octave. 

Too old for a treehouse?  Says who?

Not Diane Ackerman, author of Deep Play (Vintage; $13.95).  Perfect reading for an early summer picnic, Ackerman's delightful book is a celebration of play and its colorful social history.

"Deep play is a refuge from ordinary life, a sanctuary of the mind, where one is exempt from life's customs," she explains.  Ackerman points out that many creatures, including dolphins and human beings, are wired to learn important lessons while playing - long after they’ve matured.  Furthermore, she writes, the best opportunities for creative play "are hidden in the most unlikely or humble places.”  And she’s not talking about video games in the basement.

Ackerman claims that our need to engage in imaginative play - whether we prefer puttering in the rose garden or crafting a collage - is as natural as our need for sunshine.  “We can lay aside our sense of self, ignore pain, and sit quietly, watching the world’s ordinary miracles,” she writes. 

Sadly, most grown-ups are conflicted about play.  In our workaholic culture, the word “play” carries all sorts of mixed messages.  To play with someone's emotions is cruel; to play at something suggests laziness.  And how many of us advise our kids to stop playing around and get down to business?  For most Americans, time off remains a guilty pleasure – a stolen afternoon on a golf course or in a deck chair when we "should" be toiling at the office.  We’re praised and rewarded, after all, when we look busy or competitive or productive.

Riding my bicycle around the neighborhood yesterday, I was stopped by a neighbor on her way to work.

“Hey, it must be nice to have time for a bike ride,” she shouted from her car window.  I knew she was only teasing me - yet I felt compelled to justify my break from a writing deadline.

“I have to get back to my desk by noon,” I hollered back, trying to sound urgent and important.  Why couldn’t I just admit that I’d come out to play?  Even though I knew better, I peddled home feeling as if I’d been caught playing hooky.

“Our daily routines are stacked with chores, commitments, and too many requirements,” Ackerman reminds us.  And sometimes we need to shed our obligations to feel fully alive.  Time off will ultimately make us healthier, happier, and more productive people.

And that’s why every grown-up needs a bicycle - or a treehouse - and a bright yellow permission slip for recess.

Cindy La Ferle is a nationally published author in Royal Oak.  Her award-winning essay collection, Writing Home, is available in bookstores.  (Proceeds are donated to organizations serving the homeless in Oakland County).  Visit www.laferle.com for more information, or write to cindy@laferle.com.