National Park and Recreation Professionals Day!

The day honors those who provide indispensable services for all people.

On this fourth annual Park and Recreation Professionals Day, we celebrate all who ensure our public parks and spaces are clean, safe, and ready to use!

A mother and child enjoy an outing in a local park. Photo: Visit Philadelphia.

The National Recreation and Park Association (NRPA), the nation’s leading advocate for parks and recreation, is proud to recognize July 15, 2022, as national Park and Recreation Professionals Day. Part of NRPA’s monthlong Park and Recreation Month celebration, themed “We Rise Up for Parks and Recreation,” this special day honors park and recreation professionals nationwide.

Park and Recreation Professionals Day originally began with the Pennsylvania Recreation and Park Society (PRPS) as a statewide celebration in 2019. Read the full concept of Pennsylvania’s Park and Recreation Professionals Day, as well as listen to this 2020 episode of Open Space Radio to hear Tim Herd, CEO of PRPS discuss the idea behind the day and how everyone can join the celebration: shorturl.at/bp048

“We are proud to honor and celebrate the dedication and strength of the people of parks and recreation,” said Kristine Stratton, NRPA president and CEO. “These individuals make up one of the nation’s most noble professions, and as their champion, we are happy to celebrate their hard work and dedication as part of Park and Recreation Professionals Day. To all of our esteemed members and colleagues, thank you for all that you do each day to make our communities healthy, equitable, and strong through the power of park and recreation.”

Park and recreation professionals and agencies across the country recognize the month with summer programs, virtual events, contests, commemorations and more. NRPA encourages people that support parks and recreation to share their park and recreation story, as well as why their local park and recreation professionals are important to them, with the hashtag #RiseUpJuly and #ParkandRecDay.

Whiffs of nostalgia

Some of my strongest sensory memories are connected to my growing-up years.

Snow in the air before it falls.
Corn growing after the rain.
Leaves burning in the fall.
Honeysuckle in bloom.
Fresh-cut grass.

Some scents are permanently imprinted on our sensory memory. Some of my strongest are connected to my growing-up years on the farm.

Mown hay drying in the field.
Green walnut husks.
Cow manure.
Tomato vines.
Wet dog.
Freshly-tilled ground.
Rotting roadkill.
Our cellar’s ground floor.
Straw bales filling the barn.
Pond water.

But so many are also connected to people and events.

Old men’s cigars at the annual Family Reunion.
Wood smoke and canvas tents at Boy Scout camp.
First Grade “Teacher’s perfume.”
Crayons, Magic Markers and Play-Doh.
Charcoal grilling in the backyard.
Mimeographed worksheets.
The ointment for shingles on my five-year-old legs.
Pencil shavings.
Shoe polish.
Mercurochrome on my cuts and scratches.
Pine sawdust.
The springtime woods.

The childhood memories these assorted fragrances conjure are always welcome. What scents are some of your memory triggers?

A legacy reminder

If I wind up turning into my dad, that’s the best thing I’ll ever do.

an older man's hand

This is my Dad’s hand, wearing his Class of 1945 Nazareth High School ring. It’s a timeworn hand, showing its large veins, wrinkled skin, and various spots. It’s the hand that held me, disciplined me, praised me, and raised me.

Dad would have turned 95 years old today. That his birthday so closely aligned with Father’s Day each year was always fitting to me because his life epitomized Fatherhood’s ideals and principles.

As I’ve gotten older, people who’ve known us both have told me I sound like him. I’ve caught myself speaking with his inflection, singing with his phrasing, even laughing like him. I’ve been known to spout his style of “Dadisms.” And if I wind up turning into my dad, that’s probably both the best tribute and the best thing I’ll ever do.

I’m on my way: the actual hand pictured is my own. And every time I look at it, I think of him.

Ma Nature on Mother’s Day

A couple of scenes from a delightful Mother’s Day walk around Shaver’s Creek Environmental Center on this beautiful May day! Lake Perez, marsh marigolds and skunk cabbage, American beech buds reaching toward the hemlock canopy, redbuds blooming against a blue sky, Tussey Mountain and the rain-swollen Shaver’s Creek itself. Not photographed: a trio of snapping turtles, a ground-shuffling ovenbird, and all the rest of Mother Nature showing off her springtime garb!

Mind the margin

May is Mental Health month. Do yourself a favor. Give yourself a break.

I used to have an annoying tendency to agree to anything that’s far enough in advance…

My bad habit would kick in whenever I looked at my planner and found a blank space during the requested time. Nothing there? Looks like we’re good to go!

Then the future would show up, and I’d discover that once again I’d overbooked my time, attention and energy—to my physical, mental and spiritual detriment.

You’d think I would have caught on quicker, but it took me several decades to learn to reserve the necessary margin I need in my life.

I’ve finally come to view such demands differently, even when my calendar is open, because I can honestly answer that I already have another commitment at that time—to myself!

May is #MentalHealth month. Do yourself a favor. Give yourself a break.

A short tale of curious boys

Carol and I ate at a Cracker Barrel restaurant tonight, where it’s like dining in a museum—or a barn—what with all the old stuff hung on the walls.

We were greatly entertained by a nearby family with two young boys. The older one, at about 5, reminded us of our oldest son at that age: endlessly curious, amiable, energetic, chatty, and just ready for anything—to the ultimate exhaustion of the loving mommy!

The young boy pointed to a portrait on the wall above our heads of a woman in the 19th Century:

  • Who is that? His mom was quick with a reply:
  • That’s the one who cooks and bakes all the food we’re eating.
  • What’s her name?
  • Mrs. Cracker Barrel.
  • I was wondering where the name came from.

We get it. Our Andrew once had so many questions about a box of Keebler cookies and where it came from that Carol finally answered: “It fell out of the sky!”

Months later, as we drove past the Keebler plant on Route 22 in the Lehigh Valley, that absorbent kid, who couldn’t yet read, pointed to the green and red logo on the side of the building and exclaimed “Fell outta the sky!”

Do you know these people?

After nearly a lifetime of attending meetings (and what feels like just as long in the virtual format!), I’ve come to identify some of the usuals who show up. How many do you recognize?

Strutters are quick to expound on their own past accomplishments in a semi-related issue; it doesn’t lead to progress, but at least everyone knows.

Techno-blanks can’t connect without help or multiple instructions, can’t see, can’t hear, can’t solve, can’t contribute; they may be apologetic, but we can’t tell.

Circlers can only lead group discussions back to the main starting point again and again, without allowing anything to actually be decided.

Sidetrackers love to chase down multiple tangents that lead away from the issue at hand to no practical progress; Circlers’ partners in time wasting.

Wallflowers are readily identified by no video, on mute. Noncontributory; there in spirit—maybe. If attending in person, aren’t really.

Busy-idlers are much too busy to actually be prepared to discuss or decide; they need more time and require others to waste theirs, and compel all to postpone action.

Verbal-fluffers feel the need to speak, but merely repeat, recap, revisit, re-phrase for long stretches at a time, and add nothing new—but with passion!

Yessers agree with anything and everything, but add no further insights or obligations; they’re kin to the Cheerers who encourage everyone else, but aren’t in the game themselves.

Contrarians’ ultimate fulfillment is to demonstrate their superiority in pointing out where all the problems are; they are much less concerned with actually accomplishing anything.

Distracteds steal away from the meeting to “multi-task,” and catch up on emails, phone calls, social media, or just about anything else rather than to bring full attention to the meeting purpose.

and the rarest breeds:

Connectors build relationships in and out of the meetings toward mutual objectives, enlisting energy, insights and synergy.

Stokers supply the steady fuel of assets and resources to be invested in progressive action; they are keen to empower and contribute to move ahead.

Propellers bring energy, ideas and forward momentum to solve problems, build collaborations and reach goals.

Who are the members you want on your team?

Nurturing a Child with Asperger’s Syndrome

While the drama was undeniably amusing at the time, it’s a great example of one of the mistakes we made—and the lessons we learned—in nurturing our son’s personal development as he grew up.

“I’m just going to go across the road and… DIE!”

So declared my then eight-year-old son, who has Asperger’s Syndrome.

What caused him such overwhelming agony that he felt he simply could not go on?

I moved a forsythia bush in the yard from there to over there.

And while the drama was undeniably amusing at the time (and required pains to hide it), it’s a great example of one of the mistakes I made—and the lessons I learned—in nurturing my son’s personal development as he grew up.

As mainstream recreational programming widens to welcome more children with special needs, and the real opportunities to raise these children’s future prospects grow, I humbly offer some of the simple strategies my wife and I learned in raising our young son, which may help in providing a more nurturing aspect to your programming.

1 Practice coping mechanisms. Aspergers kids often suffer from sensory overload, detecting every sight and motion, every sound and smell, every texture and sensation. Our son was unable to tune out the background clamor most people don’t even notice. Because it’s not possible to control all surroundings, we introduced and practiced coping mechanisms that helped him manage the overload. Things like deflecting anger with humor, providing a safe place of retreat (very important!), and teaching him how to read facial expressions helped him cope when tensions ran high.

2 Pick Your battles. Because he needed social interaction, but would never choose it on his own, we limited the battles on that front to just two that did him a world of good: Boy Scouts with its outdoor adventures; and marching band with its required precision that appealed to his mathematical mind. Knowing what’s really important, rather than what’s merely a preference, helped us focus our care where he needed it most, and avoid needless confrontations and frustrations.

3 Provide stability. Aspergers kids love their ruts. That’s where they’re comfortably ensconced. They’re happy there, with no need to ever change. Routines are important. Rules are important. So as much as possible, we provided stability at home with our routines and consistency in enforcing rules.

This youngest child of four shared household chores with his siblings. Saturday was yardwork, Sunday was church. Every evening at 5:30 the whole family sat down together for supper. And after we were done eating, we lingered together to share in a variety of subjects—from listening to a piece of music to discussing current events to admiring artwork, or something from science, history or literature. One springtime we read the entire book of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer aloud in small segments after supper. Provide stability.

4 Prepare for changes. You thought you hated change? Try being an Asperger’s kid with absolutely zero tolerance! Here was my mistake in moving the bush: I never warned him. While he was at school one day, I decided on the spur of the moment to transplant the shrub. It was already a done deal when he got home. NNNOOOO!! He simply could not cope with its suddenness. His life was over. The only thing he could do was to go across the road and die!

We learned to prepare our son for changes that will come. One year, we had a great three-week vacation at the end of the summer. When we arrived home, we realized, “oh, yeah, school starts next week.” What! A! Disaster! From that episode we learned to prepare him for transitions. “Son, school starts in 4 weeks, 3 weeks, 2 weeks, next Tuesday…” “You’re going to have to start wearing pants again soon instead of shorts, because the days are getting colder and you’ll freeze your buns off!” Prepare for change.

5 Persevere in unconditional love. No matter the depth of his meltdowns or how he acted out, our love and acceptance as a vital part of our family was never questioned. We approached it from this truth: “Son, you have an amazing gift in being able to view the world from a unique perspective—and you will find purpose in it. Hang in there. We love you intensely!” Persevere!

So for those who have or are working with young children on the autism spectrum, I offer this encouragement and hope: My son —the physicist with a Master’s degree in nuclear physics!—is now working two research jobs with Penn State. Hang in there! It’s hard to predict the ultimate destination of these kinds of adventures. But you have both the opportunity and the ability to make a difference in these children’s lives and their futures. My absolute best to you!

Longest tenure

I aim for a lasting legacy out of ambition to finish well: to enable those who follow to lead larger, to achieve wider, to soar where I cannot.

Earlier this week, I achieved my longest tenure in any one job of my whole career (not counting the years I owned and operated my own business).

In my earlier days, I switched jobs fairly frequently, due to changing circumstances and opening opportunities. But it was that very scheme that stretched my skills and expanded my experience, all to my future benefit—even these decades later. Each new position I started seemed custom-made to employ all I brought to it and challenge me for further growth.

And while my current position is quite fulfilling, this longevity is no laurel wreath. Instead, I yet aim for a lasting legacy—not for ego, nor for pride (…well, maybe a little!)—but more out of ambition to finish well: to enable those who follow to lead larger, to achieve wider, to soar where I cannot.

Some observations from the top of the far side of the hill

I’ve discovered peace is not the absence of conflict, but a condition of my spirit.

atop Steptoe Butte, Idaho, a thousand feet above the rolling hills of the Palouse area

It’s been a quick trip to the view from here.
The climb’s not been easy, nor predictable.
But here I stand amazed, a “senior.”

I’ve traded time for experience, and mistakes for learning.
I’ve gained strength, but lost endurance.
I’ve won wisdom, but lost patience.
I’ve raised hope in discouragement, and grown grit from defeat.

I’ve found that storms may cross my paths,
But don’t determine them.

I’ve seen tolerance harden to intolerance,
And pride swell to arrogance.
I’ve seen hate multiply and evil strut.
But I’ve watched kindness repulse anger,
Character rise undaunted,
And virtue stand uncowed.

I’ve lost money, but invested in family.
I’ve cried in sorrow and grieved in pain, yet laughed again.
I’ve been mistreated, ordeal-sharpened, and test-refined.
I’ve played and fought, joked and argued, lost and won.
I’ve screamed, offended; and apologized, repentant.

I’ve added girth, assembled wrinkles,
And grew perspective.
I’ve failed repeatedly,
But fewer than my tries.
I’ve wrestled with my tongue and temper,
And learned to carry more tunes than grudges.

I’ve discovered peace is not the absence of conflict,
But a condition of my spirit.

I’ve known sicknesses, but not all.
I’ve enjoyed health, but not always.
I’ve prospered in relationships, but also in regrets.
I’ve seen a lot, been through a lot, and loved a lot.

This privileged, age-afforded vista,
From this spot on not-quite-over-the-hill,
Reveals a journey far from perfect,
Yet a scuffle worth a life invested.
It satisfies my seasoned eyes, my slowing body,
An agile mind, and a grateful heart.

© 2021