Froggin' On a Sunday Afternoon

The joy of discovering we haven't lost this generation yet.

Photo by Jack Hamilton on Unsplash

I suppose most my age reflect on their childhoods with at least a modicum of wistfulness. Although, honestly, we tend to remember our youth with more reverence than it deserves; we seem to remember the good over the bad. Moreover, every generation believes that theirs was the best and wonders what has gone wrong with the youth of the day.

But we had such freedom! Riding our bikes over the dirt hills left after a new foundation was to be poured, pretending that the large culvert pipe leading to the creek was a secret passage way to a new world or a hideout for spies, climbing trees and getting scuffed knees when we jumped off, or laying in the field staring up at the clouds. For hours each day, whatever we did was done with imagination and exploration.

We lived and survived without technology. A cow bell was our text to come home. When we didn’t ride our bikes to a friend’s house to see if they were allowed to play, one rotary dial phone in our kitchen was used sparingly to call friends to see if they were available.

Nature was everywhere. I rejoiced when my siblings found baby rabbits hiding under one of our bushes. Not knowing better, we gently pulled them out to pet them. At night, the raccoons and opossums would make their way through our yard. As cute and cuddly as they may have looked, we were never allowed to approach them with the eagerness of the baby bunnies.

We lived near a man-made lake filled with varieties of fish, crayfish, and frogs. With our bamboo poles we tried our best to catch and release. I admit to many a time when I didn’t pull the line up quick enough, and the poor fish ate the hook. RIP. But when done correctly, our catches were put in a red, plastic bucket half-filled with lake water. There we could observe their sizes, colors, and movements in the hopes we could identify fish on our own without repeatedly having to ask our father.

As the song says, “We had joy, we had fun/We had seasons in the sun.” And I believed that those seasons were behind us. That is until a few days ago.

It was a perfect July day—sunny with few clouds in the sky, warm, and breezy. Winston, our corgi, and I were taking a walk around a man-made pond a block from our house. Yes, I know, Freud would have a great deal to say about the house my husband and I had built in a subdivision much like the one I grew up in. Regardless, Winston and I were on our walk, and we noticed two middle school boys at one end of the pond, bikes laying in the grass, and quietly fishing side by side. No cell phones. No music. No social media. It was such a lovely sight that brought back memories.

As we approached the other end of the pond, there were two elementary school boys with nets. They were frogging. One was reaching so far, I feared he would fall in. But as we inched ever closer (corgi’s legs are so short), came such a loud shriek of happiness that Winston became skittish. The boys caught their version of the white whale and beamed with pride.

So excited and not wanting to lose their treasure who might escape from the net, one boy held the frog underneath its frogpits. They sprinted toward the two fishing while squealing with excitement, “We got one! We got one!” The froggers raced each other to be the first to tell their tale of conquest to the middle schoolers.

The poor frog would end up having a story of his own to tell once released. For as they ran, the frog’s head was straight up and back legs jostled solidifying the fact of Newton’s first law. I don’t know enough about frogs, but I assume that its stomach was churning.

What amazed me was that these boys were allowed to be unencumbered by watchful adults in a country whose 24/7 news cycle raises fear. They were able to enjoy summer break the way we used to enjoy ours. And one day when their own kids cry of boredom, they will share what they did on lazy, summer days.

As technology continues to improve and become entrenched in our lives, hopefully, over time, nature and technology will co-exist without technology superseding the joy of catching fireflies, roasting marshmallows, or sleeping under the stars.

Once adults, these boys won’t remember their scores playing Mario Kart. But they will gleefully retell the time a friend almost fell into a murky pond just to catch a frog, thus spurring their own children to have grand outdoor adventures of their own. May the wonderment of childhood continue.