Mark KennedyView other columns by Mark Kennedy
When I was a kid, "summer boredom" wasn't a thing.
There were always storm drains to explore, Wiffle balls to hit, bream to catch, giant SweetTarts to gnaw, bike ramps to jump.
Even on rainy days, there were "Gilligan's Island" reruns to watch and endless games of spades to play. To earn money for new sneakers, there were yards to mow and gutters to clean.
No, I never remember being bored, except for an occasional Sunday night church service when I would fall asleep then startle awake and kick the seat in front of me, resulting in several church ladies whooping and doing a baby version of "the wave."
Summers seemed to fly by.
Our sons, on the other hand, wake up on summer mornings bored. As a kid, I jumped out of bed, instantly cheered that it was "still summer." Our guys seem disappointed if there's not a cruise-line-quality itinerary slipped under their bedroom doors each morning.
Despite our best efforts to provide them with play dates, team sports and enrichment activities, the boys can become irritable if there aren't enough planned activities throughout the day. Part of this, I think, is due to the fact that the school year is such a whirlwind. Summers, on the other hand, can feel empty.
Another part of the problem, I must say, is a middle-class sense of entitlement.
Last weekend was a good example. On Friday night I took our younger son and one of his friends to the see the hilarious film "The Secret Life of Pets." On Saturday night, we took the boys to an exciting Chattanooga FC soccer game. Then on Sunday we went to see Cirque Du Soleil at McKenzie Arena.
When I was a kid, any one of those outings would have been the highlight of my summer. But by Sunday afternoon, my younger son was asking what time the circus would be over that evening. I realized, to my amazement, that he was anticipating being bored for some small portion of the night.
"Why don't you just enjoy doing something fun and don't worry about what you are going to do later?" my 14-year-old son intoned.
I could have hugged him.
Thinking this through, I believe there's more going on here than meets the eye. When I was a kid, our neighborhood had its own kids' culture. We planned our own cross-country bike rides to buy Icees. Some nights we slept on the ground outdoors. Every day there was a game of Wiffle ball Home Run Derby, and every night there was a neighborhood game of hide-and-seek that lasted until well past sundown.
Meanwhile, our parents often didn't know - and didn't care - what we were doing, as long we answered the call to dinner. If we had said we were bored we would have been told, "Go play in the yard."
In the 50 years since I was a kid, too many parents - me included - have come to see their children as recreational pals. When we draft our kids as leisure-time companions, it's little wonder they look to us for entertainment.
Children who have a neighborhood full of friends to sustain them through the summer months are the lucky ones. Parents who raise "free-range" children are brave and smart.
Meanwhile, we parents who try to script every hour of the summer, reap what we sow.
Left to themselves, kids will make their own fun. Sometimes parents just need to back up, be quiet and get the heck out of the way.
Contact Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com or 423-645-8937.