Once upon a long time ago, children played on asphalt or gravel playgrounds filled with tall metal swing sets filled with finger pinching chains and towering slides with two thin rails to guide a youngster up a dozen rickety steps. Those chains and rails froze little hands in December through February and roasted those same palms July through September.
Anyone afraid of heights would have been doomed to play foursquare or cling to red brick walls every recess. Those swing sets inspired the careers of many an astronaut and future jet pilot as boys and girls escaping wood and metal desks raced to be the first to claim a wooden slat or canvas sling. Once on board, wannabe acrobats pushed off and began earnestly pumping jeaned or bare legs to launch themselves into the stratosphere. Little girls wore shorts to keep boys from seeing their underwear as they flew higher and higher. After one achieved peak arc, you’d hear a shrill “Cowabunga” and see a frail body hurtling earthward in an untrained parachute landing fall position.
Wishful watchers stood beyond the contact zone, judging those gravity-defying acts with approving oohs and awes or derisive raspberries. Once that swing was empty, another brave soul positioned himself or herself for an arms wide, leg paddling leap toward the sun. Later in high school English, my memories of these playground flights made it perfectly clear to me why Icarus defied Daedalus and flew too close to that burning orb.
Not far from the swingset, other height and speed loving youngsters dutifully waited their turn to climb that towering slide. If they were lucky, the well-worn metal undulated in the middle, which added a little lift to those jetting down on cotton clad fannies. Other slides were straight shots to the ground and anyone zipping down with legs pressed together to increase speed had to be ready for the sudden landing at the bottom that often propelled them to a face plant in the dirt.
While teachers were on duty, swinging, twirling around metal side poles until we were dizzy, and sliding one at a time was the extent of our daring do. Once school was over and teachers left the premises, neighborhood kids showed up to challenge one another to all sorts of creative and dangerous feats.
More than once, I found myself inching my way across the cross bar that topped those old swings. It was doubly daring since I was often wearing a dress that caught in swing chains. Once at the other end, I’d maneuver myself over the edge and down one of the supporting swing set legs.
That slide offered other challenges. How many youngsters could form a train to go down that slick metal? The engine had to press both legs hard against the narrow sides to stay in place until everyone was in place. At the bottom, participants landed in a giggling dog pile or sometimes a crying mess if someone landed on someone else’s hand or finger.
One time, only my brother was available to slide with me. I had the brilliant idea to put him in front and tell him to hang his cowboy booted legs over each side. Before we started down, I put my arms around him and pushed off, anticipating the crash landing at the bottom. Imagine my surprise when he swooped out of my arms and over the side while we were still near the top.
Once at the bottom, I expected to see him looking like Humpty Dumpty on the pavement. Instead, I found him hanging upside down with one foot caught in the side stabilizing bar. I tried to reach him to tug him out of his boot, but this was a tall slide, and I was a little girl. I tried pulling him up from the top but that hurt his ankle too much. Finally, I had to leave him dangling while I dashed home to get our parents. Thank goodness, we lived within a block and our parents were able to lift him out of that trap.
It’s funny to look back on these adventures. Somehow over the years, I’ve lost every bit of thrill seeker that ever existed in me. In fact, standing on chair to dust a ceiling fan causes vertigo. Good thing modern playgrounds aren’t nearly as dangerous as they used to be so I don’t have to worry about my grandkids as they play.
