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Points Of View
written by: Hart Dowd
Points Of View
Why does a boy climb a tree?
A tree is a challenge.
It represents a quick means of escape - not from a wild animal in these days to be sure, but from the solid earth of which we sometimes tire!
The exhilaration of the climb is that old but natural urge to get to the top - to see further - and to dream apart from practical things.
Trees are friends that give pleasant shade in which to have a picnic, pitch a tent, or throw quoits, They have a part in all glad, outdoor times - and after a storm in which a great tree falls, we are even more impressed with the actual volume and weight which was, until now, balanced perfectly in the air above us.
Then there is the happy sound of children’s voices as they climb –the excited shouts and gleeful calling as a new plateau is reached. Why does a boy climb a tree? We can only surmise. Like ascent in life – the going up is good – it is invigorating.
The view from up there is new, and the sensation of looking at earth through lower clouds from a plane has something in common with it.
The return to earth is more difficult. It requires the utmost care and agility to avoid a fall, and that good barefooted thud on Mother Earth is sweet again. It may also be associated with a call to meals...to change clothes...or even bedtime, who knows?
Surely a tree is a boy’s (or a tomboy’s) good friend. If the family suddenly moves to a new neighbourhood, a new state, or a new country – there is always a familiar tree to stretch a child’s aching heart around – and new trees to explore.
In a distant place, and long ago,
We played such games as, "Go-stop-go,"
"Crack the whip," and "Run sheep run."
Our days as kids were filled with fun.
We didn't need a lot of stuff,
Just sticks for play-walls was enough.
Sometimes we'd find some broken bricks--
We thought up lots and lots of tricks.
With dirt and water, mud pies we'd knead.
We'd stock our store with bugs and weeds,
Put colored rocks into a jar,
And sell them at our "candy" bar.
When we were tired of playing "store,"
We formed two armies, declaring war.
Or else we'd play a round of jacks,
Our marbles, stored in sox, for sacks.
"Anti-eye-over," a favorite game,
We'd play it, and play it, and play it again.
And sometimes, as a change of pace,
We'd mark a field off, base by base,
And have a scrappy game
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