I took the grandkids to one of their favorite playgrounds this weekend at Cape Henlopen State Park. It's a place where kids' imaginations can run wild.
While I watched them playing, I noticed a sign stating the safe rules for use of the playground. I'm sure they have to be posted for legal reasons. And I agree that safety should come first.
The warnings included no walking up the slides and no jumping from the swings.
Parents were warned to check equipment to make sure it was not too hot to cause burns.
The most ominous statement on the sign warned parents that if the playground was installed over a hard surface there was a chance for serious injury or death. Mulch was used as the base for this playground.
It caused me take pause and think about playgrounds when I was a kid – and even when my daughter was young. There were no warnings; it was every child for himself or herself.
A lot of the equipment at my elementary school playground was built on top of asphalt – including those infamous metal monkey bars. No one thought too much about skinned knees and ripped pants. I know I had my fair share.
Occasionally, someone took a fall from the monkey bars, but I can't recall any serious injuries.
We all climbed up the 10-story – seemed like it to us – metal slides and didn't care how hot they were in the summer. Burns were a badge of courage.
We had contests to see who could not only swing the highest but also jump the greatest distance.
When I was a kid – sounding old here – we played outside from sunrise to sunset – and even beyond. We camped outside under the stars in fields in the neighborhood. Then we dug out an underground fort in a dirt mound being used for construction and camped out there.
And here's one that will blow your mind. As a young teenager, my friends and I hitchhiked from Seaford to Laurel to work at the Auction Block.
Growing up in the 1950s, 60s and 70s, one can wonder how we survived – no child seats or seat belts; sitting in the front seat of the car; playing outside all day with no supervision; breathing second-hand cigarette smoke; riding our bikes with no helmets; not wearing sunscreen; and walking or biking to and from school on our own.
It’s a different world.
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Ron MacArthur has lived and worked in Sussex County all his life. As a journalist for nearly 50 years, he has covered everything from county and town meetings to presidential visits. He also has a unique perspective having served as an elected official and lived on both sides of the county.
Contact Ron at ronm@capegazette.com
