or a bean bag wrapped in a football logo;
and a console on which he tests
his brain, his precision and skill.
A static spot in which the adreanalin flows
as he pumps and pumps the console
until his brain and his reflexes are in trim.
But what if the boat were sinking,
or an Arctic winter came again,
or he was trapped on a cliff face.
Would he have the staying power
and the presence of mind to construct a survival plan?
Through the wild grass we ran,
Indians in the hills.
And as commandos, parachuted
from the promenade to the distant sand below.
Over boulders we clambered,
and steadied our gait on slimy surfaces.
And seeing and feeling the ravages of nature
learned to be fearless and know that you could survive.
And pell-mell we extended our legs
in pursuit of tyres rolling down hill,
and bicycled hand's free!
And swam before breakfast and before bed.
Make no mistake. He's my son and I love him.
But we were a part of nature.
And our bodies and our minds were trim.
Because - we played on the earth.
______
© Cormac McCloskey
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