Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Dear John


Dear John, or, um, Grand Coulee,


As with most breakup letters, this one may come as a shock, but I wanted you to hear it from me first.  Small towns being what they are, I began to get worried that you would hear it from someone else before you heard it from me.  So I wanted to set the record straight and tell you that although we’ve had our good times, its time for me to move on.  In short, I’m leaving you.

As cliche as it sounds, and I’m sure you’ve heard others spout this well-used platitude, it’s not you, it’s me.  Fortune and fate are leading me in a different direction and regrettably, I just can’t take you with me.  And although it may be hard for you to hear this, I’m not simply leaving you, I’m running away with another town, another whole state, if you are so desperate for specifics.  

But, really, I mean it when I say it’s not you.  You have been nothing but kind and nurturing to me during our time together.  Your lake has seen me splash in your waters, your shores provided sunny picnics and warm embraces.  Your buildings have sheltered me during your, admittedly, long and dark winters.  I know you’re not perfect, and I’m sure I’ll look back on some of those more pesky quirks with sincere fondness.  Such as the way the Electric City air raid siren screams on a semi-predictable basis, scaring the bejesus out of my daughter every time, and making me wonder what it is signifying this time: a fire? a national emergency? a city council meeting?  I’m sure I’ll reminisce with fondness about the long drives to the nearest big box store in search of something on my list that I just couldn’t find in town.  

But for all your faults, there are times that you can really shine, and I will take that brightness with me, regardless of how many other relationships...or, ehm, cities, I fall in with.  I’ll remember the cheery fanfare that surrounds Colorama weekend, and the majesty of the dam in all its seasons.  The sparkly lakes and gentle peaks were poetry to my eyes and the quiet and solitude of Northrup Canyon and Steamboat rock were music to my ears.  I’ll remember the way my husband so thoroughly enjoyed his job here at the dam, proclaiming he’s never had a better job and co-workers.

Perhaps most of all, what I will hold closest to my heart despite our imminent parting, is that now, whether you know it or not, you are a part of our story.  And not just mine, but my daughters’, who doesn’t remember a time when we lived anywhere else, and yet will probably never remember living with you here.  But for the rest of her life, Grand Coulee will be a part of her story, and therefore a part of who she is, and who we are as a family.  

And so, even though this is a breakup, and what are breakups except a bittersweet goodbye, I want you to know that you will be remembered.  If we had this time together in another era, I might give you a forwarding address so we could write letters from time to time.  But alas, it is not, no one writes letters anymore.  In fact, no one even uses the telephone.  And since text messages are too long for a catch-up, I will leave you with my blog http://daniellevick.blogspot.com.  If you are ever interested to see what I might be up to, you can check there, even if it is a little impersonal.

Even though this is a goodbye, and it’s possible we might not see each other for a while, or perhaps forever, goodbyes are never final.  There’s always the future to look to.

Thanks for the memories.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. April 17, 2013

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

No Kidding, Nature Deficit Disorder is real



I recently heard a term in passing that immediately peaked my interest.  At first I thought it was a made up psychological disorder or simply a catchy term to describe a growing problem.  But after doing a little research, I found that Nature Deficit Disorder is, in fact, a very real condition that can affect our children’s health and future.  


The term was coined in the 2005 book Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv and encompasses the growing disconnection the current generation of children experience with their natural surroundings and nature.

Two weeks ago I wrote my column about the benefits technology can have on children.  While I still think that this is true, keeping those screen time limits may now be more important than ever.  By stressing the importance of technology on our children’s future, are we subtly implying that other things, such as nature, are not important too?  

Louv makes it a point in discussing Nature Deficit Disorder that increased screen time is definitely one of the main problems in the growing disconnection with nature, but the real problem lies with parents.  Overprotective and over scheduled parents ignite in children a real fear of the outdoors.  By constantly demanding that children stay within sight of us, we may be imparting to them that nature is scary and unsafe, thereby instilling in them a disinclination to really explore and interact with nature.  

When children do get into nature, parents and teachers often tell children to “look but don’t touch.”  This mantra was introduced when our increasingly overpopulated planet began to infringe upon fragile natural places and protecting the environment became a mainstream idea.  But Louv argues that we are keeping our children separated from nature at a cost.  Children are very physical beings and thrive best when using all their senses.  Literally putting their hand in a pile of mud or running their fingers alongside the bumpy underbelly of a fern will do much more to develop a relationship with nature that simply looking at it could ever do.  

When we do succeed in tearing our children away from the screens, we tend to shepherd them toward structured outdoor play like soccer or baseball.  And while these are important activities for developing motor skills and getting good exercise, we should not depend on them as the only outside play a child needs in any given week.  A recent study by the University of Michigan studied children aged 3 to 12 over a 16-year period and determined that their free time declined by 7.5 hours a week and that outdoor free play was down 50%.  

Current trends forecast for the first time in human history that this generation of children will have shorter lifespans than their parents.  Much of this is due to the prevalence of obesity among our adults and children.  Recent numbers put 36% of american adults as obese and 9 million children.

But quality of life will also be different.  Children who experience Nature Deficit Disorder are more prone to attention and mood disorders, depression and even have lower grades in school.  A recent study at the University of Illinois proved that interaction with nature reduced symptoms of ADD in school aged children.  Conversely, other studies in California at schools that use outdoor education showed significant gains in social studies, science, language arts and math.

There is an organization pushing now to develop the No Child Left Inside Act, increasing environmental education in schools and in children’s lives across the country.  Their hope is that by providing education about and in the outdoors, it will naturally lead children to wish to explore it outside of school hours as well.

Although psychologists still don’t quite understand it, there is widespread acknowledgement that we as humans still need on a biological level the direct interaction with nature.  Some remnant from our hunter-gatherer existence, no doubt, but perhaps a good reminder that we were once very closely tied to our natural environment.  Now, the first stirrings of spring outside my window remind me that it is the season of renewal.  I can’t think of a better time to reconnect to that natural world.


Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington.  April 3, 2013