Nerf Ground

Nerf Ground

As we honor the disappearance of the sidewalk and the passing away of the front door, I’d like to call your attention to the nerfing of the playground. When I was young, the playground was once the location for the children to gather, a place to exist free from the tyranny of the elders. It was a place where the youth coalesced to form their own social order while playing on rusted metal contraptions of possible death.

The swings didn’t have leg holes. The chains weren’t coated by rubbermaid. The merry-go-round wasn’t just a ride, it was a vomit inducing machine. Yes, for the practical child’s mind, one could simply see see-ing and saw-ing in a see-saw. But for the dreamer, the one who transcended simple thought, who preferred an imagination of infinite possibility that shot for the heavens, the see-saw was seen as a body launching machine. And the tire swing was a short range weapon used on an unsuspecting passerby. And the monkey bars, sure they were made to monkey across, to swing like a chimpanzee from one side to the other, but for the evolved human child who wasn’t interested in regression of the species, these bars were slim stepping stones on which to walk, scratch that, run across.

The tire swing, the jungle gym, see-saws and monkey bars used to rest upon a bed of sharp gravel which would embed in our skin as we tackled each other to the ground playing, Kill the Carrier. But the classics I grew up with have been retired and replaced by plastic slides, plastic pirate ships, plastic coated chain suspended plastic swings. The new plastic playgrounds rest on beds of shredded rubber tires. We’ve told the kids “no tag at recess,” and offered instead an opportunity to never scuff their knee while they play around in our recycled petroleum byproducts. Is it any wonder why the children would rather play Kill Zone 3 on the Playstation.