nature deficit disorder

Note: if you are any of the following, you’ll want to skip today’s post:

a) a human child

b) someone who doesn’t enjoy human children

c) someone who’s in a stage of life where what human children enjoy isn’t particularly relevant.

You’re dismissed! See you next time.

Everyone else, come celebrate with me the simplicity of playing out in nature with a child…and a stick.

Yes, a stick. No, not to throw–that’s dogs, people, not kids. (Unless you’re talking bridges and streams, in which case you’re playing Poohsticks, and don’t let me stop you!)

When I was a kid, my favorite solo game (when my older sisters refused to play with me) was Stick Dolls. Take a stick. Dress it up in leaves and flowers, using grass for a sash. Name it.* Game on.

*Often flower names like Lily or Violet–but I definitely had a long-lived pair named Beth and Roger.

Fast-forward 40 years to now, when I am Very Much Not a Kid. My own are grown, but not (yet, if ever) in grandkid-production mode. So of course I’d forgotten all about Stick People…till I got myself a Little Sister.

Well, technically, she’s my “mentee” and I’m her “mentor,” through a program we have here on our too-small-for-official-Big-Brothers/Sisters-organizations island. But it’s the same thing. We meet once a week and hang out, cook, do crafts, and PLAY.

Guess what our favorite game is?

Meet Rose Stick–always stylin’.

Guess what my heart was doing the first time I taught my little girl about Stick People?

Yeah. It was SWEET. That was two and a half years ago. Rose Stick has gone through a few iterations, and developed a family: little sis Daisy, big brother Bill, and parents Rainjewel and Bob. (My lil’ girl saves her creativity for the gals, it seems.) But Rose is very much herself. Some days all she does is forage for tiny food to serve on bits of bark or seashell. Other days she chases bad guys who try to kidnap her sister.

But the whole time, Rose Stick is helping me teach my little girl about nature. Dandelion hat? Absolutely–dandelions are an invasive weed. Calypso orchid hat? Nope–that’s RARE.

Salmonberry blossoms? Absolutely!

But these little beauties are off-limits.

And Rose’s bedding? Moss and lichen are only OK to use if they’ve been kicked loose by someone else’s feet; no picking. They’re slow growers, vital to the ecoweb.

Who knew this stuff was even more precious than flowers?

Anyway, that’s it–this post is just me sharing my joy at rediscovering my inner Flower Child. And wondering…anyone else play like this? Or see their kids do so? Please share a story!

Hey, I’m back. Just spent a wonderful four days wandering with my besties from high school through Olympic National Park–which should be called Olympic National Parks, it contains so many different ecozones. From the giant cedars and spruces of the rain forest to the wild waves and fantastical drift logs of the Pacific beaches, from the azure shores of Crescent Lake to the glint of Blue Glacier shining across to Hurricane Ridge–all in four days!–we luxuriated in accessible diversity and diverse accessibility.

And I noticed something I’ve noticed many times before in national parks. We met lots of people–people of all colors speaking Dutch and Chinese and Hindi and English. Except the English speakers were not exactly ALL colors. We met very, very, very few Black folks. And that reminded me of this article I’d recently read on Al Jazeera America.com about just this topic.

According to the article, my perceptions are sadly borne out by statistics:

According to a 2009 survey by the University of Wyoming and the National Park Service (NPS), whites accounted for 78 percent of the national parks’ visitors from 2008 to 2009; Hispanics, 9 percent; African-Americans, 7 percent; and Asian-Americans, 3 percent.

When compared with their share of the U.S. population, white park visitors are overrepresented by 14 percentage points, whereas African-Americans were underrepresented by 6 percentage points. Whites are overrepresented not only as visitors but also as park employees. According to a 2013 report by the nonprofit Partnership for Public Service, 80 percent of NPS employees were white. And the National Park Foundation’s 22-member board, whose mission is to support the NPS through fundraising, has only four minorities.

The article goes on to emphasize that this issue isn’t simply one of Black folks not being particularly drawn to natural beauty. Ironically, the National Park Service itself appears to be contributing to African Americans’ feelings of unwelcome in our parks:

Last month we learned firsthand about the racist mistreatment of African-American park visitors during a scholarly event at Yosemite National Park in California. By inviting a diverse group of women to the park, we inadvertently carried out a study of racial profiling by park gate agents.

As part of our event, eight female academics — four of them white or Hispanic and four African-American — drove into the park. The organizers told participants not to pay the entrance fee and to inform gate agents that their fees were waived because they were visiting the research station.

The white and Hispanic drivers gave the agents the information as directed and were welcomed and waved through. The four African-American scholars entered the park at different times and entrances and gave the same information. In all four cases, the African-American professors were extensively questioned, made to fill out a superfluous form, which required extra and unnecessary effort and a check-in with the research center staff, and reluctantly let into the park.

One of the black professors was questioned about her college degrees, the title of her research project and her university affiliation and was asked to provide a faculty ID. The agents appeared incapable of imagining that a black woman could hold a Ph.D. and visit a research station for a scholarly event. (The Yosemite National Park Service has since opened an investigation into the incidents.)

I’m glad to see that Yosemite is investigating this incident. I hope the whole issue gets more attention. My recent re-affirmation of a lifelong love affair with our national parks reminds me: these parks belong to ALL of us. But until ALL of us go there, they won’t be truly national.