Nobody would call Grand Rapids, Michigan a recreational paradise. But I didn’t know that when I was growing up there. We played outside every day—in the front yards and back yards, on the sidewalks and streets. In the winter we pulled our sleds about a mile to Franklin Park which offered a wonderful sliding hill. I can still feel the excitement of steering my Flexible Flyer around trees on my way to a record finish.
Years later, returning to Franklin Park as an adult, I was surprised to see how that mountain had become a mole hill—which took nothing away from my happy memories. And I think of this when I walk past Hannah Park in Traverse City and see families sliding down its modest inclines. Of course Hannah Park offers the additional thrill of the Boardman River at the bottom of the run but vigilant parents are always on guard against calamity.
Listening to the shrieks of joy, I’m confident those children are having just as much fun as I did—and think their hill as steep. Which leads me to conclude that recreational paradises exists in the eyes of beholders—especially if they are setting records on their Flexible Flyers.