The Back and Forth of Childhood

I feel like writing about swings. I don’t have anything profound or preachy to say, or some clever gospel metaphor to equate to the simple process of swinging back-and-forth. I’ve just been a little nostalgic lately and it seems that I cannot think about my childhood without a good old swing set coming to mind.

We had a little swing set/slide combination in our backyard when I was little. It was fine and fun for little guys. It had plastic flat seats and short chains.  (Although the metal slide had the ability to sear young flesh on a bright summer’s day.) That small set eventually gave way to a classic tire swing with a long rope hanging from a giant cottonwood tree.

But the swings that really made the impact were those at the park and at the Elementary School. They were much taller than our little set, with longer chains and the strap seats. That is where swinging became serious business.

The process was probably the same for all of us. A parent puts the toddler in the swing, and gently pushes, either to the delight or abject horror of the child. Eventually, the parent gets tired of pushing, and the kid throws a fit because they want more. That is usually the pattern until something wonderful happens.

Liberation. Learning how to pump – to self-propell – on the swing is a great moment in personal achievement for any kid. Suddenly, you don’t need anyone else to be able to swing. You can swing as high as you like, for as long as you like.

Swinging is one of our earliest feelings of freedom, and momentum. It is a tiny laboratory where we can test our courage at our own pace.

Eventually we get to where we can swing as high as we dared, and dream of the possibility of swinging so far that we could swing completely over the top. (Of course, this was before Mythbusters ever proved that you can’t do it without the aid of a rocket.) I know it never happened for me. I would swing higher, and higher, until the chain would begin to go slack, and the resulting jerk of the chain tightening would dissuade me from trying to go higher.

Learning to jump from a moving swing and gaining any significant distance, was a trial-and-error effort. But when the timing was just right, and you let of at the perfect moment – it was as close to flying as a kid could feel.

I never enjoyed leaning backwards and looking at the world behind me upside down. I found it disorienting.  I did, however, enjoy twisting up the swings with the person next to me and then letting them spin as they unwound.

(I warned you that this post was purely an exercise in nostalgia.)

The sensation of movement is with us our whole lives. From the time we are sloshing around in our mom’s amniotic fluid, to the rocking chair or porch swing that we might enjoy in old age, we find comfort in that rocking movement.

When I was a young dad, we had a baby swing. Wind-up. A good wind would get you twenty minutes of peace and quiet as it lulled the baby to sleep. By the time we were on our last FOML, the child swings had evolved to where they were battery powered and could go, and go, and go.

One of my proudest moments as a father was when I designed and built a swing set/playhouse for my kids in the backyard of our fist house. I look back at it fondly, and I hope my kids do too. I get nostalgic about those days, too. Having my little kids around. I need to get me some of those – what are they called? Right: Grandchildren.

As I was thinking about swings, I asked the youngest FOML if he ever swings anymore, or if the kids even swing at school these days. (I am sure that jumping is absolutely forbidden in today’s world.)

He told me that the only the little kids played on the swings now, and they get yelled at if they go too high, or jump off.

I remember getting yelled at for both of those things. That is why the best time to swing was when no adults were around. That is where you pushed yourself higher, and higher, and on occasion, knocked the wind out of yourself, or broke bones.

I’m sure there are countless studies about motion, swinging and rocking that explain why we spend our lives doing it. For me, I am at the age where I don’t spend a lot of time rocking, and I can’t remember the last time I really flew on a swing set.

Maybe if we spent more time swinging or rocking back-and-forth, we would spend less time feeling like rocking side-to-side, with our heads in our hands.