Be Nice Or Leave.
-Thank You.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Swings



Sarah and I were headed for the St. Petersburg Museum of Fine Arts. Why? Well, it was Free Museum day, after all.

We had taken the long way downtown to avoid the perilous one-way streets that I hated so much. We were driving along the water’s edge near William Straub Park when we noticed large groups of people in purple; an Alzheimer’s walk. Keeping at around 20 mph for cause of the many pedestrians, we slowly made it to the Pier parking lot. We set off from there, having only about a quarter of a mile to walk. We bobbed and weaved between the crowds on the sidewalk, all the while chatting and laughing at little oddities in ourselves and everything around us. Sometimes we looked up at the sky and wished for clouds. We were sweating already in the Florida sun.

Passing the old fashioned light poles and manicured crepe myrtles, we were about to overtake the St. Pete Museum of History—our planned destination on the way back—and saw a small artist’s market set up on the lawn. We walked by, but promised each other to visit before we left.

We neared the Museum of Fine Arts. Now, for any who aren’t familiar with the area, the first thing you notice about the Museum is an ancient kapok tree—low, thick limbs splayed out and inviting to those vulnerable to a wind of free-spiritedness. Sarah and I had climbed the tree many times, examining dozens of carving left for us and testing the limits of our balance. It’s a wonderful, exquisite tree, and beloved by all hearts.

Today, after pausing to pick a hibiscus from one of the bordering bushes, Sarah squeaked and pointed to the tree.

There were two swings hanging from one of the lowest branches. Together we tramped through the grass towards the canopy and examined the two painted planks. One had “Swing Life Away,” traced on it, the other something that I can’t quite remember. Beaming and giggling, we swung contentedly together and watched passersby glance over, sometimes smiling at us. Eventually Sarah moved on to climbing, while I sat and watched both her and the sky through the canopy. There in the shade, we were happy.

We only abandoned ship when we spied a hoard of kids charging at us. I gave up my swing for a couple of little girls, while Sarah slid down to make room for the boys. We smiled as we did it; it was just as nice to let the kids enjoy something like that as to have it for ourselves. Teenagers we may be, but Sarah and I shared a concern for the little guys. We wanted to give them things that we were stripped of as the dawn of the new age of lawsuits washed in—things like old plank swings and seesaws and dirt, things that our parents had and wanted us to have, too. But over-protective, lawyer-happy stinkers had done away with these little joys.

So we left them to enjoy while they could, though we could hear the sharp hissing and yelling of parents as we walked away.

The museums were wonderful. Free Museum Day is ranked among my top five favorite days. But once we were done with the exhibits, we made our way to the little market again. We strolled around the tents with paintings and bracelets and hand-made soaps, waiting to see something worth ogling at.

We found it at a booth with a banner displaying the logo, “Swings Tampa Bay”, where a man in his early 20s came amicably up and asked if we had heard about the group. Turns out, they were the ones who had put the swings under the kapok, and so he immediately earned my respect. The group hangs swings randomly in the middle of the night, sometimes invited, sometimes not. They do it to invoke the exact emotion that Sarah and I had felt when we saw the two earlier: glee, serendipity, and love for the community.

The young man invited us to come paint a swing, all for free, for them to hang somewhere. I chose a green one and Sarah a purple. They’re simple things, just a plank of wood with holes for the rope, nothing like the rubber ones that made it difficult to fall out of which we had grown up with. The simplicity makes them better. Remember that, toy makers of the world! Kids don’t need flashing lights or gizmos or loud sound effects! All we want are swings and seesaws and dirt.

Sarah painted flowers and, “Let It Grow” on hers. On mine were little swirlies and my favorite Owl City quote, “Let Felicity Fly.” I thought about keeping mine and making the suggested $20 donation, though the group volunteers, (mostly young men in their early twenties with, I must say, refreshingly good manners) hinted at letting me take it for free. But we both let them have our creations because we knew they’d find a better place for them than we would. But before we left, they took a picture of us with our sings. Sarah held hers upside-down. On purpose.

We left. But the group stuck in my mind and I felt the need to write about them. I would never have guessed that the idea of swings would prove so uplifting (no pun intended). Those swings make you stop to sit for a moment, maybe rifle through a few memories, perhaps letting your toes drag through the dirt. You just stop and sit. You smile. You giggle. You fall off sometimes. But that’s living! That’s what we’re missing from our withered lives! A chance to do nothing! A chance to be happy over something as simple as a swing!

I’m planning on going to paint another swing at their next event on Oct. 15th at the Fine Arts Museum. This time, I’ll take mine home and hang it in my backyard. When the fall breeze comes, I’ll sit out there and be happy.

You really should come. We’ll save a swing for you!

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