Labor Day is here again as I celebrate the end of the day summer chaos to the parents, I also can’t help but feel a little winded. Did I make the most of the summer? Or, more importantly, have I made lasting memories for my children?
The answer to that, I think, is yes. But the memories aren’t found in the ice cream scoops, the rides at the county fair, the hours of pool time and picnics, or the (shockingly expensive) songs and encounters they had at camp. I believe that over time these simple pleasures will become part of a happy and balanced childhood, but it’s not the kind of thing they look back on and say, “remember when …?”
“Remember when” moments are a different type of fun – Type 2 fun.
As former editor of The Father Julia Holmes explains in his wonderful article in memory and travel, there are different levels of enjoyment. He writes: “The ‘fun scale,’ which began to circulate in climbing literature and the media in the 1980s, divides outdoor fun into three broad categories. At one end of the scale is type 1: You expect to have fun and then you do (a day at the beach). At the other end of the scale is type 3: not even remotely fun, where disaster strikes again (where disaster never happens). absolute fun, the kind of fun that pushes you past yourself again It (hopefully) brings it back to you in a better state – stronger, happier, full of new appreciation for comfort and company.”
Type 2 pleasures are the stuff of memories. When we tell a great story about a journey or adventure – one that should be retold for a lifetime – there is usually a limit to it. There are obstacles overcome, there is a sketchy or scary moment, there are lessons learned.
I think about type 2 entertainment all the time. Like distance runner and cyclist and as an outsider who remembers the first time experiencing hypothermia fondly (it’s a fun story!), I welcome such “fun” and try to bring my children to it. As a father, I know that summer, the kids out of school and the weather cooperating is a great time to follow.
So, as we look down on Labor Day, I wonder, how did I do?
This summer, if you’re going to look at my 8-year-old’s knees, I think some memories were made. Every day we walked the trails and roads and pumped the trail to ride the bike. There were crashes, tears, and an incredible amount of getting back on the bike with my chin held high. One of his favorite stories to tell was actually from last summer when we were mountain biking together, attached, tandem style. It was hot, the buggy, and we had had a small crash (or two) on the rocky road. At one point, there was a line that required you to ride your bike, single file, over a small cliff. I asked my son to go to the other side and wait, it is better for him to watch as I pushed the long tandem bike the wrong way on a narrow ledge, I lost my balance and, instead of falling 20 meters down into the forest, I threw the bike and leaned against a rock. I braced myself as the bike crashed below. Thirty minutes later, we were back up and on our way again – with a story to tell.
For my older child, I may have worked hard on type 2 fun this summer. I offered to pick up my kid and his best friend from overnight camp and take them on their first backpacking trip this year. I marked maps, packed food, set up our tents, stoves, water purifiers, lamps, and sleeping bags for a three night, four day hike. The Long Way in Vermont. The most serious climbing would take place on day 1, leaving the rest of the trip to climb, out and back, to give them a taste of one of my favorite pastimes.
Gods of Type 2 fun had other plans. First of all, the parking lot on the map wasn’t where it was supposed to be, so we drove through country roads to the next lot, miles away and downhill from the planned start. In the new parking lot, there was a sign informing us that the shelter had been moved a few miles away. In short: A good trip turned into a terrible trip. Three days, 18.34 miles, and 4,698 feet (up!) later, the kids refused to camp out for the third night in the woods, wanting to get straight into the car and find a hotel. We do just that. I stopped for milkshakes along the way, but somehow, years from now, I don’t think the jolt of the truck stop is what they’ll remember from their time on the Long Trail.
This weekend, I think I’ll take the family to it Coney Island. The kids will grab hot dogs, we’ll all ride the Ferris wheel, go down the beach and share the breeze. We’ve made enough memories this summer — and everyone needs some unforgettable fun.
