Staying Young

In the town where I grew up, there was a sign with a quote on it at the entrance to the recreation center that stuck in my mind. It read, "You don't stop playing because you grow old, you grow old because you stop playing." I remember wondering if that was true as a young girl in elementary school. It sounded like it might have some truth to it, and I suppose I gave it enough thought to have it stick with me all of these years.

When I think of the games that I played when I was young, there are a few that stand out. There was this game called "kick the can" that we played nearly every night during the Summer. If you've never heard of it, it's very simple. A bucket or can or whatever other object is handy that is suitable for the task is placed in a central location that is known as the base. A couple of people have to stay at the base and count while everyone else runs and hides under the cover of darkness. I suppose you could play this during the day as well, but we never did. Generally speaking, the area that was available for hiding was agreed upon at the start of the game. It might consist of one person's front and back yard or perhaps two yards depending on the size of the property and available hiding spots. One person would usually stick fairly close to the base searching the immediate area for adversaries while the other person would roam far and wide attempting to find signs of life. You might start with a great hiding place, but eventually you would have to leave the safety of that carefully chosen spot in order to make a rush on "the can". People that are discovered during the game have to be "tagged" before they are able to reach the can. If they are tagged, they are a prisoner at base until everyone else is captured or someone on their own team makes a successful rush on the can and kicks it before being tagged. When I think about it all these years later, it still brings a smile to my face. It sounds silly when I describe it now, but you have to have strategy, patience, speed and agility in order to be successful.

My friend Debbie was usually on my team and she almost always got captured in the early stages of the game. Debbie wasn't very fast or agile and apparently she wasn't very good at hiding either. She was fun though and I always went to great lengths to free her. She would try to distract the boys on the other team when she thought I was going to make a break for it. Sometimes this worked and other times it didn't, but it was hilarious to watch it all unfold from wherever I was lurking.

Initially I would try to choose a hiding spot that afforded me a view of both sides of the house so that I could visualize the yard on both sides. I would remain hidden as I watched the seeker like a cat watching a bird. At some point it was inevitable that Debbie would scream and dash towards the front yard and soon after that she would be tagged. Once the seeker had already given chase and was distracted and somewhat winded, I would make my first move. I would quietly move to a closer location and listen intently if I couldn't see the seeker that was after me. I knew that just because I couldn't see them didn't mean that they couldn't see me. There were times when I would suddenly discover that I was in a vulnerable position because I hadn't been aware of the seeker's movement until they were nearly on top of me. I would try to become one with the landscape and sometimes I had to hold my breath so as not to make a sound when someone was making a close pass. In the event that I was discovered, I would make a break for it and attempt to out-maneuver my opponent. One night when I was attempting to out-maneuver my opponent, who also happened to be my older brother, we were racing wildly towards Debbie's front yard and the can when my brother slipped on the grass and went careening across the gravel driveway and into the street. I continued on to the can, kicking it, and when I turned back to celebrate, my brother was rolling around on the pavement screaming that his arm was injured. Like most younger sisters at that age, I told him he was a faker and to suck it up because we were victorious. He protested that he was seriously injured and Debbie and I rolled our eyes. At least that was our position until he got up off of the ground and we saw his arm. His arm was broken and somehow victory didn't seem so sweet anymore. We had to go home and of course my brother had to go to the emergency room. While that is a particular game that stands out in my mind, most of the time no one actually got hurt and we had a great time. The grass would have fresh dew in it and the sounds of crickets and frogs filled the air. It was quite lovely actually and I'm sure I'll always remember those days with a smile.

Obviously I spent a lot of time playing a form of hide and seek while I was growing up.

I didn't play hide and seek or kick the can or any of those other games for many years afterwards. At least not until recently.

What I've come to discover is that I play hide and seek all the time. These days my opponents are wild animals and they are the most worthy opponents I have ever faced. Many of them hold special abilities that I don't have, which makes the game more tricky than ever. Many of them can fly and some of them are masters at remaining unseen. In the latest game, I am both the hider as well as the seeker at the same time. Sometimes I lay hidden for hours just waiting for a particular species to come close enough for me to get a nice photograph. Sometimes I'm successful and more frequently I'm not. The game requires a ton of patience and being a sore loser doesn't really seem like an option. While I frequently lose, I learn something new nearly every time I play. I've learned to read body language in various animals and I've learned to project certain body language depending on what I'm attempting to photograph. In this game that I play, instead of "tagging" my opponent, I depress the shutter button on my camera and attempt to capture that moment in time. Every time that I look at any of my photos, I can clearly remember the pursuit or the circumstances that led to that particular image. I can usually tell you what the temperature was like, what time of day it was, what the air smelled like, and perhaps some feeling associated with the capture. After many of these games, I have aching knees, arms, back, or any other number of misbehaving body parts. Sometimes the price is a sunburn or bug bites. This past Winter, I stayed hidden in a spot at the edge of Lake Washington for several hours in the freezing temperatures waiting for Trumpeter Swans to come close enough for a reasonable shot. I got some pretty good ones and I actually had to leave because I was shivering so violently that I really couldn't focus anymore. When I got into my car and my hands began to warm up, the pain was so intense, I thought I would scream. Thawing out was a painful experience that day. After I had warmed up and I had been at home for awhile, I emailed my friend Kevin and asked him if Trumpeter Swans were worth hypothermia. He cleared it up easily with his response. He said that they were absolutely worth hypothermia because I could warm up and I'd have the shots to enjoy for years to come. When I look at those shots now, I do feel a twinge in my hands, but I love remembering how close the swans came to me that day and how I was the only person around to enjoy them. Other people get to enjoy that moment with me when they view the images. People never know what I was going through at a particular moment that I capture a photograph. The animal and I are the ones that share that moment in time.

I'm still playing, and if that sign was right, it's keeping me young or at least I don't feel like I'm growing old.