Let children be children again, and the rest of us a little more childlike, in the best of ways.
Have you seen by now the ad from Nature Valley, the granola-bar people? It has been making the social-media rounds this summer because it seems to capture something that’s well within our power to fix. It portrays three generations of three families talking about their childhoods. It seems quite obviously scripted, but it certainly resonates.
They are asked: “When you were a kid, what did you do for fun?” “We would pick blueberries, one woman says. “That’s so cute!” her adult daughter replies. Another woman recalls how they would plant watermelons and plantains in her youth. One man recalled his homemade toboggan. Another remembers a time when he was being chased by a bear after fishing.
The second generation then talks about playing with friends and using their imaginations — keeping themselves entertained with fort-building and hiding-and-seeking and the like. As with the first round, there’s enthusiasm and joy.
But then comes the current generation of children. They try making their best case that they even know what fun is, but without the same joy. They’re almost adamant, insisting they are happy about their lives. They’re unconvincing.
“Videogames.” “I like to go on my phone.” “Text.” “Send e-mail.” “My favorite thing to do in the world is definitely watching videos and playing videogames. Those take up so much of my time.” How much time? the girl is asked?. Three or four hours a day, she explains. “Five hours straight,” a boy explains. Another boasts, “Just last week I watched 23 episodes of a TV series in less than four days.”
“I would die if I didn’t have my tablet,” one of the girls then declares, beginning a waterfall of sadness peeking through. “Whenever I feel upset, I play videogames and I feel normal,” one of the boys explains. “It’s really wonderful.” Another reveals his story of isolation with his games: “I forget — I’m in the house I have. I have parents, I have sister, I have a dog. I just think I’m in the videogame. I completely get lost.”
That beautiful world includes a Blug and a Dally. You likely have no idea what either of those are — I didn’t until recently, when they appeared on my desk, the creation of Matthew Mehan, a high-school teacher and lecturer at Hillsdale College’s D.C. campus. He’s all about the liberal arts and their power to unlock the mind and heart and soul of a child at every point in their development — and about the adults who need to have the heart of a child to embrace the freedom to be courageously loving.
Mehan’s book is Mr. Mehan’s Mildly Amusing Mythical Mammals, which launches this month. It’s delightfully captivating and challenging in the best ways. It is excellent, as in a work of art that comes from the heart, that invites people into not only the world of mythical mammals but the fullness of life — the mystical life, even. It’s a book that beckons with its poetry and beautiful illustrations — a true collaborative effort between author and illustrator, whose friendship shows through. It’s a treasure for all of us who need a time out to refresh and remember who we are. Perhaps we never even knew.
Children don’t want the anesthetization the screens provide any more than we want that drug for ourselves, but it’s addicting.
It has its moments of melancholy, too, which resonate with the moment we are living through. The voices of those Nature Valley children were still haunting me as I flipped through the Mythical Mammal glossary and happened on the entry for “Blueberry Hill.” Mehan writes: “While there are many places with this same, common name, this very real hill is one uncommonly special to me — too special to describe in a glossary; I hope you have a special place in the woods where your heart and you can go now and again.” I stayed there and lingered for a while. That’s what these children are missing. That’s what not only the children are missing. It’s what we are allowing ourselves to be robbed of as we live our lives seemingly unable to look away from screens or the clash of a presidential tweet drama.
In the “Fine Print” section of his book, Mehan writes: “We all love lions, but we all hate pride. ‘Adult’ readers may well be denied. I suggest you try your best to become a child once more. Doing so will bring you through poetry’s locked door.” And as we are a little less distracted we will notice the childhood we are depriving not only children of these days, but ourselves. We need them to be in the throes of wonder as much as their precious hearts desire it. They don’t want the anesthetization the screens provide any more than we want that drug for ourselves, but it’s addicting. Especially when we live in what appears to be a valley of tears with no hope in sight, as it can often seem when we are inundated with overwhelming information constantly. Every bit of beauty can be a game-changer. Creativity taps into the wonder within all of us to live and love and explore greatness.
I’m not sure that Nature Valley ad makes for more granola-bar customers, but it may just inspire an adventure of rediscovery of the like Mehan has created, letting children breathe and explore and be children again, and letting the rest of us be just a little more childlike in the best of ways.
This column is based on one available through Andrews McMeel Universal’s Newspaper Enterprise Association.
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