I grew up in Claypool Indiana, a small farm town covered on all sides by cornfields and small patches of woods. It was a typical small town. The kind of place where everybody knew everybody. There was a good amount of kids in town my age and we always had something to do. Most of all, we played to get dirty and loved every minute of it.

One day, while at school our teacher took us outside to the playground, but as we walked across the grass I realized we were going beyond the playground grass and running track to the steel gate that led to the woods behind the school. We were learning about native plants and collecting different kinds of leaves. I remember wondering what else there was to see beyond what the teacher had shown us. I’ve always been curious about what may be farther down the path or what treasures could be found out there where not many wondered.

Turns out, I wasn’t the only kid that had been curious about this patch of woods and where the creek ran to. I’m not entirely sure what grade that was when we first went out there, or how old I was, for that matter. Oddly though, I recall that first trip outside of school out to those woods very clearly.

During the summer the neighborhood kids and I would ride our bikes down to the entrance where the tunnel ran under the road allowing the creek to pass through. There was a place big enough to park a car, but I don’t recall ever seeing a car there. We would first spend some time messing around by the tunnel, because tunnels are just completely fascinating when you are just a kid, and I don’t think that’s something that ever dies in a person.

Beyond the gate there was a somewhat mowed path to walk down. I never knew who actually owned the property, but never once were we ever ran out of there in all the time I spent out there. Eventually, the mowed path disappeared and became raw untamed woods.

There were always signs of other people that had ventured back there like empty worm containers, pop cans, beer bottles, and other various kinds of trash. This was something that annoyed me even when I was a kid. Even something so simple like a small patch of woods and a creek wasn’t safe from the all mighty trash heap us humans create in our daily lives. You see it everywhere, no matter how nice or decent the place may be there is always that asshole that thinks the Earth is his or her dumping grounds. As kids we would make use of certain things we would find out there to help us along in our adventures.

I recall one particular time, not sure who was all there that day, we found some fishing line and hooks that we rigged up to try and catch fish out of the creek with. We found bait under leaves and rocks to use on the hook. It worked to a point, and we ended up catching a few little mud guppies off  the bottom.

For a young boy and his companions there was just so much to see and do out there. I remember seeing one of the neatest things one day out there by that creek. It was the first time I had seen a doe and her fawn up close. They had come from the field off to the right of the creek. Both mother and fawn walked in the creek then noticed us all standing there watching in amazement. They stood very still staring back at us until finally they were spooked and took off running out of sight.

We would spend hours out there building tree forts and playing war games, climbing trees, and walking barefoot in the creek. It was a place a kid could go and just let loose and be the kid he was meant to be. Parents never went out there, that I know of anyway, I know for sure mine never did.

Now I sit here looking at thirty-five hoping like hell my kids have somewhere like those woods to romp around and be free in like I did. It seems it’s a fading world out there so full of hatred and nonsense when it could be as simple as taking off your shoes to feel the gritty sand in your toes and whacking sticks together for amusement. These kids today are never satisfied with the video screens we as parents keep feeding them. I try with everything I have to show my children things to do outside with nothing at all but a few sticks and rocks. One can only hope it sinks deep in their roots and lives on until they teach their children the simplicity in this world.