Month: February 2023

I am glad I have rights. I firmly believe, however, that rights are not sustainable without responsibilities. I have especially been thinking about human rights in the broadest sense since I interacted with colleagues at a recent leisure studies conference.

Human rights are a huge idea. The contribution that a field like leisure studies that encompasses sports, arts, tourism, and community recreation is worth considering. I am grateful for the rights that I have related to leisure as well as daily living.

The Bill of Rights is the first 10 Amendments to the Constitution. It spells out Americans’ rights in relation to their government. It guarantees civil rights and liberties to the individual—like freedom of speech, press, and religion. It sets rules for due process of law and reserves all powers not delegated to the Federal Government to the people or the States. It specifies that “the enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.”

Because I have a right does not mean that I must exercise it. The second amendment guarantees me the right to bear arms. However, I do not have to own a gun if I do not want to. Rights enable individuals but they do not require participation. Rights offer freedom to choose. As noted above, however, rights portend responsibilities. If I own a gun, I have the responsibility to make sure it is safely stored and not used to hurt others. One can draw examples from all the other rights in a democratic society.

A was a contributor to the recently updated Charter for Leisure adopted by the World Leisure Organization. Leisure is a human right, which was established by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights endorsed by the United Nations in 1948. The articles recognize the right to rest and leisure and the opportunities to participate in the cultural life of the community. With these rights comes the obligation to recreate responsibly doing no harm to self or others. These responsibilities should be widely advocated and practiced.

Leisure has sometimes been debated as a privilege or a reward rather than a right. As a retiree, I see rights in all those ways but also believe everyone should have the right to leisure regardless of their status in society. Nevertheless, rights are a complicated idea and I continue to ponder what they mean.

I am having problems with hiking/snowshoeing as fast as I used to. I attribute it to asthma and aging. I sometimes doubt my stamina on longer hikes. Recently on one of those walks, I recognized that I needed to be positive about my ability. As I lagged behind, I remembered my favorite childhood story, The Little Engine that Could. My attitude and ability began to change.

This American fairytale by Watty Piper became widely known in the United States after publication in 1930. I remember my mom reading to me when I was a little girl, and I appreciated her admonishment to me that I should and could be like the little engine. The abbreviated story goes like this:

A little railroad engine was employed in a station yard for such work as it was built for, pulling a few cars on and off the switches. One morning it was waiting for the next call when a long train of freight-cars asked a large engine in the roundhouse to take it over the hill. “I can’t. It is too much a pull for me,” said the great engine built for hard work. Then the train asked another engine, and another, only to hear excuses and be refused. In desperation, the train asked the little switch engine to draw it up the grade and down on the other side. “I think I can,” puffed the little locomotive, and put itself in front of the great heavy train. As it went on the little engine kept bravely puffing faster and faster, “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”

As it neared the top of the grade, which had so discouraged the larger engines, it went more slowly. However, it still kept saying, “I—think—I—can, I—think—I—can.” It reached the top by drawing on bravery and then went on down the grade, congratulating itself by saying, “I thought I could, I thought I could.”

An analysis I read suggested this story is about cultural relativism. The trains each believe they are doing the right thing based on their own values, and these stem from the kind of work they do. For me, however, the analysis teaches optimism and hard work.

Positive psychologists might suggest that a better affirmation would be “I can.” I guess I like the notion of the challenge thinking that one can be successful in difficult situations. I appreciate the bravery and commitment of the little engine that could. It is a new mantra for the opportunities in my life today.  

In the musical, Paint Your Wagon, a song is about the wind called Maria (Mariah). The lyrics:

“Maria blows the stars around and sends the clouds a’flyin’.

Maria makes the mountains sound like folks were up there dying”

People in Estes Park call the wind much worse names than Maria! In the winter, Estes Park is unusually windy.

Years ago, before I moved here, I struck up a conversation with a middle-aged woman during an organized hike in the park. She remarked that her family had moved to Estes Park three years earlier, but they were moving back to Texas at the end of the summer. I was taken aback because it was my dream to someday live in Estes Park. She said they simply could not stand the wind. I really didn’t know what she meant.

Having now lived here for 9 years, I do understand. After my first winter, however, I vowed that the wind would not deter me from going outdoors. It is obnoxious some days, but I have learned to dress appropriately—wind doesn’t get through Gore-Tex jackets and wind pants over long underwear.

In addition, I am learning where the wind resides. I have a list of trails that are “less” windy than others. The wind usually is greatest near lakes and on top of mountains. If you live where you can see Longs Peak, you will likely live in a windy area. Tolerating the wind is a small price to pay for the beauty of that 14,000 foot peak. I embrace the wind and am grateful when I am out of it.

A recent article in our local newspaper explained the reason for winter winds in the Estes Valley. The causes are related to the jet stream and mountain wave events. In the winter, the jet stream sets at 30,000 feet above the mountains and pushes the winds down because of the high elevations. Mountain waves occur near range areas where the winds come perpendicular to the mountains and then are forced up and over roaring down through narrow valleys below into Estes Park.

Last week I was snowshoeing in the park and encountered a young man skiing on the trail. We chatted for a moment about the day and he remarked, “You’ll find the wind talking to you when you get to tree line.” I smiled as I imagined what the wind might be saying.

The good news is some days are NOT windy in the mountains. The calm and quiet when the wind stops is cause for celebration and joy. The contrast of the gusty winds and the silence of winter is a bittersweet reality of living in this beautiful valley.

I once saw a bumper sticker: “If you can read this, thank a teacher!” Hurray for teachers.

I am proud to be an educator. I did not teach anyone to read, but I hope I nurtured the importance of reading broadly and deeply for my students.

Teaching occurs in structured formal settings as well as informal/nonformal ways such as in libraries, at recreation centers, through park interpretation, and with youth organizations. Teaching in all these contexts is invaluable.

I have been fortunate to associate with many outstanding teachers in my life and in my career. My mother was an extraordinary teacher. What a wonderful gift she gave in teaching hundreds of kids to enjoy reading.  She was a model to me in her use of creative approaches to motivate her students.

Clipping from 1964 about the reading program my mother started

In my almost 40 years in higher education, I was a good teacher but not a great one. I planned diligently, sought techniques to stimulate learning, and cared about my students, but I didn’t have an extraordinary gift for teaching. I was fortunate to observe greatness in teaching and was the student of gifted colleagues such as my friend Deb Bialeschki, who expanded my understanding of teaching.

My undergraduate degree was in education. I learned methods and how to make dynamite lesson plans. However, I learned the most about teaching in my first job when I led trainings for adults who were not a captive audience. I discovered quickly how to make training relevant, interesting, and fun so that folks would become as enthused about the topics as I was (and would be eager to learn more).

My philosophy of teaching has successfully focused on learning by doing. I have applied the necessity of a context for learning. Stories about real life situations have far more meaning than abstract lists. I have been fortunate to be in situations where I could teach using mostly interactive approaches. The Socratic method facilitated my teaching by asking questions and critically thinking about the possible answers.

I miss being in the classroom. I don’t miss grading papers, but I do miss the interactive nature of teaching and learning in formal settings. I am thankful to have had a career focused on education.