Month: October 2025

I wish I had been a Parks and Rec Kid. I was not. I made up for it by being a Parks and Rec Adult. Growing up on a farm in the shadow of a strong Puritan work ethic, I did not hear about parks and recreation as a setting or a career until I was an adult. My family loved parks, and we were a “4-H Family.” We presumed, however, that parks and recreation was a city thing.

I majored in physical education in college. I liked sports and wanted to be a teacher. However, I did not have a positive student teaching experience. I was teaching 7^th graders how to serve a tennis ball. I lost control of the class as they were laughing and being silly junior high girls. My supervising teacher reprimanded me. At that moment I realized that I did not care if they served correctly. I did care that they were having fun. A subsequent career aptitude test revealed that “recreation worker” was a good fit for me. The rest, as they say, is history. I have dedicated my career to advocating for parks and recreation and all that it offers.

Being a Parks and Rec Kid refers to the “I’m a Park and Rec KidSM” campaign launched by the National Recreation and Park Association (NRPA) in 2015 to encourage people to share their positive experiences in local parks and recreation programs. The campaign highlighted the value of parks and recreation as it relates to positive youth development. One of the stories that emerged was that Venus and Serena Williams began their tennis careers on public tennis courts in Compton, CA. Other athletes were introduced to their sports in their local communities before moving on to higher level participation.

I will always advocate for the significant value of public parks and recreation. Tax money pays for the programs that are open to all residents. Economic, environmental, and social benefits include creating jobs, improving public health, building strong communities, and protecting natural resources. They enhance the quality of life by making towns and cities more attractive places to live, work, and visit. As the California campaign advocated years ago, “Parks Make Life Better!”

Public lands and recreation have traditionally been a unifying force. They are bipartisan issues with broad verbal support across the political spectrum for their protection and funding, especially at the local and state levels. More funding, however, is required to nurture a whole new generation of parks and rec kids (and adults).

Just for fun, I asked AI to write a 400 word blog that reflects my academic convictions. AI has access to most of my professional publications. Here is the (inspired, AI word and not mine) article it wrote by Karla Henderson (unedited by me). I agree that it reflects my thoughts although I might use different examples:

Title: Leisure as Liberation: Creating Space for Ourselves and Each Other

What does it mean to live fully?

For many of us, daily life is structured around responsibilities — work, caregiving, managing a household. These are vital parts of who we are. But I’ve often returned to the question: where is the space for joy? For connection? For leisure?

And what even is leisure?

Leisure is more than free time. It’s a deeply personal experience — a space where we can be authentic, creative, and connected. It’s where we laugh with friends, hike a familiar trail, paint, dance, or simply sit quietly with a good book. For some, it’s gardening. For others, it’s skateboarding or knitting or attending a community drum circle.

But leisure is also political. It’s shaped by systems — by race, gender, ability, economics, and history. Not everyone has equal access to leisure, or equal freedom to define what leisure means for them.

Reclaiming Leisure

For women — especially women of color, queer women, and caregivers — leisure is often viewed as indulgent, or even selfish. We’re told to be productive, to take care of others, to put ourselves last.

But reclaiming leisure is an act of resistance. It’s a declaration that our time and joy matter.

In my years of research, I’ve listened to women share stories of how leisure became a form of healing — a time when they could finally breathe. Whether it was through writing poetry, roller skating in the park, or meeting with a weekly book club, these were not just hobbies. They were acts of self-preservation.

Leisure as Community

Leisure also builds community. Think of a community garden where neighbors exchange stories over tomatoes. Or a Zumba class that becomes a lifeline for social connection. These spaces can become sanctuaries — especially when they are inclusive and affirming.

Yet, we must ask: Who feels welcome in these spaces? Who has access to them? If we want leisure to be liberating, we must ensure it is equitable.

This means rethinking how cities design parks, how schools offer recreation, how organizations serve diverse populations. Inclusion is not an afterthought — it is the foundation.

Making Space for Joy

So I invite you to reflect: What brings you joy? What restores you? And how can you make space — not just for yourself, but for others — to experience leisure that uplifts and connects?

Because in a world that often demands our labor but not our joy, leisure is not a luxury. It is liberation.

Let us choose it boldly.

A bearded middle-aged guy (sans dog) stopped me on a trail in Rocky Mountain National Park and said, “So dogs are not allowed on this trail, right?” I was on Tundra Guardian duty and dressed in my volunteer uniform chatting with people as they made their way up the paved tundra trail. He went on to say, “I didn’t think there would be anyone here to stop dogs from being on the trail.”

I assured him that sometimes we had volunteers and staff patrolling the trails, but we obviously could not stop all the people from bringing their (non-service) dogs.

The encounter reminded me of how I frequently remind people that the park operates on an honor system. We have rules we expect people to follow, but the enforcement on 415 square miles is difficult. Thus, we hope people will honor the authority of the resource and follow the rules just because it is the right thing.

In another example, RMNP has a timed entry system in the summer that indicates vehicles must have a permit to enter the park between 9 am-2 pm. That requirement is enforced at the main entrances, but RMNP has several trailheads that do not require entering through the main gates. We tell people the rules and ask them to respect the system.

How people choose to be honorable and ethical is an interesting question. Moral development involves a person’s understanding of ethics and values.  I believe most people want to do the right thing, but they are not always sure what that entails.

Lawrence Kohlberg outlined stages of moral development grouped into three levels: preconventional (focusing on one’s self and how to avoid punishment), conventional (guided by social norms, policies, and law), and postconventional (based on universal ethical principles of what is good and right). Individuals progress through these stages as their moral reasoning becomes more complex, with not everyone reaching the postconventional level.  During the current shutdown, some people think the rules no longer exist and no one will enforce them. Planning to “not get caught” is a sad commentary on depreciated moral development.

Rules exist in the park related to doing minimal damage to natural resources. Helping people know what is right, fair, and just no matter who is looking is an ongoing challenge.

Mom keeps asking me if I want a new sister or brother. She avoids answering the question for herself about whether she wants another cat.

I have been lonely since my sister passed away suddenly three months ago. I did not understand what happened, but mom started sobbing and ran to the car with Mog’s limp brown tabby body in her arms. Mom returned. Mog didn’t.

Mog was having some health issues, but I had no idea she would go so quickly. She told me to take care of mom when she was gone, but I thought she was just yakking as she often did. I had no idea Mog would leave mom and me. Mog and I were litter mates and had only spent 3 nights apart in 15 plus years.

The days and nights are different without Mog. Mom lavishes attention on me and lets me sleep in the chair and on the bed where Mog used to sleep. Mog was bossy and I let her tell me what to do. I have never been a cuddler like Mog, but I try to let mom know that I am here for her. She is sad.

Mom talks to me more than she did before Mog passed. She said she loved having the two of us as kittens when we were adopted years ago but doesn’t think raising kittens again is what she needs. She wants an older cat that might be difficult to adopt and for whom she could provide a forever home. I like that idea. I do not think I could deal with the energy of a new kitten.

Mom went to the Pet Association last week to meet a 10-year-old yellow tabby that was surrendered because her elderly parents died. She said the cat was sweet but just did not seem to be right for us. I think seeing this cat and going forward with the possibility of adoption just made mom sadder about Mog.

As for me, I don’t know. I am taking care of mom by patrolling the house and cuddling up next to her to watch TV at night just as Mog used to do. Mom volunteers a lot so I am home by myself. I sleep more these days as I get older. On the other hand, it would be nice if a new cat helped me cheer mom up.

Both of us need a little more time to figure this out. We will know when we know.

“Introduce yourself briefly and talk about one of the scars, visible or invisible, on your body.” This request was part of an introductory activity during the first meeting of a group of people who did not know each other but who would spend the next 10 days together on an outdoor adventure trip.

I had never experienced such a request. I learned quickly, however, that talking about scars can carry personal, emotional, and social significance. I have been fortunate to have few visible scars on my body. That day I talked about the scars on my shoulder that were a result of surgery on a rotator cuff tear that I got when downhill skiing.

One woman talked about the mastectomy she had due to breast cancer. A youngish guy described knee surgery because of playing high school football. Another woman described the scar on her forehead where her brother had accidentally hit her with a baseball bat when she was 10 years old.

The significance of the get-acquainted activity revealed something interesting and unknown about the people we would get to know well in the next few days. Several aspects were significant.

First, scars can be a symbol of survival and/or strength. Scars often represent something the person has endured and overcome whether surgery or an accident. Talking about them can be a way of reclaiming agency over something painful.

Second, revealing information about scars can be an opportunity for communication. It can be an invitation for deeper emotional intimacy. Further, scars are part of an identity narrativethat show how good and/or bad experiences have shaped each of us. No one talked about emotional scars that I am sure we all had. Those stories were reserved for later when we became more closely acquainted.

Third, scars can be associated with social or cultural meanings. They can be stigmatized. Conversations about them challenge that stigma. Scars can be reframed not as flaws, but a part of a person’s lived experience. Though the scars I have from two shoulder surgeries as well as two wrist surgeries are faint, they remind me that I am fortunate to be an active person even though accidents can happen.

Dialoging about scars can be therapeutic, empowering, connective, and interesting. Descriptions are rarely about the mark but about the story behind it and what it means to carry it forward. Learning about people’s scars was a way to start a dialogue about what is meaningful in life.