My readers often email me and ask questions about my childhood. Some are enthralled that their childhood memories are captured through the writings of my own experiences.
Many request that I not dwell on my childhood activities that they deem to be unsafe.
Sometimes they are upset with trapping and skinning animals, or descriptions of my lone, long hikes in the woods at the age of eight or nine.
I try to reason with them and explain that times were different then.
Boundaries for children have tightened accordingly with societal changes in culture and attitude.
That is why I believe that my generation may be the last to have enjoyed great childhood adventures.
I know that as a 10 year old, back in the beginning of May 1976—just before the Blackflies were about to hatch—I wanted nothing more than to be a frontiersman.
I had read the works of James Fenimore Cooper and Allen Eckert and used them as a road map as to how I wanted to see my great woods.
The open land around me—covered in trees, mountains, streams, and lakes—were now filled with Indians and unchartered unexplored wilderness.
I was the next Hawkeye, born to carve trails and build campfires that gave heat but no smoke to betray my whereabouts.
Today if a 10 year old lit a fire while playing in the woods, someone would call the police and the child would be taken for counseling.
But in my forest it was a rite of passage to be able to make a rink of rocks and build a small fire, and knowing enough to put it out soundly before leaving it.
Two or three boys making a campfire and having a good talk around it was a part of the Adirondack social fabric.
The markings I made on trees to show a new blazed trail were not considered graffiti, rather a woods skill.
The rock bridges I made to cross creeks were not to scar the landscape but to make it fit for travel.
I am sure there are a lot of parents who would consider these risks well outside their comfort zone.
I once read a phrase that has stayed with me for many years, describing children growing up by learning some things through practice on their own: Loitering with intent.
I guess kids need to learn how to react to and learn things on their own so they are better prepared to meet challenges that life may bring.
I suppose my generation was able to hang out in the evenings without supervision to play Kick the Can, making the rules as we went along, and settling our own arguments.
We were able to strike out to the old swimming hole with a tire tube, where a rope swing hung with more danger to land on shore than in the water.
While I don’t advocate for a return to any way of life, I do advocate for letting children know what boundaries we are comfortable with.
To let them into certain situations where they can become self-motivated through their own choices for play and exploration.
This can be done very well just by asking what they did with their day.
We were outside having the last of the great kid adventures and I am happy to share these every week with my readers.
Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller, lives at Inlet. ltmitch3rdny@aol.com