Learning to Play My mother, though kind, generous, and loving, never learned to play childhood games. Born an only child to two earnest and serious parents who believed they should treat her like a little adult, the fun my mother enjoyed was mature and staid. Thus, I tried to be a little adult, as well. To please my mother, I learned at an early age to play bridge and enjoy symphonies. Therefore, I am grateful for my father, for although he sometimes embarrassed me with his silly antics and corny jokes, at least he taught me not to take myself too seriously. He taught me how to play. Not that…
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My Journey toward Playfulness
Losing My Playfulness As a preschooler, I drove my mother wild with my irrepressible energy and curiosity about life. I was into everything, and I never stopped. Life was a delightful surprise, and I was going to taste, touch, see, learn about all of it. My mother tells me I was a happy kid, and I do remember joy. Exuberant, loud joy. Then somewhere along the way that changed. Maybe it was the losses, like my parents’ divorce and my grandmother’s death. Or maybe I started feeling uncomfortable when I went to school and the kids teased me for being short. And there were the other dysfunctions often found in…
