We grew up on the water. Once you passed the swim test, a quarter of a mile swim around the boundary of the swimming area and you reached the age of 7, you were allowed to run around our community completely unattended. (Although we did find out later that the moms could see us wherever we went, we just thought we were free.)
Being free to go wherever we wanted — and do whatever we wanted — within the boundary of our little community was an amazing way to grow up, in so many ways. We would leave the house at 9 a.m. after breakfast, stop at some random mom’s for lunch when we felt like it and then be home by 5:30 p.m. to get ready for dinner. We were so free that until 6th grade, I didn’t know how to tell any time on an analog clock except 5:30. No time mattered except that one.
What did we do as kids with all this unstructured time? We swam, we paddled, we fished. We literally spent hours a day either in or on the water, no matter the weather. Alright, as we got older, we did spend less time building sandcastles and more time taking all those tests in Seventeen Magazine and playing MASH. But we still did it on the beach with our toes in the sand. We didn’t shower, we rinsed ourselves off with lake water and called it good.
It was wonderful. Kind of. That freedom to make your own schedule, to attend only the offered activities that you wanted to and to actually play your day away was something we took for granted at the time. We didn’t understand that other kids at other places were rushed from one activity to the next by counselors and never had time to themselves. We ran our own lives, made our own decisions and kind of fed ourselves.
Of course, we didn’t always make the right decisions. No small kid would. I mean, how else would you find out what is inside of a frog than by smashing him between two rocks so his guts spilled out everywhere… Did you know that fish scream if you float a fish on a piece of tinfoil on a really hot day? And you can cook him alive? To this day I am not afraid of snakes, but more afraid that someone will pick up that snake and throw it at me. Not my favorite game.
In a way, we were a little like “Lord of the Flies.” Unsupervised kids running around, creating their own societal structures during the day and then only coming back under parental supervision and regulations at night. But we learned how to survive on our own, kind of. We learned simple things like how to work together to sneak the ice cream off the top shelf of the freezer when not one of us couldn’t reach, but we could if we made a pyramid.
We learned to rely on each other, building relationships beyond our family groups and out with the world. New kids were thrust into our group with no warning or explanation and we had to figure them out as we went along. Kids left and we dealt with that, too. Our structures were always changing, as we moved in and out of friendships and later, experimental relationships.
But rarely did a parent step in to show us how to deal with something or solve a problem for us. We were left to our own devices, to explore the world of nature and society on our own, to build friendships based on who we were rather than what sports team we were on. That’s not to say we were always friends. Unsupervised kids can be very mean, but we also learned the repercussions of that meanness. WE dealt with our problems, not our parents, and WE learned to figure things out on our own.
It was hard. I spent a lot of time sitting on the beach with a book because I couldn’t figure out where all the other kids were. I learned to be alone a lot and that was okay with me because I loved reading so much and was free to do that. Although at one point my dad did interfere and ban reading during daylight hours. That was a rough summer for me. But I learned who I was because I was given the time and opportunity to develop as myself. To find out what I liked and didn’t like about the world and other kids.
And it’s what drove me to Vermont. A state that is just like summer camp, but for grownups. I went for a hike today, tomorrow maybe I’ll paddle. Because “I’m a Vermontah, and I’ll do what I wantah.”
Merisa Sherman is a long time Killington resident, elected lister and member of the Development Review Board. She is a local real estate advisor and Coach PomPom. She can be reached at Merisa.Sherman@SothebysRealty.com.
