Sunday, March 22, 2020 – Free to Be Me

It is 7:45 a.m., and there is no one in Vitruvian Park. The lack of human voices is our new normal. I hear non-human sounds —water spilling over a waterfall, the wind blowing leaves and birds screeching, hooting and cooing. The soft music of the morning washes over me and sends my spirit soaring.

This special time reminds me of the magical summers of my childhood. I grew up in a college town before the term “summer school” was a part of our vernacular. In the heat of the summer, on the relatively empty sidewalks of Stillwater, Oklahoma, I pretended like I was the last person on earth. At that time, Stillwater was a town of 35,000 of which 25,000 were Oklahoma State University students who were not there in the summer. My imagination was free to run wild. I could be the ruler of my domain. For as far as I could see, I was the only one in control.

I was fortunate to be a child in the 1950s when parenting was not the religion it is today. There were no helicopters hovering near me, wanting to know my every move. I could go outside after lunch and not return home until time for supper. So, I was free to shout “Hi-Yo Silver, away!” like the Lone Ranger, trample dishonesty like Hopalong Cassidy, chase bandits like Roy Rogers, shoot outlaws like Annie Oakley or fly a plane like Sky King.

We feel like caged animals right now. But when I am walking and all I can hear are the sounds of nature, I feel empowered. With my trusty dog Bullet at my side, I can saddle up Silver or Trigger or even jump in my airplane Songbird to kill the outlandish outlaw we all want right now — Covid-19.