A Playful Project
Photo by Lidya Nada on Unsplash
February 16, 2024
It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m in an elementary school all-purpose room for my town’s semiannual “Play Day.” Takoma Park, MD, founded in 1883 and sharing a border with Washington, DC, is famous for declaring itself a nuclear-free zone in the 1980s and, in 2013, becoming the first U.S. city to grant 16- and 17-year-olds the right to vote in city elections. Takoma Park is also the home of Pat Rumbaugh, aka “The Play Lady,” founder of the national nonprofit Let’s Play America.
This town takes play seriously. So here I am, at the Mid-Winter Play Day, because I play bass clarinet with the Takoma Park Community Band, and we’re entertaining the playful audience with a pops concert.
I’m using the word play a lot here. It’s interesting that in Spanish the verb tocar, meaning to play music or a musical instrument, also means to touch or to have contact with. In English, what you do to make music with instruments is also the word for recreation or the action of a game (among other meanings). Instrumental music making doesn’t have its own verb, in either language.
As part of growing my capacity for fun this month, I took Gretchen Rubin’s “Habits for Happiness” Quiz, designed to help identify an area, such as health or finances, where you might develop a new habit that will make you happier. My quiz result is:
Boost your sense of creativity and play by making time for fun and exploration.
Not surprising. I know that I’m play-challenged. Before moving to Substack, I wrote my blog on a website that I named MovePlayLearnLive, where I explore three essential parts of healthy living. That second one, Play, is my biggest deficiency.
As a child, I played in the ways typical of insulated White suburban girls of the 1960s. My best friends were Robin and Becky, sisters who lived at one end of our block. My house was close to the other end. The three of us would meet at one or the other house and play make-believe with a variety of dolls, the best of which were the sock monkeys, because they were doll-ish blank slates for the imagination.
Robin and Becky’s mother made them first, then my mom made one for me. We could give the sock monkeys any characters we dreamed up, then create their lives and scenarios. I remember none of these now, but we had many.
There is actually a Sock Monkey Museum, in Long Grove, IL. Its tagline: “Not your Grandparent’s museum, but maybe your Grandparent’s socks!”
I met my other best friend, Janet, in church when I was 8 and she was 7. We were in different grades at school and our homes weren’t within walking distance, but we played every Sunday afternoon, alternating houses. One Sunday, we’d both go home with her family after church; the next week we’d go with mine.
I loved going to Janet’s house, and not only because she was a wonderful playmate. Janet’s home had a playful atmosphere that mine lacked. The adults, especially her dad, played with us—not games, but in conversation and joking and giving me the unspoken message that he enjoyed my company.
Now, more than 50 years later, Janet is still my best friend, though we live far apart. She’s the only person who makes me laugh, long and loud, whenever we talk.
Laughter is “a telltale sign of True Fun,” says Catherine Price in her book The Power of Fun: How to Feel Alive Again. In the book and her Substack, the fun Price writes about is not what is generally meant by “fun” in our dominant culture, based on activities such as watching TV, going to an amusement park, social media scrolling, or my personal favorite, compulsive email checking.
Price defines a deeper experience that she names True Fun.
“True Fun, I realized, is the feeling of being fully present and engaged, free from self-criticism and judgment. It is the thrill of losing ourselves in what we’re doing and not caring about the outcome. It is laughter. It is playful rebellion. It is euphoric connection. … There is a reason that our moments of True Fun stand out in our memories: True Fun makes us feel alive.”
The Play Lady and her team have set out hula hoops, jump ropes, and beanbag toss games in the center of the all-purpose room. Around the perimeter are a few cafeteria tables at which volunteers sit, ready with playful activities for the kids who wander past. When our band plays, a woman pushing a walker sways in rhythm with the music, while another woman dances next to her and a little girl twirls a hula hoop.
Play Day is not my style of play. However, taking Price’s suggestion to “adopt a Fun Mindset” (p. 219), I’m looking for ways to add a bit of playfulness to the experience.
At a certain point during every Play Day event, the Play Lady gathers the folks on the floor for the “Chicken Dance,” which the band is obliged to accompany. As we strike up the music, two of the trumpet players produce rubber chickens, which they attach to their music stands.
There it is: a small, internal giggle. The surprise absurdity catches me up in a moment of fun.
