ecohn's blog

     I stepped into the streets, the brisk winds pushing and pulling my hair. Between the cold temperature and the stimuli of the city, I immediately found myself more energized. That was the first thing I noticed when playing in the city.

     The second thing I noticed was how thoroughly play was incorporated into the city of Philadelphia. Although the streets definitely gave off a “city” vibe, play was everywhere. This was not the city experience that I was used to.

     Serendipity was easy to find in the city. My group and I stumbled upon many things that we did not anticipate or choose. The first of these was a park. It seemed simple enough, until we noticed the giant game pieces scattered around. As we entered, we were shocked by a group of people we saw there, one of whom was climbing up a giant “Sorry” piece, and doing a handstand on top of it. It was amazing to see these people, probably in there twenties, being so open, and really “playing” in the city. This also reinforced my agreement with Henig’s assertion of the great importance of play. Seeing these twenty-something year olds playing with open minds made me so happy. I feel like, much of the time, adults lose (or hide) their desire to play. Seeing these adults play was inspirational and comforting. Who said people all had to “grow up” in the same way or at the same time?

Play defined my childhood. I remember playing “restaurant” in middle school; I would invite my parents up to Restaurante de’Ellen, where they would sit on my bed and enjoy the fine gourmet cuisine of plastic food. I drew a stovetop on my dry erase boards and played soft music in the background. I rearranged lights and set out books as a “table”.  I made menus and designed a store sign. I played the waitress and the cook, making up a background for each of them and putting on a fake accent. This play of mine was necessary to my development, and while reading Henig’s article, I was again saddened by how long it’s been since I’ve looked in my “fake food bin”.

I completely agree with Henig’s assertion of the importance of play. I think my particular background with fake food falls into the “play as preparation” hypothesis. That’s not to say that I aspire to be a chef or waitress, but I think it shows how I became so outgoing. Greeting my parents with different identities, each one outgoing and welcoming has helped me to become the person I am today. 

I miss the snuggles and the cold nose waking me up from afternoon naps. I miss his whining when bored, and his excitement when stimulated. I miss the constant sound of his snoring (yes, even when he was awake). I miss my dog.

My avatar is a picture of Oscar (also called "beast", "dog", and "93-pounder"), whom I've had for about three years now. About four years ago, my home was broken into. It led to horrible feelings of insecurity, so we ended up adopting a twenty-pound dog from our neighborhood shelter. Although I was scared of dogs at the time, he and I soon bonded so closely that I'm not even scared of his now 93-pound self. 

I love this animal, so I chose to make my avatar a picture of him. This particular picture was taken when I returned from a study-break, only to find that he had taken my seat. As he stared up at me intently, probably wondering "when do I get to eat again", I was struck with the sudden urge to snuggle-study, which I soon found greatly decreased productivity, but helped stress levels. 

I don't even remember how I lived without a dog for my whole life, and I keep expecting him to push my hand with his nose, silently pleading for a scratch. I look forward to skyping with him, and to fall break, when I will get a snuggle-fix for the next few months. 

I guess you could say I'm feeling slightly homesick?