Watching: The Goodbye Girl, the early morning movie on Channel 7, while I worked on the corrections for my latest job. I remember going to see this movie with my high school boyfriend; I don't think I'd seen it since. There are some cute bits, and Richard Dreyfus is fun to watch, but ultimately I didn't get it: He falls for her because she is sympathetic after his play bombs? She falls for him because he is nice to her kid? I still like the song, though.

Playground Musings

Yesterday afternoon Tab went to Villanova with a friend of ours whose daughter is graduating this May. Sylvia hired Tab to take her daughter's graduation photo as well as pictures of her and her roommates at locations around the campus. While we were waiting for him to return, the boys and I went to a playground. I was sitting at a picnic table with my Zaurus, composing Sunday's entry for this journal, when the cell phone rang. Usually we just leave the cell phone turned off--it's only intended for use in an emergency--but I'd left a message for Tab, telling him where we were and saying he could call me there. It turned out to be a Good Thing, too, as he needed me to stop by Sylvia's on the way home and pick up one of his cameras he had left in her car. It struck me funny that even out at a playground, I'd surrounded myself with the trappings of late twentieth-century technology.

There was one other little boy at the playground, but he left shortly after we got there. Then a mother and father arrived with two boys that I first thought were twins. They were both very blond and were dressed exactly alike, with grey pants and black sweatshirts. It was only when I saw them together that I realized there was an age difference between them. I rarely saw the boys together, though. The mother had one of them and the father had the other, and they followed their sons all over the playground, through the climbing maze, up the rope walks, down the sliding boards...everywhere. These boys were not that little, either, perhaps aged 3 and 4. Once in awhile I see these sorts of hovering parents at playgrounds, and I always feel sorry for their kids who are not allowed to run around on their own.

In the summers when my sisters and I were growing up, there were days when we would be out for hours, riding our bikes, playing with friends in the neighborhood, or exploring the small patch of overgrown land behind our house that we called "The Woods." Sometimes I'd eat lunch at my friend Elaine's house and only return home for dinner. Back then my mother didn't have to worry about letting us out of her sight for hours at a time. The world has become a scarier place, and I know I won't permit my sons that much freedom at a young age. But at least I can allow them to roam the playground without shadowing their every move.

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