Right and Might and Kids and Playgrounds

Life is a leap in the dark without rules.

'Getting old isn't for sissies' is dead on.
I've been working for a daycare. Lots of hugs. Smiles. Prezzies of color-scribbled pages.
Also lots of work - physical work, cleaning, stooping, thinking how to make positive comments to a screaming, emotionally-tsunamied toddler in mid-meltdown or pro-actively teach said toddler how to request to use the toilet instead of their pants. I've adored much of it: teaching thirteen 3 to 4-year-olds how to eat their first drumstick without becoming drenched in barbeque sauce is good, messy fun.
It's all good when the children are good, and often even when they're bad (not a term child care officials sanction, but nonetheless used sotto voce amongst workers). Where there is predictable structure and known, clear boundaries with immediate rewards and consequences in an atmosphere of respect, even the meltdowns are survivable. These are immature human beings whose minds and bodies get overwhelmed by small matters who will, as you watch, grow out of it, learn to cope and become comfortable with social intercourse. I've seen them evolve from sitting in the middle of the room devastated and crying their hearts out demanding mommy or daddy because someone snatched their toy. With some, you just hug them until the moment passes and they feel safe again. Others resist touch and work it out on their own. Some let other kids help them. In all cases, they eventually flick a switch and run off to play without a backward glance. They don't need you anymore--but they know you're there.
Daycare is hugely important in a country filled with double wage earners. The parents who have good daycares are hugely fortunate.
Staff is key. Many staffers are young earnest women with no experience with children who want to be friends and play with their friends (a daycare word for children or students or class).
That works until the friends push the boundaries a little.
Which is their job.
We set the expectations; kids test them to see if we mean it and if it applies to everyone. Applying to everyone is important to children. They know life isn't fair, but rules should be equal.
It has occurred to me that the Wall Street Protesters are protesting unequal rules. Not that life isn't fair, they know that the billions owned by a favored few vastly outnumber the resources of the working poor, but what gets their goat is that those few are not held to the same rules. They seemingly have no rules.
That's not right.
Which is way bigger than fair in daycare. Just use a word like supper instead of dinner or say autumn instead of fall and you. are. not. right. 
Bankers and other capitalists flaunting the rules and making profits on the backs of those held to those rules is just. not. right.
Kids, who are corrected more frequently than an untrained puppy, know that. They learn the right words, actions, thoughts and beliefs by frequent correcting by parents, teachers and other kids. They delight in correcting those who express other - ipso facto wrong - words, actions, thoughts or beliefs -  and sitting in the catbird seat for a change.
And if something's not right, they look to us to fix it. If we don't, they get to thinking rules don't matter.
I've seen what happens when kids get to that point. If the teachers don't restructure and reinstate rules for everybody, it's Lord of the Flies time.
Money buys amoral anarchy for those who have it, always has, but the filthy rich were savvy enough to conceal their dirty doings from the hoi polloi. Now these capitalists rub their faces in their excesses like bullies on a playground; flaunting payoffs, lifestyles and perks while smirking all the way to their tax havens.   Schoolyard bullies are powerless if no one plays with them. They suddenly recall their manners and use social skills to get the attention they crave. It would be fair if the Wall Streeters could do that to the rogue Capitalists.

High Hopes

Meanderthals against Chinook gusts.

I hike with a bunch that calls themselves the Meanderthals. 
You might think with a name like that, they 1) have a keen sense of humor and 2)) they stroll around the mountains enjoying the views in their golden years of freedom. You would be half right.
These geezers, who go into their 90s, "strolled" 850 meters up a mountainside to Windy Point on Wednesday, covering 7 kilometers in 4 hours in a Chinook with winds up to 100 kilometers per hour, and on the way back discussed how we could have crossed a ridge to a neighboring peak to get in another 2 hours and made it an even 1,000 meters.
And they are the B group; the As would have bagged the neighboring peak and gone on to top another before circling back - at double the pace (they include some 90-year-olds).
I've learned a lot about hiking that I didn't know when I played around with it in the Bay Area.
Up here in the Canadian Rockies, the mountains are not as tall, but much steeper, and to get anywhere, you pretty much have to boot it. I come back aching all over, which makes overnight trips fun since you get to do it all over again the next day. One memorable trip we started the first day with an elevation of 800 meters and covered 21 kilometers. I think even my hair hurt coming back from that one.

The last golden poplar in the Wind Valley.

Not that we do anything spectacular. Even within our group, we pale next to the As who attempt some mildly technical peaks, and in the world of hiking and climbing, our excursions are piffling. Still, we get out. I hike with some younger folks, and they take in stride their endurance, strength, balance and quick recovery. In the Bay Area, I was usually comfortable on hikes, panting on especially steep inclines, but mostly just striding along. The leader, the eldest in the group, was capable of a much faster pace and steeper terrain, but went at the pace of  the slowest. I didn't get tested often. Here, I do.
I've learned that hiking isn't a stroll. Where I once wondered what the hurry was, I now realize a brisker pace means you can get out and up and back in a jiffy and have time to do other things with your day. A good hike with a beautiful view and sections that stretch your muscles and lungs can fill a morning or afternoon.

Dinner for a hungry bear or cougar.

My fellow Meanderthals are mostly retired and some go out every day if they want in this active mountain town. It becomes part of their day, not their whole day. I get to go out when I get time off work, so it's a bigger deal for me.
But I've learned.
The deal with hiking is to go with those who match your pace. If you're going so fast you can't keep up a conversation, it may not be much fun. You decide if you 1) need to get in better condition so as to keep up more easily or 2) find a group that goes your pace.

That's Calgary on the horizon under a Chinook Arch

Kind of like life, I guess. Finding like-minded souls starts on the playground and never ends. I never made it up Lady MacDonald, my goal peak for this summer. On my one attempt, we got started late and I ran out of gas even before the boulder field, which is before the teahouse, where many turn around, and that is before the steep ridge that gets you to the scree that covers the actual peak. I have a friend who has vowed to do it with me. She was with me this summer.
She says we will make it.
I love having something to look forward to.