Happy Halloween! I found this picture over at BigPinkCookie.com and it inspired me to write the following post:

Mounds. Popcorn balls. Good N Plenty. Circus peanuts. Black licorice.

That’s my vote for the top five worst Halloween candy (candies?) of all time. And candy corn, you just missed the cut.
What are yours? 

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I had a very miserable piece of pie the other day. You may have heard of the flavor: humble pie. Yes, I was looking through pictures of our Seattle trip with some friends when I realized that I, too, am struggling with a case of Adultitis. Admittance is the first step, right? The picture I shared a few blogs ago with me holding the large fish from the Pike Place Fish Market struck a chord with me.

I’ve seen that face before. Who does that remind me of? It’s someone very familiar. Then it hit me.

It’s ME!

“That look!” The look that oozes giddy joy and peace. It reminded me of a childhood picture of me standing behind my third birthday cake. The reason I had to force down the piece of humble pie is because I truly haven’t seen that face in a while. It was like seeing an old friend. Why does it take visiting a state across the country to bring out that child inside of me?

This piece of pie may have been hard to eat, but it has left me with plenty to think about – food for thought, if you will.

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They say misery loves company. That must be the reason why grown-ups suffering from full-blown cases of Adultitis are working so hard to ruin Halloween for kids.

My three-year-old niece is going Trick or Treating as Darth Vader this year. (Yes, I did say niece.) She already has the next three years worth of costumes planned out. Next year, it’s Luke Skywalker, then Darth Maul, then…a bunny.

The other day on the radio, I heard the superintendent from the Madison School District mention that they don’t encourage schools to have costume parties. They don’t ban them; they just strongly discourage them. “Some cultures don’t look at dressing up in costumes the same way as others,” she said.

When Kim was teaching kindergarten, she ran into this issue every October. There was a very small contingency that wanted to do away with Halloween altogether, for fear that someone, somewhere would be offended. Now I don’t know about you, but any time I see a five-year-old dressed up like Spiderman with a bag full of Milk Duds and Milky Ways, my blood just boils.

Why have we lost our perspective? Why have we become so over-sensitive about everything? These days, political correctness might just be a fancy way for an Adultitis-stricken grown-up to say, “I’m angry, miserable, and afraid, and I hate seeing other people happy.”

Then I come across a USA Today article talking about companies that are coming out with more healthy alternatives to standard Halloween fare. Mini granola bars. Bat-shaped pretzels. Pre-sliced apples.

Pre-sliced apples?

“Halloween is a nutritional nightmare,” says Cynthia Lair, a nutritionist. “All the candy isn’t just non-nutritional, it can also create nutritional debts.”

Question: What in Sam Hill is a nutritional debt? Is George Bush aware of this? Call Congress into action immediately!

Says spokeswoman Wendy Davis, speaking on behalf of the apple growers group and Radio Disney about sliced apples in pre-sealed bags at 50 cents a pop: “About the same price as a Hershey Bar. But better for you.”

Of course, these companies are not marketing to the kids. No kid in his or her right mind would ever, EVER choose a pre-sealed bag of sliced apples — sliced apples? — over a Hershey bar. These companies are marketing to grown-ups, particularly the ones who have become so overcome with Adultitis that they are inadvertently (I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt) choking all of the fun out of childhood; specifically Halloween.

When I was a little shaver, my dad made us a snack every night. Usually it consisted of some combination of oranges, raisins, bananas, and yes, even sliced apples. But when Halloween rolled around, it was all about the sugar. We would binge on candy for days at a time (I’m sure creating a very sizable nutritional debt) and it was wonderful.

It was wonderful because it only happened once a year. Childhood obesity is a big problem these days, but it’s not because of Halloween. It’s because too many parents can’t say no to their kids, are too busy to prepare much else but fast food, and appease their children with chocolate and sugar.

In the eyes of children, Halloween is a national holiday. Dressing up like a ballerina (or Darth Vader) and eating some Hershey bars is not going to hurt anyone. Grown-ups, please, get some perspective, get some help for your Adultitis, and quit ruining everything.

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When I was a kid, I remember heading out back to the ravine behind our house. It was only a few steps from the front door, but it might as well been a million miles away, in some godforsaken, unexplored jungle. I’d pretend to be Han Solo, exploring a far off planet, or an archaeologist, digging for clues about ancient years — like the early seventies. My friend Jenna often tells stories about sitting in a tree in her yard, enveloped by branches, equipped with books and sandwiches. In fact, many people I know, when asked to name their favorite place to play as a child, would mention somewhere outdoors.

I wonder about today’s kids. I don’t seem to remember the problem of "childhood obesity" when I was in elementary school. It’s easy to blame McDonalds, I guess, except that I don’t recall McDonald’s ever coming to my house and forcing Big Macs down my throat.

Anyway, Aleks Wukovich pointed me to an article from the latest issue of The Ecologist. Tim Gill, the author, agrees with me about the idea that the great outdoors is often listed as the favorite childhood play place of today’s grown-ups.

Your favourite childhood place to play was out of doors. It was away from adults. And it was a ‘wild’ place – not truly wild perhaps, but unkempt, dirty, and quite possibly a little bit dangerous. How can I be so sure? Because over the years I’ve asked lots of grown-ups this question – parish clerks, senior civil servants, nursery workers, landscape architecture undergraduates, council officials, foresters, politicians, teachers – and they all say the same thing. If you doubt me, just raise the subject at your next coffee break or party and see what comes up.

It seems that, given the chance, human beings in their middle years of childhood love nothing more than a secret hideaway they can make their own: usually a spot carefully chosen to be just out of earshot of a shouting parent.

Tim presents the well-supported fact that playing outside keeps kids thinner. According to the article:

Studies at the University of Illinois’ Human-Environment Research Laboratory on children with Attention-Hyperactivity Deficit Disorder (ADHD) have shown that green outdoor spaces not only foster creative play and improve interactions with adults, they also relieve the symptoms of the disorder.

So why don’t kids play outside as much as they used to? Gill suggests the following reasons:

• A decrease in places to play due to the exponential growth in road traffic and poor town planning.
• Shifts in the make-up and daily rhythms of families and communities.
• A generalised anxiety about all manner of threats that found fertile ground in turn-of-the-millennium families, even though children are statistically safer from harm now than at any point in human history.

Gill goes on to offer a well-developed, multi-faceted solution. It’s definitely worth a read.  I am always most interested in the ideas that focus less on blaming other people and waiting for someone else to act, and more on the things we can do ourselves. Says Gill:

We parents also have the power to resist the seductions of consumerism and play our part in restoring to children some of the freedoms we took for granted when we were young. We can say no a little more, switch off the screens and direct our children’s curious eyes to some altogether more expansive vistas. In doing so, we need to face up to our fears and chip away at the free-floating anxiety that can so easily beset us.

Hmm. Maintain a little perspective. Encourage a little curiosity. Have a little faith. That sounds about right.

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Maria pointed me to a post on the Kat’s Paws blog about an article that ran in The Boston Globe. It’s about a 45-year-old guy named Peter Lewis who built a treehouse in his backyard. A glorious, wonderful, 250 square foot, two-story treehouse featuring a wood stove and retractable staircase "to keep the girls out."

Lewis, a writer, uses the getaway as a place to get some work done. And sneak in a few naps. As I travel around the country encouraging people to escape adulthood, I am always mindful of the people with suspicious looks. The ones who think that "escaping adulthood" is marked by those irresponsible few; the ones in the middle of a midlife crisis with a few screws loose to boot. However, the article points out: 

Lewis is adamant that he didn’t build the treehouse as the result of a midlife crisis. He didn’t do it to learn how to be a kid again, he says, because he has never stopped being one. And though it was a great and sometimes overwhelmingly difficult experience, he wouldn’t describe it as cathartic. ”I tried to come up with some deep, philosophical reason for building the treehouse, but it was just a silly idea and I felt like doing it. Fortunately, I had a very understanding wife and enough scrap to pull it off."

Lewis was also fortunate to have the example of his parents. In the article he acknowledges:

"My parents were both very creative people who thought way outside the box. Mom told me that dreaming was important and that dreaming big was what set people apart." The catch, she told him, is to act on those dreams. ”In other words," he says, ”go ahead and think up great and sometimes odd ideas, but then make them happen."

For more on Peter’s treehouse, you might want to check out the coffee table book, Treehouse Chronicles: One Man’s Dream of Life Aloft

All of us have at least one silly, childlike idea in the back of our mind that goes unpursued because we’re afraid. We’re afraid that people might think we’re nuts.

Here’s a newsflash: we’re all nuts.

But shelving a dream because you’re afraid of what other people might think is REALLY nuts. That’s our problem. That’s why everybody is so stressed-out: everybody is going nuts because they’re afraid to do what they really want for fear that people will think they’re nuts. Got it?

Here’s to dreaming big and following through on "silly" ideas. 

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We’ve batted the idea for a paid subscription around for a long time here at Kim & Jason Headquarters. We finally and officially launched the new Club K&J last week, and I’m pretty excited about it. I’ve always wanted to keep the daily strip free. I think that’s very important, not only to help spread the word about Kim & Jason, but also for the kids and other folks who don’t have any money to shell out to read the strip (even though it IS only seven cents a day.) But as the web site has continued to grow, it’s become pretty cost prohibitive to keep it all going. So we’ve come out with a pretty cool package of benefits to help defray the cost of maintaining everything while offering some nice perks for the people who love Kim & Jason.

So far I have been very happy with the response. In fact, I’m exceptionally blown away by the number of readers who have elected for Level 3, which includes some cool merchandise and a custom drawing from yours truly. This enthusiasm has led to a wrist cramp as I churn out sketches with a busy ferocity (Jocelyn Erickson, the one above is on its way to you!) And my brain is also pretty busy, abuzz with ideas for the upcoming exclusive Christmas premium we’ll be sending out (all subscribers receive this little goodie) and thoughts on more benefits to add for members. (There has been talk of putting together a Kim & Jason magazine, possibly in digital format at first, featuring comics and articles about Escaping Adulthood.)

The whole idea of doing a Christmas premium came to me when I was talking to my brother, who is a dedicated member of the Pearl Jam fan club. The band produces a special Christmas single each year and sends it — on vinyl! — to their members. They have become quite coveted as collector’s items. My goal is to come up with something similar for Club K&J. Like I said, my noggin is filled with ideas, but I’m always open to more (just leave a comment:)

Didn’t mean to drag on and on, but I’m excited about the direction we’re headed and grateful to all the new subscribers. Welcome aboard!

As for the rest of you, we’d sure love to have you along for the ride! 

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I was in first grade. It was the first time I would eat dinner at a friend’s house. I was excited. Being the youngest I always longed to be ‘old enough’ to do all of the cool things my three older sisters could do…going to a friend’s house for dinner was one of those many things.

Julie and I played all afternoon and had a blast. Then supper came. We sat down with her parents and older brother. Julie was excited about what was for supper. I, on the other hand, was in pure panic mode.

"What are those?"

"Oh, they’re pizza pockets. They’re just like pizza. You’ll love them," Julie’s mom assured me.

I was NOT convinced. We had never had pizza pockets at my house. They didn’t look or smell like real pizza. I took one small bite and realized that I had a real problem on my hands. This being my first time eating over at a friend’s house I wasn’t going to make them mad by telling them that I didn’t like the meal they were all noticably excited about. So, what does a 6-year old girl do in this situation? Well, I proceeded to ‘fake’ bites while then hiding the ‘pocket’ in my fist, while very discretely transferring the ‘pocket’ into my very own jean pockets. Yep. All 8 of them, shoved into my jean pockets. I’ll never forget the consistency of the smooshed breading and the warmth of the sauce oozing through the not-so-thick pocket fabric onto my leg. I’m sure they had no clue, right?

My mom reassured me later that evening as she made me a grilled cheese sandwich that it, in fact, would’ve been fine if I had just told them I didn’t like the pizza pockets. I think this was after she scraped all of the remains out of my pizza stained pockets. Thanks, Mom.

I was reminded of this experience today in the frozen pizza section of the grocery store. It’s funny what will conjure up memories from years ago.

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A phrase that I often heard and used while teaching Kindergarten was ‘age appropriate.’ You knew right away when something was NOT age appropriate in a room full of twenty-plus five and six year olds. For instance, the well-intended volunteer who proceeds to tell a story to the wiggly rug-rats that is way over their little heads, which then leads to chaos ensuing when the bored kiddos simultaneously decide they are done listening. Recipe for disaster.

I feel like I’ve been on both sides as an adult, witnessing the disaster in my classroom, as well as being the student in someone else’s classroom. Have you ever been stuck listening to a speaker or teacher who is just plain b-o-r-i-n-g? Everyone has had the situation where you are thinking, ‘these are minutes I am never getting back.’

Jason has been doing speaking in one form or another for the past five years. Being on the road together is super inspiring and it is neat seeing him able to connect effectively with so many different types of groups. Jason loves speaking to adults. He also has a real gift for connecting to intergenerational audiences. This is truly his area of expertise. One of the programs he offers is for ages 5-105…and it truly is. He has this amazing ability to connect with groups, offering them inspiration, humor, cartooning, encouragement and wisdom. Lately he’s been doing a whole lot of whole community catechesis programs for Catholic churches. The concept is gathering together households of faith for intergenerational assemblies. Spiritual education should not end in high school. We should be lifelong learners. I certainly couldn’t get away with not continuing my education as a teacher and expect to renew my teaching license every five years.

Being used to teaching in classrooms with students that are the same ages, Jason has taught me that groups of people of all ages have a lot to learn from each other. He just has a way of being ‘age appropriate’ with every age at the same time. And his message is universal.

Every person has a wealth of lessons to share with others…whether you are my 92 year-old Grandpa, aka Boompa, or my spunky nieces and nephews who have only lived a small fraction of Boompa’s life. I have learned so much from all of them about the importance of seeing life through the eyes of a child.                                                     

Technorati Tags: whole community catechesis, age appropriate, intergenerational

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I finally got around to posting some pictures from the Seattle trip. (Check out my Escape Adulthood photo album) It’s hard to sum up the whole experience in photos. I think that when people go to visit new places, they try and take a million pictures of everything they see and do. And they end up taking the same standard shots that everybody else takes. In most cases, the pictures never do the place justice, and you’re always a little disappointed that you weren’t able to capture the "feel" of the place. Somehow, your photos never end up as good as the postcards you bought in the hotel gift shop.

Of course, my iPhoto album is jammed with way too many boring shots of the Seattle skyline that I took while on the Bremerton ferry. But I tried to make a conscious effort to look at things just a little bit differently. We bought a few really good "skyline" postcards and then I focused on small slices of Seattle; the little things. Surprisingly, I have found that these shots end up doing a much better job of helping me to remember the feeling I had while there. They capture the specific flavor and unique feel of my personal experience.

Next time you find yourself someplace new and want to chronicle your visit, don’t try to photograph everything. Focus on the little things that catch your eye. The things that give you that tiny spark of childlike wonder. Feel free to pick up a few picture perfect postcards in the gift shop if you want to. But a few years down the line, those postcards will be in a neglected shoe box somewhere, while one of those photos you took with a childlike perspective will be on a wall, starting spirited conversations and stirring up treasured memories.

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Attention scrapbooking aficionados! Michelle Thompson at Scrapability has taken the 8 Secrets from Childhood from my ChangeThis manifesto (free download) and applied them to the art of scrapbooking. She correctly (and wittily) states, "The link into any seri-arse scrapper’s identity — the ability, just for a bit, to escape adulthood, remember your childhood and simply ‘to play’."

I think scrapbooking is indeed a great way to tap into that childlike  creative spirit in a "grown-up" way. Definitely more productive than sitting in front of the boob tube. Here’s Michelle’s scrapbooking slant on the 8 Secrets:

1. Delight in the little things (take photos of the small details of life)
2. Dream Big (Submit, learn, encourage other scrappers)
3. Get curious (Discuss the industry, explore other creative outlets)
4. Live passionately (Scrap passionately - throw paint on the layout, screw up your rejects - it’s only paper!)
5. Play (Play - and not just with your stash. Play with your kids, your cat, or your partner too. )
6. Be Honest (Be Prepared to have an opinion about your craft)
7. Have faith (Crafting is spiritual - you’re putting something of yourself into it. Have faith in yourself, and in your family to see the beauty of it)
8. Maintain Perspective (When it comes down to it, it’s a hobby. Don’t spend more time in your scrapping room, and miss out on actually living the life with your family which you’re trying to scrap)

I love how Michelle tailored the secrets to her own field of interest. I’m sure the same thing could probably be done for any field. Perhaps even astrophysics?

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Got back from Seattle yesterday. A full day of speaking engagements on Sunday wore me out, but they went really well. I’d like to welcome all of the new Kim & Jason readers in the Pacific Northwest…thanks for the warm reception!

I’m glad to be home for a sense of “normalcy” before Kim and I are off to Rhode Island and Boston in a few weeks, but I can’t wait to go back to Seattle for another visit. Great city, great people. It reminds me of Madison on steroids.

Kim and I had Saturday off, and we crammed in as much sightseeing as we could. We drove west to see Snoqualmie Falls, which reminded me of two things: The way down reminded me the awesomeness of God’s creation; the hike back up reminded me that I will not be confused as a competitor in the Ironman World Championship anytime soon. Then we headed back to the Seattle waterfront, where we got to watch feeding time for the otters at the Aquarium. (To watch a little video of this ordeal, click here and then turn your monitor on its side:)

We had to head back to the Pike Place Market, where we discovered the extremely childlike “Gum Wall,” which is a brick wall under the market featuring many, many wads of discarded gum from locals and tourists all over the world. Perhaps it’s my artsy side coming out, but I found it to be quite beautiful. Kim thought it was cool, but even though she is smiling in this picture, she was pretty much disgusted by it.

After a ferry ride across Puget Sound, we finished our day at Anthony’s at Pier 66 for dinner. Thanks to some cajoling from Kim, I went ahead and ordered the fresh dungeness crab, which, I am happy to report, was pure heaven in an exoskeleton. I got an official bib, too.

All in all, a great trip and a great opportunity to help people Escape Adulthood. It was nice meeting some new friends.

And eating others.

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…my feet won’t let me.

Kim and I had a chance to get out and explore Seattle yesterday. We’re big walkers, and we did a lot of it. I think you just get a much better feel for the city by walking as much as you can; you get a real vibe for the place. By the end of the day, my feet started to revolt, but by the grace of New Balance, they are still here to talk about it. We parked in the shadow of the Space Needle, and walked west toward Puget Sound, then south to the famous Pike Place Market. It certainly lived up to its billing as the soul of the city. Being from Madison, I am no stranger to the idea of an open-air farmer’s market, but this is a whole different thing altogether. The sights, the sounds, the smells…awesome.

We watched a few fish get tossed around, and Kim got to get up close and personal with one. I marveled at the stacks of dungeness crab, believing that if I lived here I’d eat them every day. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds as we strolled the market, stopping to snack on a Russian piroshki and check out the original Starbucks. We liked the market so much, I’m pretty sure we’ll stop there on Saturday again, when we have some more time to troll about.

We did the obligatory ascent up the Space Needle as the sun started to descend, which gave us breathtaking views of the sunset over the Sound as well as the city at night. (See the view for yourself here.) There is just something so peaceful about being up that high, looking over a city. Everything seems to be working efficiently; even the traffic seems calm. It makes you feel so small, at once putting your problems in perspective while appreciating the ginormity of the One who designed it all.

Today is a work day, capped off by a speaking engagement here in Bellevue to a group of married couples. Kim and I are already planning what to do on Saturday, when we’ll have some more time to soak in Seattle, which so far has not been too soggy.

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