When we were kids…
Certain things seemed absolutely essential.
Then one day we grew up…
And somehow forgot how important they really were.
When I was growing up in Brooklyn, New York, there were certain things every kid simply had to know.
Not because adults told us.
Not because there was a rule book.
Not because it was taught in school.
But because it was part of being a kid.
Part of belonging.
Part of growing up.
The world of children is a fascinating world.
It has its own language.
Its own customs.
Its own rules.
Its own treasures.
And somehow, everyone understands them.
One of the first requirements in my neighborhood was Pig Latin.
You had to know it.
It was used for fun.
For laughs.
For secrets.
For bonding.
I even put it on job applications years later under languages spoken.
Pig Latin…fluently.
Oddly enough, no employer ever brought it up.
I still wonder why.
Hopscotch was another requirement.
If you saw a hopscotch pattern drawn on the sidewalk, you played.
Simple as that.
It didn’t matter where you were going.
You stopped.
You hopped.
You smiled.
Then you continued on your journey.
Skipping rope was mandatory for the girls.
And secretly enjoyable for some of us boys too.
Though admitting that publicly might have carried certain consequences.
Punch ball.
Dodge ball.
Stick ball.
Marbles.
Yo-yos.
Baseball cards.
These weren’t hobbies.
They were part of childhood citizenship.
Everyone participated.
Everyone understood.
Everyone belonged.
Climbing fences was practically considered advanced education.
I always believed fences were invitations rather than obstacles.
The taller the fence…
The greater the adventure.
A Duncan Yo-Yo wasn’t just a toy.
It was a status symbol.
Walking the dog.
Around the world.
Rocking the cradle.
Mastering those tricks earned respect.
At least among people under twelve.
Baseball cards were serious business.
Trading them.
Collecting them.
Protecting them.
Risking them in games.
The names alone became legends.
Willie Mays.
Mickey Mantle.
Heroes printed on cardboard.
Treasures beyond measure.
At least to us.
Watching The Three Stooges was required viewing.
Every kid had a favorite.
Every kid practiced the Curly shuffle.
Every kid attempted the sound effects.
Every kid laughed until their stomach hurt.
Then there were The Little Rascals.
A masterpiece of childhood.
Kids being kids.
Adventures.
Trouble.
Friendships.
First crushes.
Big dreams.
Small victories.
Everything that mattered.
As I wrote in Pearls for the Soul:
“The child never truly leaves us. We simply stop inviting him out to play.”
— Richie Naggar, Pearls for the Soul
Looking back now, something strikes me.
None of those activities cost much money.
Most cost nothing.
Yet they delivered enormous value.
Friendship.
Laughter.
Adventure.
Imagination.
Belonging.
Community.
Joy.
The things we were really collecting weren’t baseball cards or marbles.
We were collecting moments.
We were collecting memories.
We were collecting pieces of ourselves.
Then something happened.
We grew up.
The things that once seemed absolutely necessary became obsolete.
The yo-yos disappeared.
The hopscotch faded away.
The marbles got packed into boxes.
The baseball cards found their way into drawers.
The games stopped.
Responsibilities arrived.
Schedules appeared.
Careers emerged.
And the child quietly stepped into the background.
But I often wonder…
Why?
Why do we leave behind so many things that brought us joy?
Why do we abandon play?
Why do we outgrow wonder?
Why do we stop being fascinated by simple things?
Perhaps we were never meant to completely leave them behind.
Perhaps childhood wasn’t something to escape.
Perhaps it was something to remember.
Maybe those games were teaching us lessons we didn’t fully understand at the time.
How to connect.
How to imagine.
How to laugh.
How to lose.
How to win.
How to belong.
How to live in the moment.
Maybe growing older doesn’t require abandoning the child within.
Maybe wisdom means bringing that child along for the ride.
Because some of the happiest people I have ever met still know how to play.
Still know how to laugh.
Still know how to wonder.
Still know how to appreciate the little things.
And perhaps that is the real secret.
Growing older is mandatory.
Growing up completely…
May be optional.
The next time life feels too serious…
Too complicated.
Too heavy.
Take a moment.
Remember the games.
Remember the laughter.
Remember the wonder.
Remember the kid.
He’s still in there.
Waiting patiently for recess.
— Richie
Pearls for the Soul
when you feed the soul, you feed everything.
https://pearlsforthesoul.com
Been expecting you