The hedge that enclosed our side yard seemed too tall for me to jump over. But every summer morning, I took a running start and cleared the hedge on my way to the rec center across the street. No one could figure out how I hurdled that hedge—even when they stood there watching. But I was determined.
The hedge was a gateway to adventure, challenges, and refreshing summer fun in the 1970s. The big city was all around us, but our little village felt like its own world. The rec center was the heartbeat of our summer.
A Village in the City
I grew up in Biscayne Park. The city life of greater Miami surrounded us. But within those village blocks, we felt like a small town with quiet streets and shady trees.
Everyone knew each other. Mayor Burke lived a few houses down. I was friends with his daughter and went to her birthday parties. Kids felt safe to walk or bike ride on the village streets, surrounded by familiar faces everywhere we went.
The rec center was our summer gathering spot. They offered a full schedule of activities every day while school was out. Lots of field trips thrown in. We could never get bored and always had a place to hang out.
The Rec Center
The rec center, otherwise known as “the park,” was convenient for me. It was right across the street from our house. I suppose my mom appreciated that she could keep an eye on me from the kitchen window. But I didn’t pay attention to those details. When I arrived at the rec center each morning, I was in a whole new world.
The rec center started out as a small building and pavilion surrounded by a playground, ball fields, grassy areas, and lots of trees that were perfect for climbing.
I remember when they poured the concrete floor to create a bigger rec room for classes and hangouts. I was thrilled when they built the racquetball court. My parents bought me a racquet and a can of racquetballs, and I discovered a vibrant new world.
The rec center also added a fenced-in tot lot with shiny new playground equipment, which was fair game for elementary school kids as long as no tots were there.
New playground equipment was added in different areas over the years. But it was the big old slide we enjoyed the most—making it more challenging by running up the slide and then sliding down the support poles.
The old parallel bars presented a daily challenge for me. I was short with little strength in my arms. And I was nervous about falling. But I was determined to climb up and sit on top of those bars.
Took at least a whole summer to get there. But it was worth the effort. The day I finally sat on top of those bars, I was grinning from ear to ear. I felt a brand new confidence. I climbed up again many times over the years, thrilled that I could do so.
Summer Adventures at the Rec Center
The parallel bars weren’t my only achievement. My first summer at the rec center, I had never skated. Most Fridays, we would have a field trip to a skating rink.
The first time, I held onto the wall for a while as I tried to stay upright. I let go for a few paces and grabbed hold again. The beat of the music was a constant motivator, so I kept at it.
By the end of that summer, and every summer after, I was tearing up the floor, feet moving in time to my favorite tunes—“Wildfire” in the early years, “Night Fever” in the later years—and feeling like I owned the world.
Our week was filled with outdoor activities, and these were a new challenge too. I had never played kickball. I was terrified of getting hurt, and the adult coaches who ran the games looked so intimidating.
But the coaches were kind and took the time to teach me, to show me how to run, when to kick, and how to play without fear. By the end of the summer, kickball was one of my favorite games. And I loved the winning-team prizes of soda and chocolate.
Some activities were more my speed. Sprinkler parties, ceramics, disco dance classes, learning to do the Hustle. I was better at organized activities than just hanging out because I was socially pretty awkward.
Then they brought in an air hockey table, which was all the rage. I watched a few kids play, and it looked a little scary. A friend of mine, who was always coaxing me out of my shell, suggested I try it, and she’d go easy on me.
I stepped up to the table, set down the puck, and watched in amazement as it hovered over those little puffs of air. I was entranced. As I hit the puck and watched it slide across to the goal, I became air hockey’s biggest fan.
For the rest of the summer, whenever we had hangout time, no one could pry me away from that air hockey table. I won my fair share of games. If I lost a game, I was right back in line to go again. Air hockey was just plain fun, and it gave me a way to fit in.
Learning to Speak Up
I was a shy kid. Not a quiet kid, but shy until I got to know someone better. I was really not good at speaking up.
The lady who ran the rec program knew I was shy. She was always very kind to me, but she was determined to draw me out of my shell.
Normally, if I needed something, I would stand quietly until she looked up and acknowledged me. Then I felt free to speak.
One summer, I stood quietly, waiting to give her my permission slip for our roller skating field trip that Friday. She ignored me. I knew she saw me, but she kept walking around without acknowledging me.
Finally, I went home and told my mom what happened.
My mom said, “Yes, and she is going to keep ignoring you until you speak up.”
Do you sense a conspiracy?
From that point on, if I needed something, I called the lady’s name, and she turned to help me.
It might seem like a hard way to help a kid find courage, but it worked. By the end of that summer, I wasn’t just learning new skills or sports; I was learning to find my voice.
The Summer Finale
Each summer ended with a field trip over to Miami Beach—Haulover and Surfside were our favorites. We’d all caravan in the coaches’ and chaperones’ cars. Some of the older kids would ride bicycles, as the beach wasn’t that far away, about four miles, a 15-minute drive.
I loved the beach—the sand, the surf, tossing frisbees, burgers on the grill. I always felt so free. As I looked out across the ocean, I could see the whole world open in front of me with every imaginable opportunity. Our beach finale felt like the perfect celebration of the end of summer, remembering all the fun and reflecting on my new sense of confidence and lessons learned.
Our beach trip also seemed like the perfect kickoff to a new school year and to the future that awaited—a future we would shape, just by being who we were, and by knowing we belonged.
Looking back, I realize that every morning when I hurdled that hedge, I wasn’t just running across the street. I was also leaping into courage, laughter, and learning to find my place in the world.
The rec center might have been just a building and some acres across from our house. But it was also the place where I learned to speak up, to try new things, and to allow myself to experience confidence in small victories.
It’s where a shy kid found her voice, where I discovered I could skate fast, play kickball and air hockey without fear, and that it was okay to be known, to belong.
I hope no matter what stage of life you’re in, you’ll find a place like that too—where you can play, grow, find your voice, feel a sense of belonging, and discover what’s possible. You’re never too young or too old for wonderful adventures.
Exploring Generations 