D-Stresing
Diane Stresing
Take a Walk: A Theory on Genetics and Advice on Parenting, Dating, Shopping, and Living in a River Town
Some gifts keep on giving. My dad gave me the hiking gene, and I’m pretty sure his dad gave it to him. Grandpa was a walker.
to extend your vacation time and gives sweet memories a chance to seep a little deeper into your psyche.
Good thing, too, because Grandpa wasn’t much for talking – unless he was walking. As I remember, he rarely spoke at our extended family gatherings. But when he stood up and announced that he was going for a walk, I always wanted to go.
When we return home, I invariably find myself longing for more vacation time. And I find a walk helps. Coincidence? I don’t think so. Walking = “time off.”
For years my kids have fussed at me, saying (among other things) that I walk too fast. I say that I learned to walk fast because I wanted to keep up with my dad and grandpa on those walks. But it wasn’t because I was afraid of being left behind. It was because I didn’t want to miss a word. Now I like to walk with my kids because I realize that walking has a way of bringing about delightful conversations, and silences.
Travel Advice: Take a Walk When we travel, I try to find a “good local walk,” for a few reasons. There’s the obvious: “Stretching our legs” is a euphemism for “let’s get out of this car before we kill each other.” Another benefit: Walking in an unfamiliar area affords a unique, not-too-touristy view of things. Also, I believe that walking slows the pace, of life in general. Walking a bit when you travel seems
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Parenting Advice: Take a Walk When I was a teenager, I drove to the mall and looked for trouble in cars. Yeah, I know it still happens, even here. But there are also places in Kent to walk, where teenagers (or any agers) can make some good memories. Last year, dear old friends who have settled in Oregon visited, and a bunch of us reunioned at (where else?) Ray’s. It didn’t take long for the kids to grow bored with our stories. My teen stood up and said, “Come on, let’s go for a walk.” Those of us of legal drinking age stayed put; the younger generation headed across the bridge, down to the trail, and eventually into the river. (They dried.) Somebody said they were looking for a geocache. I’m not really sure what happened (and might be better off not knowing) but I’m pretty sure some memories were made. On foot. I’m OK with that.