A brief history of the simplest summer past times
It’s the last gasp of summer, a morning that feels more July than late September. My daughter sleeps snuggly in the baby carrier that’s become an extension of myself, and my son leads me
confidently across the park, to His Swing, the only one low enough to the ground for a
toddler to ride without his mother worrying about a big fall. We’re well-rehearsed at what
comes next: He reaches for me, and I lift him onto the black plastic, drink in that
adorable grin, begin pushing him while bursting into an enthusiastic rendition of “Swingin’
in the Park.”
Several showtune parodies later, I’m losing my touch, reaching for rhymes, and instead
of continuing the musical of our life, I follow my son’s eyes to the sky. There, an
airplane; I lose myself for a moment, watching it disappear over the horizon. When I
look back at my son, my mouth drops open.
“Are you swinging yourself?” I ask excitedly. He shrugs like it’s no big thing, like he was
born to propel himself higher and faster through the air while I watch in wonder.
Wonder, I do. I wonder who invented swings.
“They do feel a little Parisian,” I tell my son as he kicks and swings. Then it hits me: I
didn’t teach him to pump his legs to continue the motion, but here he is, 20 months old,
swinging himself on the big-kid swing in the middle of the park. Is it the sensation? Or is
swinging instinctive, a motion we’re born to do the way running is a motion our ancient
ancestors perfected out of necessity? If it’s instinctive, swings, therefore, must predate
France, my tired mom brain thinks.
I add “swings” to my list of things to research later and continue playing in the park.
When we arrive home, my son runs past the sidewalk chalk art our neighbors created to
the bubbles waiting on our front porch. Bubbles, I think, laughing as he blows with
furrowed brows and delights in the resulting soapy spheres floating above, are another
staple of childhood summers. How did soap become synonymous with carefree fun?
These questions (and more!) are answered later that evening. I tuck my son into bed,
nurse his sister, and Google “when did bubbles become a toy?”
Quite to my surprise, bubbles have brought joy to children (and kids at heart!) since
ancient times, according to the Internet. Archaeological evidence suggests people
fashioned reeds into wands and transformed soap made from animal fat into beautiful
rainbow spheres that soared high above the Mesopotamian and Roman soil. Several
Flemish paintings from the 17th century include scenes of children blowing bubbles with
clay pipes, suggesting the act was an established kids game, and in the 19th century,
London’s A&F Pears launched an ad campaign featuring a child playing with bubbles.
In the 1940s, the cleaning supply company Chemtoy began mass-producing and
bottling bubble solution, and the solution as a toy continued growing in popularity
through the ’40s.
We owe rose-colored hours of twirling about on, jumping from, and flying on swings to a
sir Charles Wicksteed, who first debuted the modern swing alongside slides at his
Wicksteed Park in Kettering, England, in 1921. But Wicksteed owes his swinging
success to ancient cultures. A terracotta sculpture found on Crete depicts a woman on a
swing – and dates to about 1450-1300 BCE. Ancient Greek art showcases people
swinging. There’s historical evidence that swings were used to collect fruit in China, and
as a form of leisure in Polynesia.
While bubbles and swings are ancient, sidewalk chalk is a slightly more modern
pastime. Street art has its roots in 16th century Italy, when artists called Madonnaris
traveled about, creating religious images (usually of the Blessed Mother, hence the
name) on city streets using chalk, charcoal and tile. In Victorian-era England,
“screevers,” or street artists, decorated the roads in a form of sidewalk chalk.
In the late 1970s, Boston-based artist Robert “Sidewalk Sam” Guillemin burst onto the
scene; his work gained traction and propelled street art into the mainstream through the
’80s. Cities, including Pittsburgh, showcase unbelievable sidewalk chalk talent at
summer festivals, but it’s just as fun making ephemeral art on the driveway with your
toddler.
What’s even more fun than an afternoon sidewalk chalking, swinging, or bubble
blowing? Seeing the world through your child’s eyes. Wondering things you’ve never
wondered. And cultivating a deeper appreciation for the simplest things, like summer
pastimes whose rich histories make them all the more enjoyable.
Katherine Mansfield is a former staff writer for the Observer-Reporter who now serves as a full-time mom and freelance writer.