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Thrill-Seekers Try to Outsmart the Grim Reaper
–by Wendy Kelly
In the winter of 1999, at 4:30 in the afternoon, Brett Murray Carlson, a young man from Alberta, Canada, fell to his death in a residential neighborhood in Whistler, British Columbia, while attempting a ski jump over a standard two-lane road. The street Carlson chose to jump over was in my former residential neighborhood, a road I frequently walked up with my son. “He suffered multiple injuries to his head, chest and lower limbs and died instantly,” wrote Daniel Sieberg in the Vancouver Sun.
Carlson’s friends were on hand videotaping the event, ready to catch the historic, 30-meter (100 foot) jump on film. His 15 minutes of fame, as it were. These days, it’s possible for all of us to have our 15 minutes of fame — and possibly fortune. You don¹t need lots of money to get started. All you need is a friend with a camera, a pair of skis, and you’re off. And if you’re lucky, you might end up on television making millions of dollars endorsing orange juice or sunglasses. Indeed, sponsorships for extreme sports are now in the millions of dollars, tempting the already daring to new limits of death-defying stunts.
In some ways you could say things have never changed. The 18- to 30-year-old demographic has always been a group of thrill-seekers and dare-devils. In the 1950′s, “playing chicken” was a part of adolescence. In earlier times, young people went off to seek their fortunes: Climbing aboard a ship setting sail for the “New World;” hitching up the covered wagon to head West, young man; becoming a pirate, a cowboy, a soldier. In the accelerated age, however, what is considered extreme is picking up speed. Attempting to outsmart the grim reaper has always been part of adolescence. Putting it on ESPN has not.
In 1995, ESPN developed the $10-million, first annual, Olympics-style Extreme Games. In 1998, snowboarding went mainstream at the Olympics in Nagano, Japan. What had been extreme only three years earlier was now sanctioned – legitimized – by the International Olympic Committee.
Thanks to sports networks and the mainstream media, what used to happen in the wilderness and backcountry is now in-your-face — and in your backyard. And by sanctioning and sanitizing extreme sports, we legitimize them, which is exactly what the young adult demographic doesn’t want. So they further push the limit of what is considered “extreme.”
According to The Seattle Times, Carlson had “started on a 100-foot-high cliff in a residential area of Whistler and had hoped to build up enough speed to hurl himself off a makeshift ramp part way down, fly over a road and land on the other side.” Unfortunately, he didn’t make it. His body lay lifeless on a quiet cul-de-sac while his friends rushed to call the paramedics.
Carlson’s former employer, Jean Hunt, co-owner of the Calgary Ski Cellar, said in the Calgary Sun, extreme skiing “is just like any other sport — it’s something people really want to do even if death is a possibility.”
–Wendy Kelly, bkelly@whistlernet.com
http://www.iparentingcanada.com/articles/toddlers/living-next-door-to-batman-1951/
Toddlers and Imaginary Friends
By Wendy Kelly
My son and I start our day in a fairly boring fashion. We wake up, let the gorillas out, have breakfast and are invited to join our neighbors on a walk. As we approach the group, my son asks me if Batman will be joining us. As it turns out, 4-year-old Ted* is himself today, so Batman doesn’t make an appearance.
And we are fairly normal.
About 30 percent of North American children have an imaginary companion — and for boys to create animals or to actually “become” the imaginary companion is common.
Typically, a child will create a companion for himself starting at age 2, but children as young as 18 months will begin to pretend, using a block as a cookie or miming drinking from a cup.
It was once believed that children with imaginary companions were abnormal, insecure, shy. This misinformation came about in part because past studies used “problem” children as a control group — in one study done in the 1940s, the children interviewed were patients on the Children’s Ward of Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital. Is it any wonder, then, that negative reasons emerged for the friend’s appearance?
But even as children with imaginary friends were condemned, they also were believed to be more intelligent than average. Both studies have since been debunked: Children with robust imaginations tend to be more outgoing than their less-imaginative peers, and differences in intelligence levels are small enough to be insignificant.
In our case, gorillas first appeared when our son first understood that we would have a new baby in the house. And after he began grappling with toilet training, monkeys — ones who pooped on the floor — appeared out of nowhere. This is fairly normal. First or only children will often create a friend when they need one. These are usually social children who are happy to create a playmate when a real one is unavailable.
Down the street, Batman sometimes shows up. Other times, it’s Captain Hook or Spiderman. Four-year-old Ted becomes his characters so convincingly that he will not break character for an entire play date. My son often asks with whom we are going to play or if Batman will be there today.
Most toddlers believe in Santa Claus and have trouble distinguishing fantasy from reality on television. As one young child explained when asked about characters on Sesame Street: “I know that Big Bird isn’t real. That’s just a costume. There’s just a plain bird inside.” But when it comes to their own pretend play, toddlers are surprisingly adept at flipping in and out of fantasy and reality.
One young boy had an elaborate pretend farm. When he overheard a group of his parents’ friends talking about his farm, he whispered to his father: “Tell them it isn’t a real farm.”
In her research, Taylor has often encountered a child who helps the interviewer out by saying: “It’s just pretend, you know,” or, “She isn’t real.” Children have the ability to recognize the imaginary companion for what it is, according to Taylor, because it is “a private act of fantasy controlled by the child him or herself.” We create cultural myths for the child and reinforce their reality at every possible turn: We leave out cookies for Santa, write notes from the Tooth Fairy and make up elaborate schemes about how the Easter Bunny lays eggs.
But imaginary companions are totally of the child’s making, and children know exactly what they are doing.
And that is the experience I have had with my neighbor and my son. Even though my son addresses our neighbor as Batman or Spiderman and plays along with him, he is completely aware that he is playing with Ted. That is not to say that things can’t get carried away. Even as adults, we know a scary movie is make believe, but we are afraid anyway. In the same way, imaginary companions can be dear friends — or scary, intimidating bullies.
Taylor relates a story of a child with an imaginary companion named Shark. Sometimes Shark was friendly, but Shark could be nasty as well and scared the little boy who imagined him. The solution was for the mother to have a talk with Shark as if he were real.
When my son came running upstairs one night calling out in a frightened voice: “Monkeys and gorillas mommy! There are monkeys and gorillas downstairs!” I decided to simply play along, and I quickly adopted a rule that all friends, imaginary or not, had to abide by the same rules in our house. “Did you invite them?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied. “Are they being polite?” I asked. “No,” he answered, thoughtfully. “Well then, maybe it’s time for them to go home,” I said, and we marched downstairs where I proceeded to ask, forcefully, for these unwanted “friends” to go home. It worked, and now I can occasionally hear my son asking his “friends” to go home when they are not being friendly.
Another toddler Taylor encountered had an imaginary sick bunny. The sick bunny had to be looked after, and so the child would not accompany the family on outings. Taylor suggested creating a nurse bunny to look after sick bunny. The parents did this, and it worked! As long as the bunny was taken care of, the child could leave.
At our home, all is well. We occasionally have stampeding horses run from the dining room to the living room. The gorillas continue to sleep with my husband and me, taking the idea of a family bed to new heights. A goose lives outdoors in the dirt. And the monkeys are still welcome.
As long as they clean up after themselves.
And we are fairly normal.
