Time Outdoors: A tonic walk in nature

Last month, I asked my 13-year-old daughter if she was “free for a walk.” It was a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, and she was home early from school. With some persuasion and reminders about the importance of exercise, she agreed to join me.

After a long, cold winter, spring was in the air, and the light was soft and peaceful. As we walked, she mentioned how the rich, verdant smell reminded her of trips to Florida. In the woods, we were thrilled to hear peepers and the distinctive call of redwing blackbirds in the reeds near the pond. Harbingers of spring, at long last. It felt good to be out — to breathe the warm air and work the legs a little.

We talked about life and growing up, and she pointed out “the balancing tree” where I held her tiny hand to help her cross the slippery trunk of a fallen log when she was little. It was still there — a decade gone by, just like that. This patch of town forest has given us so much over the years. A constant.

As we walked home, we did not consider just how lucky we were to have shared this time together. To be refreshed by nature. To have seen what the woods had shared with us. And why would we? We were free to walk again tomorrow, if we wished. 

Echoes of persecution

A few hours later, our family attended an Intergenerational Speaker Series at the Ellen Garrison Building at Acton Middle School. I sat with my daughter, and we heard a story of survival and hope from Jack Trompeter, a Jewish Holocaust survivor who spent the first three years of his life being raised by strangers after his parents went into hiding. Just because of who they were at birth, his mother and father were forced to give him up and live in an attic for almost three years, leaving just once for a dentist visit.

Due to an improbable series of events and circumstances and the kindness of others, Jack and his parents survived the war and were reunited after Germany’s surrender in the spring of 1945. 

In the Netherlands, about 300,000 people hid from the Nazis and their sympathizers, thanks to a network of Dutch people who risked everything to save others. The dread and anxiety those hiding must have felt is beyond imagination. 

Along with the constant fear of betrayal and discovery, the physical and emotional impacts of being deprived of fresh air and sunlight must have been profound. Jack described the deep emotional trauma that he and other survivors carried after the war. Even though his ordeal ended when he was very young, he suffered several nervous breakdowns as a result.

His story was profoundly impactful and moving. I was able to shake his hand afterward and look him in the eye and say thank you. Though the gesture seemed entirely insufficient considering the gift of perspective he had given us, I was glad I did. We were emotional as we stepped outside that evening, and the cool air was like a tonic. I looked at my wife and daughters and started thinking about our walk earlier that day.

An everyday luxury

What we take for granted would have been an unimaginable luxury to the thousands who hid from almost inconceivable peril simply because of when and where they were born. Who they were. 

To take an afternoon stroll. To look up at the bright blue spring sky, to feel the wind, to breathe in the rich smell of the earth awakening from its winter slumber. To hear the birds. Imagine what it must have felt like to take a walk outside in that spring of 1945. Finally free.

That was just 81 years ago. A split second in the grand scheme of things. And what have we learned since? Right now, all over the world, there are families unable to venture outside. Hiding in landscapes bombed and shelled and barren. Flinching at sounds and holding their children tight. Spring is trying its best to bring warmth and life back to farms and fields and cities blasted and ruined for power and profit.

There are many ways to measure the impact of conflict, and I am sure that a walk outside with my daughter could be viewed as trivial. For me, that day, it was the currency of measurement that rang most true. A simple thing, but emblematic — as but one example of what can be taken away if we do not remain vigilant. 

Thanks to the brave and unflinching way Jack shared his story, a simple walk in the woods now holds deeper meaning. I’m glad my daughter, who is the same age as Anne Frank was when she went into hiding, chose to join me. 

I hope this spring you will savor the freedom you have to simply take a walk in the woods. Perhaps you will make different choices to help protect the environment we all share. Perhaps you will peacefully march and speak out, so families everywhere can spend Time Outdoors together. 

Wilson Kerr lives in Acton and is an avid outdoorsman and amateur naturalist. This monthly column is written to help grow awareness of the wonders of nature. In this increasingly fast-paced and technology-packed world, it is important to stop and take in the beauty of our area and the animals that inhabit it. The author hopes this column will be read by families and used as a teaching tool and that you will spend more … Time Outdoors.