I. Two Sides of a Single-Edged Blade

Franklin Park, Illinois, December 25, 2021

The sword was suspended in the basement rafters with a message from 1945 still secured to its fittings. My grandfather and I were sitting one floor above it at his kitchen table when an email arrived. It was 9:17 A.M. on Christmas Day in 2021, the Chicago weather too mild, the ground too much of a defeated brown, and the gathering too small to suggest that anything festive was about to happen. A notification lit up my phone with the subject line “Merry Christmas and a letter from Umeki-san.”

The timing was convenient. I was visiting for the holidays, staying at my mother’s childhood home in Franklin Park, ten miles west of Chicago. My parents were there, too. My grandfather, Joseph Kasser, who goes by Ben or Benny, built the home in 1957 for a family of four that eventually dwindled to one. My mom, Kathy, was the first to go, leaving for college in 1971; my grandma Alice died in 2008; my uncle Bob died in 2010. They left Benny alone on Louis Street with a lifetime of modest possessions. Among them was a Japanese sword he’d found on an Okinawa beach in the final days of World War II.

It was six months after I first asked Benny if he’d be interested in finding the sword’s owner. I don’t remember what I said to start the conversation. I do remember that I was nervous asking a man who doesn’t own much to part ways with a keepsake he’d found during perhaps the most consequential time of his life as an antiaircraft gunner in the U.S. Army. He didn’t hesitate. He said, “Sure.”

It was one of those inspired “sure”s that really mean “absolutely,” a posture-correcting “sure,” an energy-intoned “sure,” not “I suppose” or “if you want.” A momentous syllable that set something off. It was apparently something he had considered.

Now, on Christmas Day, I didn’t know if the email that had arrived contained good news about our quest. I read it silently while sitting at the kitchen table, where I had heard one side of the story for more than three decades.

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When I heard the news that a for reckless conduct after someone spotted her ten-year-old son walking alone less than a mile from home, the first thing I did was open Google Maps. I looked up the distance between my house and a nearby middle school that my six-year-old daughter sometimes walks to with a friend her age. They get a thrill from playing at its playgroundĚýwithout a grown-upĚýaround, and I relish the freedom of getting the house to myself for half an hour.

Still, I’m relieved every time I hear my daughter’s voice approaching our driveway after one of her mini-adventures—which, according to my Google Maps search, spans less than half a mile round trip. My relief stems less from my concern that something might actually happen to her, and more from the possibilityĚýthat a neighbor or passerby might judge me to be negligent for letting her walk to a playground on her own.

Even before the story about the Georgia mom blew up the internet, I’d heard similar reports: the Texas mom handcuffed and jailed overnight for making her eight-year-old home; the Maryland siblings by police for playing alone at a playground.

Each time one of these stories makes headlines, the American public loses its collective shit. People from all sides of the political spectrum are equally outraged, agreeing (for once) that helicopter-parenting culture has gone too far. The same comments echo across the internet: When I was a kid, my parents didn’t care where we were, as long as we were home when the streetlights came on! Or: When I was that age, I walked home from school and babysat my younger siblings!Ěý

The parents I know in real life are similarly supportive of giving our children freedom to roam, and horrified that we might get in trouble for it. One friend has printed out and laminated a “” card for her eight-year-old to carry. If a concerned citizen tries to intervene, the child can present the card, which includes her parents’ phone number and states that she is not lost or neglected.

My sister-in-law, meanwhile, told me that two of her kids, ages 15 and 8, were recently walking home from the library when a nice older woman pulled her car alongside them, begging them to get in so she could give them a ride home. The woman was so distraught over what she perceived as the kids’ risky behavior that she thought asking them to get in a car with a stranger was better than letting them walk unsupervised down a familiar suburban street in broad daylight.

Though such lapses of judgement are well-intentioned, the chances of a child being either kidnapped or hit by a car are in the United States, and certainly lower than they were in the eighties and nineties when I was a kid. Yet in part because media reports tend to amplify violence and tragedy, such incidents can seem more common than they actually are, prompting some people to misjudge the risk of children acting independently.

Anecdotally, many of the people concerned by modern kids walking or playing alone seem to be who themselves had ample freedom growing up but may have watched too much CSI since then. My own peers—elder Millennials, mostly—have absorbed plenty of articles of letting our kids manage risks and build independence, and many of us try to encourage such behaviors.

A 2023 sort of backs this up, finding that only 28 percent of Millennial parents are “very concerned” about their child getting kidnapped. The same study found that Black and Hispanic parents are far more concerned than white or Asian parents about their kids getting shot, which aligns with demographic trends of gun violence and underscores the fact that free-range parenting is a privilege of living somewhere relatively safe.

Personally, I worry more about the societal or legal repercussions of letting my kid roam the neighborhood unsupervised than I do about some stranger snatching her up. But what if my concerns are just as overblown as those of the lady in the car who tried to stop my niece and nephew from walking home? Lenore Skenazy, who coined the term “free-range parenting” and co-founded the childhood independence nonprofit Let Grow, emphasizes that it’s for parents to face legal action for letting their kids play outside or walk home alone—so uncommon, in fact, that when it does happen, it becomes national news.

In other words, just as the risk of a child getting abducted is minuscule, so is the chance that someone will call the police if I let my six-year-old explore outside with a friend—especially now that more states are passing free-range parenting laws.

Parenting is inherently risky. The world is not and never will be fully safe. But instead of being influenced by stories of what could go wrong, maybe the best thing we can do for our kids and ourselves is to focus instead on all the things that are still OK—like my daughter, skipping up the driveway with her best friend, her cheeks flushed from cold and excitement, coming home just as the streetlights are turning on and I’m pulling a hot dinner from the oven.

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Whenever we go on family vacations, my husband is obsessed with activities. For instance, we recently had a day where we went fishing in the morning, went to a museum in the afternoon, and had tickets for a show in the evening. We had one unscheduled hour after lunch, and he insisted that we use it to take the toddler to the pool. He said she needed to be “active” because she had napped while we were fishing, even though she would have been fine playing quietly in the hotel room. The next day was gray and rainy, but he led us on a hike (I carried the baby and he carried the toddler), and then unilaterally decided to extend it partway through, but didn’t even mention to me that he was leading us on a longer route than we’d agreed on. By the time I caught on, both kids were exhausted and we were out of snacks, but there were still two miles left. I’ll admit I was pretty crabby about it.

I’d been up breastfeeding during the night and watched both kids in the morning while he worked out (I’m a stay-at-home mom, so this is pretty typical), and honestly I hadn’t even wanted to go hiking at all, and was just trying to be a good sport. I would much rather have relaxed for the afternoon. I know we’re spending money on the trip and should make the most of it, but does that have to mean filling every possible minute?

I asked a group of friends about their family travel experiences, and several of them nodded in recognition when I shared your story. One family even has a term for it: “Dad Camp,” referring to days filled with ambitious dad-planned activities that everyone else complains about. In their case, the term is one of half-endearment, a running joke as they all slog through, say, a desert hike in the scorching heat of the afternoon. Yes, it’s a gift to bring loved ones on adventures that they would never have considered alone. But it’s also a gift to consider their needs and energy levels; too much pressure can turn someone off an otherwise-fun activity forever.

I’m sure your husband means well. I imagine he misses his family while he’s at work, and he wants to tell people at work about his vacation. He doesn’t know how exhausting it is to care for a baby and a toddler because he rarely does it himself, and when he does, it’s a novelty; he can tell himself that the reason it’s so hard is because “you’re better at it.” I suspect that this dynamic is less about gender—that is, that it’s endemic to dads specifically—and far more about parents who aren’t primarily involved in childcare having FOMO about spending time with their family, not realizing that their kids’ stamina is more limited than theirs, and being oblivious about the degree to which their partner is working constantly and may need to rest, not hustle, when they get the chance. If your job is childcare, then traveling with kids . Is it wonderful? Absolutely! But it’s still the same work that you do at home—just harder.

The solution here is pretty straightforward: if he wants to do ambitious things on vacation, he should either bring the kids with him while you have solo time (he’ll learn darn quickly about what happens when you run out of snacks), or spend more time on childcare in general, so that you have the energy to join in. Does he recognize that if you watch the kids the whole time he works, that means that he has more responsibility—not less—to watch them when he’s not working? Is it possible that his lifestyle hasn’t changed all that much since becoming a parent, so he hasn’t yet learned that you can’t do every single thing you want when there’s a baby and toddler along? I’m curious, after your hike, if he realized that he’d made an error in unilaterally extending the trip. Did he apologize, and promise to learn from the experience? Or does he still think that he did nothing wrong?

Vacations need to work for the whole family, not just him. If you watched the kids for part of the morning while he exercised, he should watch them for the rest of the morning, so you get time for yourself, too. When you’re breastfeeding, that’s trickier, but he can still take the toddler with him. Maybe part of his workout could entail taking your older kid to a park and running in circles with her, or doing pushups with her on his back. Another option: a friend taught me recently about Baby Yoga, where you lie on the floor next to a baby and try to match and hold each pose they strike. I’ve rarely been so sore the next day.

You could also request that you each plan alternate days of the trip. Are you exhausted from his activities? No problem. The next day is for lounging in a cabana. This way, you can achieve a modicum of balance.

Suggesting these changes may make him feel hurt, or defensive, but if he has a fundamentally egalitarian attitude toward family life, then he should come to understand the logic behind your requests. If he’s stuck in the 1950s and believes that childcare is a woman’s job, then he should still realize that you can’t magically generate extra energy when it’s all going toward your kids. In that case, ironically, you may be able to put your foot down more, pulling rank as primary caregiver to have the final say on what the kids (and you) are actually capable of enjoying on any given day.

And if someone reading this feels a flicker of concern about whether they, too, may be spearheading “Dad Camp,” consider these questions.

1. Does your family want to do the fun and edifying things you plan?

A) Yes.

B) No, they say they don’t want to.

2. If your family says they don’t want to do the fun things you planned, what do you do?

A) Explain why they’re wrong, then make them do it anyway.

B) Listen to their concerns, and adjust accordingly. This doesn’t always mean canceling your activities, but you might shorten them, and add or subtract other things from the agenda.

If you selected A for both, congrats! You’re not a perpetrator of forced fun. And if you selected yes, you’ll be happy to know that there’s a simple solution: listen to the people you love.

Blair Braverman writes our Tough Love column. Last month, she gave advice on how to know when to quit your thru-hike and what to do when you can’t afford your friend group’s vacations.

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Kitzsteinhorn, a 10,000-foot Austrian peak that sits in the Alps just south of Salzburg, is not considered a draw for serious mountaineers. But to a group of Ukrainian refugees who climbed it last August, as part of a summer camp hosted by the U.S.-based , Kitzsteinhorn symbolized hope.

Filmmaker and photographer Max Lowe documented his second trip to Healing Base Camp, a weeklong program for families whose lives were upended by the violence of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. A mix of talk therapy, art classes, and guided mountaineering expeditions, the camp is about building resilience. “All of these people lost someone far too soon,” says Lowe, who is based in Bozeman, Montana. “There’s beauty in the fact that they’re showing up here and learning how to move forward.”

Lowe first visited in the summer of 2022 for his documentary , released on Netflix in 2023. The film follows ten-year-old Milana and her grandmother Olga as they immerse themselves in camp activities. Milana, initially scared to climb, gains confidence throughout the week and eventually summits Kitzsteinhorn. Both she and Olga attended again when Lowe did. “The difference in Milana from the year before was remarkable,” he says. “She pushed through everything and just really seemed like a changed girl.”

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A lot of people got divorced during the COVID-19 years, and a lot of people fell deep into their addictions. Being an overachiever of sorts, I did both.

As the pandemic worked its way through the U.S. in the first six months of 2020, my three adult daughters, one of their boyfriends, my niece, and my son, who was a high school senior, were all living with me and my wife, Lisa, at our home in Camden, Maine. We sewed masks, worked out in the basement, cooked elaborate meals that sometimes took all day, baked better sourdough bread than 95 percent of you, played Scrabble and Boggle, and got into massive arguments during episodes of Jeopardy! As we stayed safely hidden away in mid-coast Maine, it was a never-ending summer-camp-cum-house-party.

Perhaps inspired by this atmosphere, we also drank. Some of us more than others—well, me mostly, and way more. I drank fancy drinks in the evening with my kids, and I also drank alone in the afternoons from a bottle hidden in the garage. The pandemic was the perfect excuse for increasing the everyday drinking I was already doing.

Lisa would occasionally suggest that I take a break, especially after catching me downing a slug of gin or smelling like alcohol in the early afternoon. I, however, wasn’t worried. I didn’t drink in the morning. I was fine. More important, to my way of thinking, I still had a choice about whether to drink or not.

But as the months went by and my own private party continued unabated, that first gulp of the day occurred ever earlier. By June, I was drinking before noon, and even I knew I had to do something. It wasn’t uncontrollable, I told myself. I just needed to stop for a while, and I decided to do it with help from an outdoor adventure. Setting an impossible physical task, getting in shape, and then achieving it—this was how I had operated for decades.

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I’m in my mid-forties, and for the past 15 years, I’ve lived an extremely steady, boring life. I know I sound like a stereotype, but watching my friends get older and experience health problems makes me want to savor the youth I have left. When I think of living like this for the rest of my life, and then dying, I start to freak out. I want to do things. Both of my kids are teenagers, and when I watch them try new things—full of possibilities for how their lives could go—I’m incredibly happy for them. But I wish I could have that same feeling of possibility for myself.

I’ve been daydreaming about quitting my job and hiking the PCT, or learning how to surf (I haven’t decided yet), and then coming back and starting a new career. I’ve mentioned some of my aspirations to my wife, and she’s supportive, but I haven’t talked to her about the full extent of what I want to do: completely shake up my life and take the time to figure out who I really am now. I love my family, and I don’t want to worry them or change anything about them. It’s just me I want to change.

That said, I’ve always been the stable one for my wife and kids to lean on, and I worry that doing something big—like leaving to hike the PCT solo—would cause a lot of stress for them. My own parents weren’t around much growing up, and I always promised myself that I’d never be like them. That said, this feeling is getting stronger and it’s hard for me to ignore it. How do I handle my midlife crisis without being a jerk to the people I love?

Your kids are teenagers. When they try something completely new, is that a crisis? Not at all. It’s self-discovery. Who says that kind of exploration has to end when you hit a certain age? You’re never too old—or young—to reimagine who you want to be in the world.

I think it’s fantastic that you’re filled with the kind of energy that makes you want to do something big. You’re seeing possibilities that you never considered before. A mid-life crisis doesn’t have to be a crisis—in fact, it doesn’t have to be negative at all. With the right framing, and as long as you don’t abandon your responsibilities, it can be an incredible adventure.

Because you do have responsibilities now, ones you didn’t when you were younger, and you know them better than I do. I’m guessing they include financially contributing to your household, being a loyal partner to your wife, and caring for your kids. That last role, in particular, is changing fast. Your kids may not need you to brush their teeth or make their lunches anymore—but they sure as heck need you to love them, see them for who they are, offer comfort, and guide them on their way.

Your stability as a family member, as a parent and partner, ľ±˛ő˛Ô’t dependent on you doing the same thing day after day, year after year, until you die. It’s about your commitment and your loyalty. It’s about listening to your kids and wife, and hearing what they need from you, even if it’s not what you expected. It’s about never giving up on changing for the better.

None of that is contingent on stifling your own dreams. Keep in mind that being part of a stable, loving family doesn’t just mean you’re supporting your wife and kids. It also means they’re supporting you.

Talk to your wife. Tell her what you’re thinking. If you made major life decisions and simply informed her, rather than asking her opinion, you would be a jerk. But if you came to her early, explained the situation to her with humility, and asked for her perspective and advice, that would actually make you a responsible partner. You can talk through options together, consider your finances, and explore what makes sense for the whole family. What concerns does she have? What solutions might address them?

Maybe you can take a break from work, rather than quitting outright, and see if some time away helps you feel refreshed. Maybe you can start with a smaller adventure, like taking a surfing class or planning a week-long hike—and your family could even come along! Or, if travel’s rough, is there a way for you to take on something new and exciting without leaving home? Could you study at night to prepare ahead of time for a career shift? Your wife may have ideas that would never have occurred to you on your own. She might not be as surprised as you think.

Or maybe she’s even been feeling similarly herself, and you’ll be the one who’s surprised.

All this energy you have right now, this stirring to change things? . It doesn’t have to be destructive. Think of it as the energy an athlete has before a game, jumping on the sidelines to warm up, or the energy an artist has before putting a brush to canvas. Now is the time for possibilities, and daydreaming, and making sure your family’s on board. It’s the time for considering their dreams, too, and seeing how everyone’s visions mesh. Then, when you step into your new life, you’ll be doing so together. Or if you do try something new on your own, they’ll be right there cheering on the side.

Blair Braverman writes our Tough Love column. She lives near the Nicolet National Forest in Wisconsin, and her longest hiking trip was the 400-mile Oregon Coast Trail. She has not yet had a midlife crisis.Ěý

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Some of the best family memories are made when you explore together. With tons of outdoor activities, a chance to live the cowboy lifestyle, plus no shortage of homestyle Texas cooking, the ranches of West Texas are the perfect setting for families to share new and engaging experiences. şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř tapped travel mom to test out an adventure-packed, family-friendly itinerary exploring West Texas. Here’s how it went.Ěý

Find Your Texas State of Mind

Live Like a Cowboy

Jump straight into West Texas with a stay at a working ranch. You’ll find a variety of guest ranch experiences across the state, but when it comes to an authentic cowboy experience in the heart of West Texas, is hard to beat. The 30,000-acre ranch keeps active kids entertained for days as families immerse themselves in cowboy life.Ěý Ride horses or hike on the range, then learn how to lasso and get a firsthand look at cattle herding.

“We had never ridden horses before, and this was the real deal,” says Human. “It was so fun to see the kids absolutely giddy over this experience.”

After a day of exploration, gather around the campfire to make s’mores, tell stories, and reminisce about your favorite parts of the day.

Go Behind the Scenes

If your kids’ mental images of the Wild West were shaped byĚý Hollywood,Ěý they’ll be stoked to explore a real-life film set. Step into the enchanting world of western cinema at , the setting for many legendary films. Take an immersive tour to learn about the magic of moviemaking. Then, explore the rest of the property with its endless vistas and variety of engaging activities, including hayrides. “The kids never felt like they were missing out on electronics because they were so in the moment for all of it,” says Human.

Eat Like a Texan

No one does family-style dining quite like Texans. Sit down for a hearty meal at the , conveniently located at Indian Cliffs Ranch to help minimize extraĚý kid wrangling. The steakhouse serves up generous portions of traditional Texas barbecue, with fresh cuts of meat and all-you-can-eat sides. Younger kids can choose from a selection of small plates portioned for cowpokes. “As a parent, I try to make our trips super special for the kids,” says Human. “But authentic experiences like these made it so I didn’t actually have to try that hard. The memory-making moments come so naturally adventuring as a family in West Texas.”

When your crew’s ready for a sweet treat on the road, make a pit stop at , between Cibolo Creek Ranch and Indian Cliffs Ranch.

şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Beyond the Range

Ready to explore more of the region? offers plenty of family-friendly outdoor activities set in the stunning desert landscapes of West Texas. Join a ranger-led hike to explore fascinating geological formations and discover ancient petroglyphs that highlight the area’s rich Native American heritage. The kid-ready trails feature easy terrain and short distances of less than a mile one way.

Families with older kids can up the adrenaline with a guided rock-climbing tour, which can be tailored to your group to include anything from scrambles to world-class bouldering routes. “My kids and I are our best selves when we’re outside,” says Human. “This trip to West Texas was exactly what we love about travel.”

Ěýis responsible for promoting Texas as a premier travel destination in domestic and international markets, generating travel to Texas destinations.

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I once suggested to a new beau that we visit the in Cambridge, Massachusetts, for a long walk and a picnic. He admitted later that the idea had been a little off-putting, but once we arrived, he saw the wisdom of my ways. It was late spring and the bulbs were finishing their bloom, droopy tulips dropping petals in our path. The rhododendrons were bursting with life and the marble statues were as glittering and glorious as ever. It was a stately place to walk, filled with history, art, and evidence of early American culture. Ultimately, he was charmed by this unusual outing. These days, we like to visit burial grounds with our four-year-old daughter, who enjoys reading the faded letters on the headstones and hiding behind the centuries-old oaks.

Pop culture tends to depict people who hang out in cemeteries as belonging to one of two groups: they’re either mourners with fresh grief or teens with thick eyeliner. But the truth is, many American graveyards were designed specifically for public recreation, and it’s a crying shame that we don’t use them more often.

There are many different ways one can respectfully engage with these sites, from the community-based (you can glean historical knowledge from these quietly rich data-centers or plan your visit around finding one famous grave) to the naturalist-leaning (bring binoculars to better spy on migrating birds and keep your plant apps open to help identify rare blooms). Don’t be afraid that your presence will be unwelcome; many cemeteries are building wellness-oriented features into their programming, a surefire indication they want more visitors. And if you’re really gung-ho about hanging out with the dead, there are plenty of volunteer opportunities through the and the National Cemetery Administration, plus you can always check in with your local historic society to see what’s happening nearby.

A Brief History of American Garden Cemeteries

The garden cemetery movement began in 1831 with the opening of Mount Auburn, followed by the building of Laurel Hill in Philadelphia and Green-Wood in New York. It was a time of rapid urbanization and social change, and there was a growing awareness of the fact that humans need security, sanitation, and even beauty to thrive. Some believed that increased time in nature could help cure the poor of their vices. Nice, clean, well-kept cemetery gardens could give people a place to relax (back in the 1800s, people used them for courting, hunting, and even carriage racing) as well as a way to dispose of the many dead.

Graveyard Plants and Animals Are Very Much Alive

Like many of the most successful human-made landscapes, graveyards are also hospitable to local wildlife. There are several beloved by birders, including Utah’s Salt Lake City Cemetery, where you can see nesting owls and migrating flycatchers and warblers, and the Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery in San Diego, California, where binocular-toting tourists go to spy rare warblers and sparrows.ĚýPersonally, I’ve spent hours stalking around Portland, Maine’s Evergreen Cemetery waiting to catch a glimpse of the mated pair of river otters thatĚýfrolic in the ponds. Red foxes are a common sight at the Laurel Hill Cemetery in Philadelphia—in 2016, one particularly personable vixen was even deemed the official mascot of the graveyard. River, as she was named, has probably passed by now, but she was able to thrive in the 200-acre green space, probably because cemetery officials chose to prioritize green burial practices and eco-friendly gardening techniques. In 2018, Nature’s Sanctuary (West Laurel Hill’s green burial ground) became the first cemetery to be granted SITES Gold Certification, a designation given to sustainable landscapes, and is now being used as a case study for the U.S. Green Building Council.

While West Laurel Hill has made an active effort to protect the planet, others have stumbled into this role. The Polk City Cemetery in Polk City, Iowa, was constructed in the early 19^th century on land that was unsuitable for farming and, as a result, has been discovered to contain untouched pockets of native tallgrass prairie. Volunteers have been working to improve the biodiversity of the Midwest by responsibly managing these spots and cataloging the various plants, including the lovely and rare wild pansies that dot the lawns. In Brooklyn’s famous Green-Wood cemetery, you can see evidence of the forests that once thickly covered that part of New York, including native oak, hickory, American beech, tulip, and sweetgum trees. Like many modern cemeteries, Green-Wood Cemetery now has a social media presence, where they announce upcoming events programming and highlight interesting findings. Although it might feel funny at first to start following graveyards on Instagram, there’s nothing quite like it for up-to-date information about on-the-go animals and rare plants. Many cemeteries also have maps and guides available in the office—some even provide PDFs for download on their websites.Ěý

Local History Is Alive, Too

All graveyards, thoughtfully designed or haphazardly made, function as data centers. Tombstones can tell us about family ties, community values, and forgotten tragedies. Even casual visitors to a graveyard can take note of the names and dates that crop up time and again. While some kids won’t find this alone particularly scintillating, there’s plenty of eye-spy games Ěýthat can help liven up what might otherwise be a boring walk.

Some cemeteries draw crowds for their more famous residents, like the Hollywood Forever Cemetery in California—where stars like Judy Garland and Marilyn Monroe have been laid to rest—and the Trinity Church Cemetery in New York, where you’ll find markers for Alexander Hamilton and John James Audubon. A little further north in the Hudson Valley, you’ll find the Old Dutch Church and the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, both of which were made famous by the writing of Washington Irving. In addition to casting these bucolic plots of land as settings in his spooky stories, Irving also wrote in favor of creating more striking cemeteries and public ground. In both his personal home and his public statements, he promoted a distinctly American style of gardening and landscape design, one that was a bit wilder and looser than the formal gardens were among European aristocracy. (It was at Irving’s recommendation that Fredrick Law Olmstead eventually was appointed the head designer for New York City’s Central Park.) In recent decades, Sleepy Hollow has taken a rather kitschy turn, similar to the Halloween fever that surrounds Salem Massachusetts and its famous Old Burying Point Cemetery, but there’s still a lot of rustic charm to be found on the forested trails and narrow bridges of Tarrytown.

Cemeteries Can Be Secret Hotspots for Urban Trails

Though using graveyards for recreation ľ±˛ő˛Ô’t as common as it once was, the concept of multi-use spaces is clearly alive and well. In addition to making graveyards greener for the sake of insects and animals, there’s also been a push to implement more wellness-oriented features in cemeteries. The Evergreen Cemetery in Los Angeles has that was updated with a fresh, bouncy layer of rubber in 2023. In New Orleans, the organization Save Our Cemeteries hosts an annual race through the Metairie Cemetery to raise money for conservation of the historic grounds and its famous tombs. The Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta has a similar event, plus events for kids (including a day camp that takes place during the summer months). Although it’s not nearly as storied as either of those southern graveyards, whenever I visit my mother in Massachusetts, I like to go jogging at the Mount Hope Cemetery in West Acton. The trails extend out behind the graveyard and wind through serene wetlands, full of blue herons and red-winged blackbirds. Admittedly, I stop fairly often to pull up my birding app and catalog new lifers, but for slow runners like me, breaks are an important part of the routine.

There are some cemeteries that prohibit running, and there are plenty of religious burial grounds that don’t welcome visitors. While I have attended my fair share of funerals for loved ones and never once noticed or begrudged runners or birders, it’s important to recognize that not all mourners will feel this way. Sacred places are open for adventure, but like hiking in ruins or camping in preserved land, you’re duty-bound to pay attention. One of the first things I taught my child about cemeteries was that tombstones aren’t for climbing. A toddler can topple a headstone, and even if the person below is long-dead, restoration is a costly process. Similarly, I wouldn’t remove anything from a recent grave, not even a pebble. (In Jewish cemeteries, it’s customary to leave small rocks as a tribute to the deceased.) Different traditions and locations have their own rules, but fortunately most larger cemeteries also have offices, maps, and sometimes even visitor centers. For those nervous about disturbing the peace, start with the simplest form of outdoor exploration: a quiet walk to observe and consider.

The post Cemeteries Are Underrated Parks You Can Respectfully Enjoy appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

Welcome to Tough Love. We’re answering your questions about dating, breakups, and everything in between. Our advice giver is Blair Braverman, dogsled racer and author of and . Have a question of your own? Write to us at toughlove@outsideinc.com.

After my dad died, I heard “Southern Cross” by Crosby, Stills, and Nash on the radio, which is about making a big sailing trip after a divorce. And I thought, that’s what I should do! I feel like in times of grief, it’s natural to want a big project. And so I bought books about young and inexperienced sailors making solo trips around the world.

I thought I should sail from Portland, Oregon, where I live, to New Zealand, where my dad’s from. It would be a journey to try to understand someone who’s not around for me to try to understand anymore.

When I told my friend about my idea, she said, “I really support you, but I think you’re going to die if you do that. Please don’t die alone on the ocean on a boat.” She may have had a point—I haven’t sailed since I took a sailing class in sixth grade, and I didn’t like it.

Now it’s been two years. The trip remains an idea and I still have all those books, but I’m more focused on other parts of my life, like my work and my garden. When I drive over bridges in Portland and see ships on the river, I wish I could be on one of them. Because it’s easier to think about taking a grand journey than it is to take a sailing class. How do I honor the impulse to do something big even though, when it comes down to it, I don’t actually want to do it?

It took me a long time to get pregnant, and when I finally did, it didn’t stick. I told myself: this loss is okay, because I’ll get pregnant right away after this, right? I have to. That’s how stories work. Things get hard, and they get harder—but then there’s a crack of hope, just when the protagonist needs it most.

But it didn’t happen. The journey to parenthood felt random and unfair, with brave hopes that didn’t pan out and sorrows with no resolution. With each setback, I thought: this must be the moment that things turn around.ĚýNow, I thought. Now comes the happy ending.

But it didn’t come yet.

Wait—that means it must be coming now.

Nope.

I tried stuff. Is this a story about wilderness? OK: I’ll go alone to the woods, plunge into a river, come back cleansed and ready to bring life into the world.

Nope.

Is this a story about God? I’ll pray.

Is this a story about art? I’ll throw myself into work. I’ll write another book.

But none of those stories played out. At least, not in the ways that I planned them. And that made me feel more helpless than ever.

Eventually, I did have a happy ending, or at least a happy middle. But there was no clear, straightforward story I could tell myself that explained the difficulties along the way. By the time the good news came, I was so weary of hope that I didn’t let myself trust it for a long time.

The process showed me how much I’ve leaned on storytelling in my own life, and how much that instinct can backfire. Stories are, after all, threads of meaning in a chaotic world—and if finding them gives us comfort and control, losing them does the opposite.

I tell you this because you sound like a storyteller, too. And it sounds like you’re looking for a story to tell yourself about grief. A story in which you cross the wild sea and come out the other side healed.

There’s an easy answer here, which is that you should take a sailing class, or buy a ticket for a boat ride, or rent a kayak for the day. It might be fun. You might hate it, which is OK, too. That said, I don’t think the sailing class will fix you, because I don’t think you’re actually looking for a trip across the sea. I think you’re looking for a story with an ending that finds you far from where you started.

I’m hesitant, now, to use stories to predict what’s next in my life, but there’s incredible power in identifying them in retrospect. And I think that by writing your letter, you’re already a good chunk of the way there. You’re figuring out your story, even though you’re still home in Portland. You’re moving forward with it every day. So what’s the story that feels true to you, now? What’s the story that helps you live with your grief?

I’ll try writing one for you. If it feels wrong, change it. If it feels right, take it. Use it to launch your ship.

After my dad died, I became obsessed with sailing.
I dreamed of sailing to New Zealand, where he was born.
I wanted answers in the sea.
I looked at the water every time I crossed a bridge.
But instead, I found myself planting vegetables.
Seed by seed.
In my mind, I sailed. I caught the wind.
It rained.
The seeds sprouted.
I think, in a way, I’m already on the journey.
Not to find home, but to make it.
Not to seek answers, but to grow them.

The post Why an Outdoor şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř May Not Be the Best Way to Grieve appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

Let’s be clear: The toys do not make the summer. It’s the intention we as parents put into spending longer days outside with the kids once the school year ends that can make the season feel special. We can say, though, that the toys do make summer easier.

Gear that’s designed specifically for kids and thoughtfully built with smart performance details can make or break your littles’ first camping trip or hike, and make picking up a new sport a lot more fun. We vetted kid-specific bikes, clothing, surfboards, and adjacent gear to bring you the best bet to maximize summer fun.

At a Glance

• How We Test
• Meet the Lead Testers

All gear in this guide was tested by multiple reviewers. When you buy through our links, we may earn an affiliate commission. This supports our mission to get more people active and outside. Learn more.

Isle Nugget Surfboard

Sizes: 5’4”

Pros and Cons
⊕ Durable
⊕ Works for kids and adults
⊗ Removable fins are hard to get in/out

It is rare that a product fulfills the needs of both an advanced and beginner in a sport, but the Nugget managed that feat. With a soft exterior coupled with a rigid interior, this versatile board catered to all skill levels and kids from 40 pounds to adults of 180 pounds.

We taught two kids under 6 how to surf on this 5’4” quad fin soft top board last summer. It’s an ideal longboard for littles to learn on and also proved to be a fun shortboard for adults. The Nugget’s top features a 1.3 millimeter Polycarbonate “skin” that gripped little feet without sticky wax and was burly enough that it showed little wear and tear after living under a big Douglas Fir for most of the summer. Adults were able to pump it down the line on heavy shore break thanks to the rigidity from two Fiberglass stringers molded into the EPS core.

Prevelo Zulu 4 Mountain Bike

Sizes: Zulu series has bikes ranging from 20-inch wheels (Zulu 1) to 26-inch wheels (Zulu 5)
Weight: 22 lbs

Pros and Cons
⊕ Nimble
⊕ Great transition bike for kids getting off-road for the first time
⊗ Big investment for a bike a kid will grow out of

This fully-featured mountain bike has all of the pieces to make the intimidating (for kids and parents) transition from kiddo cyclist to kiddo mountain biker. The large 24-inch tires and front fork with 100 millimeters of travel proved key in teaching one eight year old how to trust a mountain bike’s ability to absorb rugged terrain.

While the Zulu 4 was beefy enough to eat up baseball sized rocks, it still proved manageable enough for a sub 100-pound rider thanks to the aluminum frame’s low and narrow geometry.

Shredly Littles Shorts

Sizes: XS – XL

Pros and Cons
⊕ Fast drying time
⊕ Versatile
⊗ Light colorways show dirt

Multi-sport days can be a key element of the alchemy of summer, but changing your kids’ outfits between those sports can be a pain and ruin the momentum of a fun day. The secret to success is a versatile piece like Shredly’s Littles Shorts.

These quick-drying shorts made from recycled polyester spandex became a go-to for all summer activities, from pool sessions, to long days at the beach, to mountain biking. The high elasticity in the waist and slightly baggy cut allowed our kid testers to move freely, earning a thumbs up from one five-year-old who wore the Littles during a pump track session and then right to gymnastics class.

CamelBak Kids Mini MULE Hydration Pack with Crux 1.5L Reservoir

Pros and Cons
⊕ Smartly built for kid-specific carry
⊕ Highly adjustable to grow with the kiddos
⊗ Reservoir can be tough for kids to fill

Getting a kiddo of any age to stay hydrated during summer adventures is as important as it can be challenging. This recycled 200-denier polyester reservoir pack proved low profile enough that even sub 35-pound testers didn’t complain about lugging it around for multi-hour bike rides.

The sternum strap and stretchy body materials were adjustable enough that testers from 32-pounds to 90-pounds were able to dial in a comfortable fit. The Mini MULE’s main compartment holds a 1.5 liter bladder, which is plenty to hydrate kiddos for three to four hour adventures, and two exterior pockets hold a sun hat, snacks, and extras like a pocket notebook and colored pencil case.

The Mini MULE’s mesh arm straps, harness, and cushy, porous back panel proved highly breathable and produced no complaints from a five year old tester during a nearly hour long ride in 95-degrees.

Helly Hansen JR Marka Fleece Jacket

Sizes: 8-16

Pros and Cons
⊕ Wide temperature range
⊕ Highly breathable
⊗ Light pilling after a few months of heavy use

This fleece made from two-way stretch, 100-percent recycled polyester covers a wide temperature range, making it a great emergency layer to keep in the back of your car for just-in-case moments.

It was a nice little comfort bump for five year old Jojo on nights that dipped into the mid-fifties and even proved enough over pajamas on a 42-degree early morning bike ride. Credit the medium-high loft coupled with the porousness of the fleece’s exterior. Other smart design features testers loved: a supple chin guard to protect wee faces from the zipper, as well as a raglan sleeve and hyper-stretchy elastic cuffs and waist for freedom of movement.

Cotopaxi Kids Teca Half Zip Windbreaker

Sizes: XS-XL

Pros and Cons
⊕ Highly packable
⊕ Kangaroo pocket for storage
⊗ Some testers became obsessed with constantly opening/closing the velcro kangaroo pouch

A solid kids windbreaker can be a lifesaver in a freak summer rainstorm but ľ±˛ő˛Ô’t worth lugging around if it’s bulky. Enter the Kids Teca Half Zip, a lightweight windbreaker that has everything an ambitious child adventurer needs—a face-hugging hood and a kangaroo pouch to stash snacks—in a package that weighs only 1.2 pounds and squishes down to the size of a tangerine.

It’s not waterproof, but it kept one kiddo mostly protected from the elements when a sudden thunderstorm hit on a hike (the kid tester got back to the trailhead a bit wet, though she stayed warm).

Hoka Speedgoat 5 Kids Trail Running Shoe

Sizes: 3.5 Y – 7 Y

Pros and Cons
⊕ Excellent breathability
⊕ Sturdy support
⊕ Fantastic traction
⊗ Expensive for a shoe your kid will grow out of

Kids hiking and running shoes have a track record of being underbuilt—not the case with the Speedgoat 5 Kids. Jakob Schiller’s kids appreciated the burliness of this shoe’s durable rubber outsole and lugs while scrambling up myriad class three routes on hikes in New Mexico.

The woven mesh upper with 21 percent recycled polyester breathed well enough that the kiddos’ feet didn’t get too hot during nearly triple digit hikes, and the 30-percent sugarcane midsole hugged young soles with that lovely cushion that caused parent testers to fall in love with Hoka.

Patagonia Baby Capilene Silkweight Hoodie

Sizes: 3-6 months – 5T

Pros and Cons
⊕ Excellent fit
⊕ Well-designed hood
⊗ Holds onto stink if not washed regularly

Keeping an infant shaded from the summer sun is no small feat, especially when you’re hiking or playing in the water. This UPF 40+ hoodie’s extra long drop tail hem, oversized sleeves, and three panel hood did the trick. The four-way stretch fabric (94-percent polyester 6-percent spandex jersey) was both pliable and supple enough next to skin that an 18-month-old tester wasn’t bothered by the hood—and actually kept it on—for a four-hour excursion to Ashland, OR’s swimming reservoir.

Opinel No. 07 My First Opinel Folding Knife

Pros and Cons
⊕ Kids-specific safety features
⊗ Tough to clean

Camping trips and outdoor adventures are a great time to give your kiddo a little more agency over their day to day as well as take on new risks—like getting their first knife. Opinel’s My First Folding Knife proved sharp enough along the front blade to actually cut everything from kindling to cheese, was great for whittling, yet dull enough at the tip that it was safe for the littles to use after a little conversation around knife safety.

Our tester’s sample lived in Jojo’s pack all summer and she spent more time showing friends its safety features (like a rotating locking mechanism at the top of the handle) than actually cutting or whittling. Though it hasn’t seen extensive use yet, her parents agreed it was still a great investment.

Backpacker’s Pantry Three Cheese Mac and Cheese

Pros and Cons
⊕ Easy way to pack in calories
⊕ Long shelf life
⊗ More expensive than grocery store Mac and Cheese

Childrens’ blood sugar can define a trip. Having quick and easy Mac and Cheese on hand felt like a super power on camping trips. Even our pickiest three-year-old testers did not turn up little noses to this tender elbow pasta and parmesan, romano, and cheddar treat.

The 510-calories per pouch packed enough of a punch that it could feed three young kids, and its 10-year shelf life meant that parents didn’t have to think twice about pulling it out of a camp box and whipping it up as hunger fueled meltdowns reached a fever pitch. Preparation requires just one cup of water and takes a total of 15 minutes. A note on allergens: it does contain eggs, milk, and wheat.

How We Test

• Number of products tested: 47
• Number of kiddo testers: 10
• Number of parent moderators: 5
• Age range of testers: 18-months to 9-years-old
• Temperature range: Low 40s to 106-degrees

We camped a lot to test kids’ gear and determine how each performed out in the elements last summer. Our cadre of ten child testers put in over 75 combined days camping in spots from the Northern Californian coast, to the rivers and woods of Oregon, to Penasco, New Mexico. We brought all the gear and notebooks, set the kids loose, then listened to what the wee ones had to say.

We depended on parents to coordinate the testing, but relied on the kids for performance feedback. We’ve found that paying close attention to the children’s opinions about their gear while adventuring in the elements yields the best testers’ notes. Unlike most adults, kids are readily willing to display their displeasure and do not have any brand loyalty or biases.

Meet the Lead Testers

Category manager Joe Jackson has been testing gear professionally for şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř for over a decade. He was the managing editor for gear guides past and was °żłÜłŮ˛őľ±»ĺ±đ’s longest running Gear Guy columnist.

Jackson’s daughter Jojo, Josie, or “The Joj,” has been testing gear for this publication since the day she left the hospital after she was born. She just turned six and can explain the performance differences between cotton and a synthetic next-to-skin layer to an adult in a meaningful way.

Jakob Schiller has been testing outdoor products professionally for as long as Jackson and was his boss at şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř for two years where they bickered like brothers about gear. He is raising four children that come with him on most of his wild southwest-based adventures.

The post The Best Kids’ Gear for Summer şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍřs appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.