Cherished memories of wonderful summer days in my early childhood all revolve around plenty of leisure time and freedom to play. Play involved imagining and creating for hours on end, often winding the same thread of thought through days, weeks, and even months.

Our sandbox grew into a full-fledged ranch in my mind, with the swingset’s glider filling both the role of trusty steed as well as soaring airplane. An empty boat trailer in our backyard filled in for whatever pieces of furniture or equipment was needed, including a dentist’s chair and gymnasts bar.

Long winter days provided time to develop a mansion on a card table for Barbies, complete with hairspray can lids atop prickly hair curlers for lamps, and washcloths atop boxes for beds.

Paper dolls made out of actual paper, traced and re-traced from those offered in a children’s magazine, sometimes had paper homes. They could even live in another card-table mansion; they, along with their original-designs/colored-penciled wardrobes.

A conscious feeling of security from my mother in the background, happy and supportive of my imagination, along with the daily routine of my father coming and going in his dedicated way to provide for us, contributed immensely to that freedom to play.

Much wasn’t needed in the way of outside help for entertainment, though I was drawn to be outside much of the time. Blue skies, big trees and the sight of nearby rugged mountain tops all gave expanse to simple ideas, providing abundant fuel for stories to be experienced in “pretend”.

As I recall, it generally didn’t matter whether friends and siblings were available or not as companions, though they did grow more important as years went by. Play felt very satisfying. I recognize the same feelings now, many years later, when finished working on projects that matter to me, such as cleaning our home, baking bread, or providing customer service on the phone. Those feelings are foundational to what I consider a rich and happy life.

Eventually reading replaced my cherished playtime. Authors could take my imaginings much further, and certainly more realistically. The neighborhood bookmobile came on Saturdays. What a delight to walk the block over to our grocery store parking lot and back, having found a new Mary Stewart mystery. If there were series I somehow heard were good, the challenge was to find those books available and not all checked out.

Back at home, I’d head outside into the shade of a tree, or maybe onto a towel on the hot cement trying to catch some rays for a tan, and read. Sometimes I’d plop this way and that on a couch or bed, leaning on elbows forever chapped from propping up and holding the book.

Parenting guru, Dr. Michele Baruga, touts 12 great benefits of childhood play. She laments: Good old-fashioned play is quickly becoming an endangered pastime for today’s plugged-in, over-scheduled kids. Dozens of studies prove that play is not just a luxury but essential to our children’s healthy development.

I agree with her. And beyond that, I sense that play and reading are connected. Both require a similar type of leisure opportunity for healthy development in childhood that seems to be slipping away. The discovery and exploration of literature, beginning even before opening simple picture books, develops in much the same way as imagination and creativity in play. An ever-quickening lifestyle doesn’t promote time for musing and mulling-over; rather it demands skimming-over.  Do we need reminders that not all problem-solving involves quick-fixes and that inventions and solutions take much more than luck?

Summer will be here before we know it. What are your plans for leisure activities in your family? Need ideas for helping your child become a successful reader? Here’s an e-book from Reading Horizons: How to Help Your Child Become  a Successful Reader.