Page 58 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

I’ve been so impressed with all the presenters so far, but when the speaker steps up to the podium at lunch, I gasp.

Josh looks over at me. “Something wrong?”

I shake my head. “It’s her. The Dubliner we gave the room to.”

According to the man who introduces her, Frances O’Leary is a world-renowned expert on play. When she steps away from the podium to stroll across the stage, I know that what we’re going to get from her is a TED talk, only better. Because of her charming accent, of course.

She talks for a bit about her early research on human development and play, as well as her most recent work on its health benefits for all ages. But then she turns the tables on us.

“Why? Are? You? Here?” she asks, emphasizing each word equally. In her lovely accent.

Josh snorts, and my cheeks heat when I catch his eye. “Besides nookie,” I whisper.

“Why do you work in this field?” Frances O’Leary continues. “Or if you’re here from the corporate side, what do you gain from contributing to this work? I know it’s not money, believe me.”

She nods offstage, and a large whiteboard gets rolled out. “We’re going to find out.”

They’re really into brainstorming at this place, but this is next level from what we did last night. When Frances gets people shouting out a few words, they appear on the board like magic. Then she tells us to get out our phones, and she gives us a number to which we’ll send a text.

“Why are you here?” she repeats. “What is the value of a public place where people can enjoy parks and recreation?”

She gives us a few moments to think, sweeping the room with one of those gazes that makes you feel like she’s talking to you, and I swear the entire room holds its breath. “When I saygo, I want every one of you to type in and send the first ten words that come to mind in response to that question. Aaand, go!”

I dutifully type in my words, doing my best not to edit them. When I look up, the whiteboard is pulsing with words. Some of which were on my list, some of which weren’t. When it seems like the board might overflow with them, the words begin to swirl, and after a few seconds, a word cloud appears.

The ones I fall in love with are:

Community

Fun

Inspiration

Connection

Re-creation

“You’ll all get a printout of this before you leave, and I recommend putting it by your computer or somewhere you’ll see it every day. So you’ll have a memory of what’s behind your hard work. And this afternoon.”

Her tone is almost mischievous when she gets to the last sentence, and then she gives us a wave and shouts, “Have fun!” before handing the mic off to a staff member.

“If you didn’t dress to play,” the man says, “I highly recommend doing so now. You’re likely to get dirty, and you need to be able to move all your limbs easily. But before anyone leaves, please reach under your chair and retrieve the sticky note placed there. That’s your team color. No trading now,” he warns with a smile. “Please gather by the flag in your team color on the playing fields in fifteen minutes.”

Josh holds up his sticky note. “I guess we’re not on the same team.”

“Classic move,” I say as we join the lines snaking out of the building. “Separate people sitting together to break up the cliques.”

“How are we playing this?” he asks, gesturing for me to precede him through the door.

“I don’t know about you, but I play to win.”

He grins. “Good to know.”

Once out on the playing field, however, I’m wishing I hadn’t thrown that gauntlet.

“Maybe the challenges will be more intellectual?” one of my team members suggests. She’s a librarian and looks the part, in sensible shoes and a cardigan. At least she’s wearing a skort instead of a tweed skirt.

“Doubt it.” The art teacher in our group is tall but not muscular. They frown as they point toward the center of the field, revealing a beautiful sleeve of tattoos. “First contest looks like it’s tug-of-war.”

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