The Happiest Place On Earth

So I loaded up my household clan and jumped over to California for some Disneyland and to celebrate the naming and birth of a new little nephew, Baby C. Our trip was just under three days, not including a couple of evenings traveling.

My mind was open to the experience of the Mickey Mouse amusement park and its claim of being, “the Happiest Place On Earth.” (See my previous post.) I couldn’t buy the claim as more than a great advertising slogan and yet I know a great number of people who are infatuated with the place and wouldn’t dream of vacationing anywhere else.

I also received excellent comments from three friends on the blog who leant a little perspective to what might be the happiest of places. An elementary school friend, Jason, has some poignant hardships that provide him a clearer lens through which to view the world than most of us. The scales of the cares of the mundane day-to-day have been lifted and he sees with the sharpest of focus, as if he can peer into the realm of the spirit, the realm of the genuine soul from which most of us are obscured. Read his story on his own blog, but prepare to have your own focus altered. His story is mind altering.

Without the transcendent vision of Jason, this is what I observed at Disneyland:

Not only is Disney carefully prepared to maximize the money that seeps out of your wallet and into its hands, there is an empire of peripheral business that cater to the hoards that descend each day to the theme park. Tens of thousands, perhaps more, make a living because of the reality of this park

According to numbers I found on a website, when the park opened, Anaheim grew from five hotels and two motels with a total of 87 rooms to 150 establishments and 18,000 rooms today.

We were unfortunate enough to choose one of the busiest days of the year at the park, especially of the days when school is in full session. As (bad) luck would have it, the national cheerleading championships were in Los Angeles so joining us on our plane, and on our vacation, were scads of 15-18 year old girls. (The one next to me on our 737 smelled of bacon cheeseburgers and evangelized the film “Twilight.”) This multitude made lines longer, made the park louder and allowed us fewer rides and activities at the park.

But, as whiney as I sound, these were extremely minor issues. As cynical and critical as I was prepared to be, the theme park was and is great fun. I wouldn’t bother going without my kids but we had a grand time and I discovered the reasons why. It turns out the park is canvas for play while my children provided all the color.

I will recall as long as I am taking breath, the simple sweetness of holding the hands of my sons, each in his own turn.

Logan, weeks only away from marking his fifth year, actually enjoys the contact with his father, hand-to-hand. It was a practical necessity because of the crowds, the size of our group (which included seven extended family members) and the need to move together from place to place. The memory of this sweet little boy’s tiny hand clutching mine is flavored by his reaction when all four of my fingers weren’t closed over his. He consciously made the effort with his other hand to reach up and reclose my hand on his. He demanded that all my digits hold all of his soft, gentle hand, not because it was more secure but because he liked it and it felt right to him. This tiny action was endearing and unforgettable to me. I laughed when he did it and we made a game out of it at the time but I knew even then that this was a special moment, one I will recall when he likely grows temporarily imbecilic as a teen.

Dresden was perfectly content to engage in hand holding (more often with is mother) as well because -- and this is the great magic of the park -- we were focused on having fun. A little like friend Jason, the cares of the world were off our shoulders and we were in an 80-acre realm where we were intent on enjoying ourselves as we left behind our cares. The most obvious white trash and the wealthiest patron of the park shared the same experience of just trying to have a good time.

Dresden’s moment for me came while we were riding the train that circles the park with four stops and serves as a quick way to get form place-to-place and offers minor amusements in between stops. He was still energized even though evening was falling and he and I sat together and apart from the rest of our party. At each of the stops the teen-aged conductor speaks to the new passengers and reminds the holdovers of a few simple rules such as not standing up, not taking flash photos and explaining where the next stop would be.

She was mostly impossible to understand because of the sound system and because she had made a similar announcement the 42 previous times the train had stopped. I remarked to Dresden that it sounded like she was eating pudding as she talked. My boy sweetly found this hilarious and made his silly talking-and-pudding-eating motion while giggling and saying, “arg arg arg blah blah arg blah,” and then breaking into hysterics. He did this over and over, entertaining himself every last time.

He has always loved the sounds of words and been amused by those he makes up since he could first make sounds and there on the train I got the full, pure joy of Dresden at almost-seven; a perfect moment at Disneyland.

So in case that wasn’t clear, Disneyland is magical because we go there for the pursuit of fun. We go there to go faster and higher and get artificial scares and thrills and to participate in the illusions offered us. But I don’t think it’s the attractions that make all the difference (although they are smartly designed) but the way we participate in them. We go there to have fun. Sure, kids love seeing scary and yet safe pirates (oh so different from the reality of plunder and murder and boat-living) but I believe too that a good deal of the experience is that parents pursue the fun with them.

How often do I truly engage in the pursuit of fun with my child for an entire day? How often do I allow them to direct where we go and what we do? How often do parents spend eight or nine or ten solid hours laughing or playing with small breaks for cold drinks and cotton candy? I think my children, all children, deserve parents that on occasion make time to pursue fun. I get so busy scolding or “teaching” or following up with my children that I forget how well they respond to fun and love.

Disneyland is a license to focus on fun but I am going to give myself permission to plan and execute more fun days at home. We will vacation elsewhere. We will find other carefree play days close and far. When my sons are older and can put the world in better context, we will explore more of it together. I will be, I am, dedicated to having fun with Shannon and Dresden and Logan. Wherever we do that will be the happiest place on earth.