Down ‘n Dirty…

Johnny-on-the-Spot … by John Foster …

Researchers now say playing in the mud and dirt could help youngsters build their immune systems.

Data on the connection between “dirt play” and the probability of getting allergies and autoimmune disease found that mud and dirt exposes children to microorganisms which helps with “immune training”.

Researchers say exposure to an array of microbes teaches the child’s immune system to differentiate destructive microbes versus mild ones.

Children not exposed to “immune training” could have over-sensitive immune systems which can lead to allergies or risk of viral sicknesses.

“Dirt play” also helps brain development because it is a “sensory play” that triggers multiple senses such as touch and smell.

Our daughters played in sandboxes/sand tires (ask our older daughter Nikki about “dirty Lori”).

In the fall, they would rake leaves into walls of houses and make rooms and they would play “house” outdoors with their dolls and stuffed animals.

We also tent camped a lot and they would play for hours on Lake Erie beaches, just far enough away from the dead carp that had washed ashore.

When I was a youngster, I didn’t even have a sandbox.

There was an area of dirt at the end of our backyard and that’s where I spent hours with my Tonka trucks and tractors, making roads and hauling rocky soil to make-believe dump sites.

Remember getting “dirt rings” in your elbow pits and around your neck?

We’d come into the house for dinner and washing up was more than just soaping and rinsing your hands.

You’d have to wash away those dirt rings on your arms and around your neck, too.

The more dirt rings you had indicated how hard you played and and how dusty it was.

I was exposed to dirt.

All my blue jean knees had grass stains on them and when they got worn through, there’d be one of those iron-on patches that was applied to extend the wear life.

Like kids today, we played baseball but it wasn’t this organized, uniformed game we see today.

We had an empty lot, I think on Mayfair Drive that was our “ball diamond”.

We’d chop down the weeds and thistles with scythes and sickles and sometimes do some minimal leveling with a rake.

Normally, shingles or pieces of 2X4’s from nearby house construction sites served as bases and we would play on this dustbin without the benefit of umpires and coaches.

Hot infield grounders were always adventurous due to the rocks in the infield.

In addition to coming home dirty and dusty, there were usually a few bumps and bruises do to sliding on what was actually just dusty concrete.

Or a grounder in the infield that changed it’s path quickly due to Mother Natures’ debris.

Now I actually played a little organized baseball on some haphazardly-maintained ball diamonds on elementary school grounds.

I pitched or played first base for “Gene’s Crew Cuts”.

A basic white t-shirt with the team name in pine green across the chest.

There were no pants with stirrups or baseball cleats and I’m not even sure if we had ball-caps.

“Aluminum bats?” you ask.

Nope.

Just wooden ones with bandage tape we’d wrap around the handle to improve our grip.

Those same bats became our rifles when we headed to “the woods” to play Army after a tough ballgame.

Or have “dirt clod” fights.

And we were always dirty.

And dusty.

And I’m sure I ingested a fair share of “Mother Earth” over the years.

I may have even tasted a bit of that material in my backyard dirt area.

Kids are curious about things like that, you know.

Our immune systems were further bolstered by the fact that we drank water from green, plastic hoses everyone had in their backyards.

You’d have to let the water run for awhile because it would be scorching hot from laying in the sun all day.

Even then you could still sample that that awful plastic taste.

In the fall and winter, it was football, sometimes in the yard between the Berry’s and the Geary’s on Keller Drive or further south in the Dille’s yard.

The muddier, the better, too.

I always thought Ray Cervinski constantly licked his hands to help his grip on the pigskin.

Cold sweat, spit-coated hands and mud probably “immune-trained” our microbes about as well as could be expected.

We didn’t haver thermal cups for our halftime drinks.

If we were lucky, and playing near the Berry’s, they had a water fountain from one of those catalogs everyone got.

It connected to the spigot and you could get a refreshing sip that didn’t have the delicious plastic taste of our warm weather drinks.

We also played football in the snow which was fun until you got tackled and fell on the frozen earth.

Could have been like play on one of the driveways.

So the smart folks today say the kids need a little dirt to be healthier.

I thin they’d be better off with a little time away from things electric and maybe get a little dirt under the fingernails.

That way, if you chew those nails, you might nurse those good microorganisms along.