Lessons from childhood

Years later, I came to realize that my own experience as a child had been touched very deeply by certain objects that were part of my natural surroundings — objects that stimulated my senses and mind in a lasting way. As a little boy I embraced their presence, and allowed them to usher me into an intimate world of imagination, curiosity, reverie, wonder, and awe. They afforded me a sense of solitude, quietude, and comfort; they served as speechless hosts for my childhood communion.

During my early teens, my older brother, Shafeek, gave me a book by James Harvey Robinson, the noted social and intellectual historian. Much of the book was beyond my years, but one thing in this slim volume remained with me — Robinson’s emphasis on the importance of reverie in daily life. As I entered adulthood, I found that reverie became harder and harder to achieve in any given day, in our society of instant communication, fast food, fast commuting, and ever faster ways for everything.

By the early 1970s, we were well on our way to the total immersion experience of the television age, in which most children watched thirty to forty hours of TV a week. They read less and their vocabulary decreased. The decades that followed saw the arrival of twenty-four-hour cable television, VCRs, home computer games, and the Internet — each in turn cementing the place of the TV screen in our children’s lives. In those years I remember reading about the Fresh Air Fund, a program that offers New York ­City’s poor children a chance to spend a few summer weeks in the countryside. For many of these children it was the first time that they had ever walked on soil, on earth! It was the first time they smelled fresh cut grass and hay. For some, it was the first time ­they’d seen an authentic sunset, not just the televised variety. Today, children everywhere are deprived of exposure to nature in the same way; they grow up with their eyes, ears, tastes, and other senses trained on a corporate world of sensual virtual reality — removed, as no other generation in human history, from the daily flow and rhythm of nature.

How very different were my early years, lived so close to ­nature’s bounty. When I reflect back on the importance of my family and my childhood, I find that my mind often floods with imagery from these natural surroundings that stirred my imagination in those years. What became a little world to me, as an adult, was a very large world to me as a child. Nature has its own power, drawing us into its magical ambience. And I remember it vividly:

First, there were sounds . . .

Excerpted from “The Seventeen Traditions,” by Ralph Nader. Copyright © 2007 Ralph Nader. Excerpted by permission of HarperCollins. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

MORE FROM TODAY BOOKS: BIOGRAPHY/MEMOIRS

Andre Agassi: I have the body of an old man

Andre Agassi: I have the body of an old man Former Miss California: I was smeared How dog poop led to love for Paula Deen After having 15 abortions, motherhood saved her Book excerpt: Testimony of an abortion addict Alan Thicke on raising kids who won’t hate you ‘Full House’ star writes about meth, coke binges Parents share diary of child’s cancer battle How America can get 'Smart on Crime' Hulk Hogan: Why I almost killed myself   Add Today Books: Biography/Memoirs headlines to your news reader: