Ryan Trares: Jumping to conclusions

With every leap, I held my breath and fought the urge to reach out.

It was fall break for Anthony last week, so we had planned a mini-trip to one of our family’s favorite places — Grand Haven, Michigan.

We first came to this little town on the shores of Lake Michigan six years ago. I had picked it out of a virtual hat — I went online, found a beach town, and secured a house to rent. We fell in love with its walkability, its quaint shops and restaurants, and, who are we kidding, its brewery scene. We’ve come back every year since; my wife and I even celebrated our 10th anniversary there during the COVID year.

So getting back was like returning to our second home. Anthony in particular has grown to love it. He relishes the chance to wake up early and walk to the diner around the corner for breakfast — plate-sized pancakes and fluffy scrambled eggs. Down by the riverfront, he runs up and down the hills and watches the huge barges slowly make their way out to the lake.

Of course, he has his favorite stores to pick out souvenirs.

We did all of that during our little vacation, loading up on our favorite foods, grabbing one-of-a-kind artwork from the galleries lining downtown, and getting warm, comfy sweatshirts for the coming winter.

At the centerpiece of any trip to Grand Haven is the pilgrimage to its iconic pier and lighthouses. About a mile from downtown, where we were staying, it’s a pleasant walk along the river during nice weather. On the day we decided to make the trek, it was sunny and 65 degrees, with a strong breeze coming off Lake Michigan.

For the first part of the walk, Anthony entertained himself with the waves washing down the river channel, at the sea gulls as they rode the wind, and the shower of leaves that fell to the ground around us.

But then we made it to the sandy area near the pier. And Anthony discovered the huge slabs of rock lining the edge of the boardwalk at the sandy beach.

He hopped right up, and then proceeded to leap from rock to rock — have I mentioned he’s a daredevil? Most of the large stones were situated near enough that he didn’t need need to jump far, and the rocks had been quarried in rough rectangles, making for an easy jump.

Still, his mother and I both wore worried expressions each time he launched. We tried to gently convince him to get down and walk on the concrete, not wanting to stop his fun while wishing we could scoop him and set him on more solid ground.

We resisted. And watching Anthony, we saw problem solving in action. He would plan his jump and where he wanted to land each time. If a rock was too slanted, he would carefully find a better foothold and work his way to the next stone.

The rocks that were just too far apart, he’d climb down and walk to the next one.

Eventually, Anthony made it to the last rock and jumped down. We posed for photos with the lighthouse in the background.

The walk was just one part of an incredibly memorable vacation, but it was one that sticks in my mind. It was yet another reminder that we can’t wrap him in bubble wrap to protect him. He has to test his own abilities (within reason), and if he fails — or falls — we have to let him learn from those mistakes. Even if it’s not easy for his mom and I.

Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].

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Ryan Trares
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist at the Daily Journal. He has long reported on the opioids epidemic in Johnson County, health care, nonprofits, social services and veteran affairs. When he is not writing about arts, entertainment and lifestyle, he can be found running, exploring Indiana’s craft breweries and enjoying live music. He can be reached at [email protected] or 317-736-2727. Follow him on Twitter: @rtrares