“Wanna Build a Fort?”

Recently, a friend sent me a picture of an adult ‘fort’ filled with books and said, “I don’t know if you ever had a fort of any kind, but I had MANY. We need a blog about forts!” I’m not always able to blog about a presented topic, but Wow! The memories flooded back. And oh how I wish I had pictures for this blog, but alas, I do not have any I can share. However, the pictures in my mind are as clear to me as the ones currently on my phone.

I would also put myself in the MANY forts category, although mine were decidedly unsophisticated. In fact, to be honest, most were probably not recognizable as a fort. “Somebody needs to get in here and clean up this nest!” my Mom would say when she came across one of my indoor forts.

Without any siblings close to my age, I only had myself to rely on as an architect, and I wasn’t particularly creative or talented. I mostly had the standard model blanket-over-a-card-table fort. I would drag stuffed animal friends, books, a flashlight I wasn’t allowed to touch, snacks, a pillow, and more under the table. Sometimes I would have so much stuff that I would have to build an addition by draping part of the blanket over an adjacent chair or the back of the couch. This occasionally required a second blanket in order to ensure my privacy. When my mom (or just as likely, my dad) would insist that I put it all away I would object strenuously that I didn’t want to have to assemble it all again the next day. I didn’t understand the objection to such a wonderful haven. Who wouldn’t want a blanketed card table and a bunch of an 8 year old’s treasures gracing their living room?

Outdoor forts. Running around the neighborhood with friends, we were always looking for a place to take cover. Right? Because that’s the true purpose of a fort. A place that’s made strong and secure enough to be defended during a war. Ours often fell somewhat short of that.

Mrs. Caskey lived on the corner north of us, and she had a huge blue spruce with a little bare spot at the back. It was just big enough for a couple neighborhood kids to crawl through. Missing and large spaced branches under the canopy made it a perfect hideaway and we would huddle there for… oh, a whole three minutes or so, before we were off and running again.

We made teepees out of sticks that collapsed on us before we could even get all the troops inside. We scrounged up discarded planks and particle board, lugging them to a friend’s back yard or down near the creek where we could use vegetation as cover and sometimes a second or third wall. We’d hide in huge concrete culverts that the creek flowed through, standing high on the curved walls, avoiding leeches and looking for suckers. (Honestly I was so naïve and unindoctrinated in things that lurked in the creek, I really didn’t know the difference between a leech and a sucker, but when friends yelled, “look out for leeches and suckers” I kept my eyes peeled.) The culvert forts with the gaping openings left us vulnerable to attack at one end, but conversely left us a convenient escape route at the other end.

The best fort in the neighborhood was in the backyard of the family that lived across the creek from my friend’s house. Technically, it probably falls into the category of clubhouse. I say this because I’m quite sure adult assistance and power tools were involved. Their dad worked for the phone company and this fantasy fort was made out of a ginormous cable spool and it sat on top of a telephone pole. It had a domed skylight so you could pop your head up into it like a prarie dog and take a look around the neighborhood. It was a tough climb – especially in flip flops or bare feet – but you didn’t decline an invitation. I was only a guest once that I remember. I’m not sure if that’s because it was really the older boys that were in charge of who got to ‘go up,’ or whether the climb was too arduous. But I’ll never forget the awesomeness of the design or the thrill of having made it into the inner sanctum.

Back at home, I created a favorite and memorable fort in our kitchen closet. The closet door was on the back wall of the staircase to our second story. For the most part, only the front of the closet was useable space because the deeper you went, the lower the ceiling. Key phrase – for the most part. The back of the closet was the perfect spot for a fort. The pole that held our coats made a natural camouflaged curtain. The floor was littered with tennis shoes, boots, cleaning supplies, etc. I believe I was in search of a lost mitten when I kept crawling in further and further and discovered what a wonderful sanctuary existed, right there, literally steps away from civilization.

And so I dragged stuffed animal friends, books, a flashlight I wasn’t allowed to touch, snacks, a pillow, and more inside. It was perfect. I was living the life, until one day while my mom was trying to put some things away in the closet I was discovered. “Somebody needs to get in here and clean up this nest!”

So, my Friend, I’m not sure if any of those forts sounded like any of your forts, but we must get together and discuss over a drink. Have your people call my people. 😊