Synchronized movements in the water are artfully accomplished to music, where each swimmer depends on the others and plays a specific part in the choreographed routine. The long underwater chains of swimmers break apart and then simultaneously pop to the surface to gasp for breath – all while maintaining radiant smiles. The audience marvels at how these elegant, dolphin-like swimmers move together, making their dance appear effortless as they emerge to the surface with cheerful expressions to breathe. A synchronized swimming performance comprises two essential parts – underwater and on the surface. Teamwork is paramount: every synchronized swimmer leaves the pool with a heightened understanding of the phrase, “I really could not have done that without you.” What's visible to the audience above water is the team’s seamless coordination, flow, and collaborative effort. Synchronized swimming simply cannot succeed without a fully functioning team. How does this resonate with your own...

Planning for accessibility in parks Accessibility and accommodations for people with disabilities must be addressed by parks and recreation departments. Because of the lack of ability to participate, disabled persons have not always had the opportunity to be fully engaged in parks. When this happens, the disabled communities are marginalized as well as family and friends. Most often disabled persons and their families have a resilience for withstanding and recovering from difficulties. In spite of this, park professionals must advocate to disarm any sense of invisibility and loss of participation for persons with disabilities.   Framing the work of providing parks and programs under diversity, equity and inclusion will help ensure that everyone can participate. Inclusion broadens the opportunity to focus on providing equal opportunities for everyone in various ways. Making parks and programs accessible to all helps everyone to enjoy parks and recreation opportunities. As par...

As a child I loved walking up the street to the church on Fitzhugh Creek. Henrico County was not known for its parks in the 1960s and that was the closest parklike place to my home. At the church, I collected leaves and walked along the stream with Momma. I was not allowed to play in the water because it was not clean. The wooded area that ran beside the creek was hedged between Horsepen Road and the church on Grace Street. It was less than one half block long, at best a postage stamp - a pocket park of sorts. The size of the space did not matter. This was where I collected fall leaves that were carefully pressed between the pages of the Britannica Encyclopedia or layered between two pieces of wax paper pressed with the iron so we could take them to school.  This process of walking along the creek, collecting leaves and pressing them was how Momma taught me the names of plants and trees. She nurtured my love of nature in a city environment. It is where my love began for the outdoor...