Vaughn-Hall: Recreation and parks shaped me as a kid. I wish the same for my son.

Defending honors on the monkey bars, engaging in impromptu water fights and confessing puppy-love crushes: Most of my childhood rites of passage are tied to the Tarzana Recreation Center in Los Angeles.

Like a main artery, that center was a connector for so many of my funny yet formative memories and early experiences.

I want those same opportunities for my nearly 2-year-old son, who I’m raising in Baltimore.

As a parent in 2026, I’m tasked with showing the appeals of physical activity to offset a heavily digital age that ruins attention spans. This isn’t to parent-shame, but I don’t want my son to solely rely on a tablet for entertainment and joy. I’d like outdoor recreation to be a forethought and not seem like a punishment or foreign country away from screen time.

Balance, I’m learning, is a constant theme of parenthood.

A city’s recreation and parks offerings have always been about much more than finding a go-to spot in the sandbox. For me, it’s where lifelong friendships were made, hobbies were discovered, and true childhood memories unfolded.

I’m sure my mom and her husband at the time were stoked to find a house a block away from Tarzana Park and its recreation center in the 1990s. With four kids, it was probably like hitting the jackpot. The park is where I first learned how to play basketball and got really good at it. My mom, who was a police officer in the area, was most often my coach.

My stepbrother and I loved hooping there so much that we’d often hide in trash bins when the oh-so-annoyed and tired park employees were trying to close up. Once or twice we didn’t get caught, and we played basketball for hours in the gym.

The park was a meet-up spot for neighborhood kids. My siblings and I are friends with several of them to this day and are starting to watch each other’s kids grow up.

The park was our favorite haunt. I’d always find the swing that went the highest and most times I’d land safely in the sand. I confessed feelings for a crush there and struck out miserably. I’m also pretty sure I made a quick appearance in the rec center’s production of “Grease” as an extra. (I was too shy to audition for Betty Rizzo.)

One year we had a messy water fight at the park and zigzagged through the palm trees around the main building to soak each other and escape the summer heat. We still talk about the mayhem over 20 years later.

My son is going to be the only kid I have. And as a one-and-done mom, a sibling isn’t the greatest gift I can give him. Instead, it’s giving him as many opportunities to make friends and explore the outdoorsy curiosity I already see budding within him.

I’m not saying my son will never have a phone, or never know who Miss Rachel is, but I’m making a concerted effort to get him familiar with Baltimore’s parks and what they have to offer.

As a city neighborhood and community reporter, I can tell you that almost everywhere I go, I hear an iteration of the same sentiment — there aren’t enough recreation centers or things for kids to do.

I didn’t grow up making use of Baltimore City Recreation and Parks amenities, but since I’ve been back, there seem to be major investments in the department.

Four years ago, Mayor Brandon Scott and other civic leaders pledged to use $41 million in coronavirus pandemic relief funds to upgrade parks and public spaces, including city pools. The city trounces neighboring counties when it comes to public pools.

Last summer, I took a water exploration class with my son at Middle Branch Recreation Center in Cherry Hill. It was self-guided, but he got to meet a few other kids and the lifeguards, as well as explore the facility, all before turning 1.

Recreation and parks also has started to grasp that not all kids are interested in sports. I toured the newly renovated Chick Webb Memorial Recreation Center in East Baltimore, which features a pool, a soundbooth for making music and a teen lounge. Other centers in the city include programming around comic books, crocheting, DJing, and more at no cost.

I recently profiled Director Reginald Moore, who heads the city’s recreation and parks department, and asked what makes a good park. For him, it boiled down to a place where anyone can come and “feel safe and do what they want within reason.”

As simple as it sounds, I think he may be on to something.

I understand times have changed. Parents can’t be as trusting of the world as maybe my parents were, when we’d stay outside from sunup to sundown. Maybe people are still reeling from the antisocial COVID-19 days.

I’m sure there’s some sense of security within the four corners of a screen, but my hope is to raise a kiddo who chooses to touch a little grass.