We're counting down the top 10 activities in the modern outdoors. This is based on input from thousands of True Places customers and other feedback from the wider True Places community about where they use their Emmett portable chairs, and what activities are most meaningful in their lives.
Where are you spending the most time in the modern outdoors? Are you surprised by the top 5? We'd love to hear your thoughts.
Whether you’re a novice sports parent, or grizzled veteran, you’ve undoubtedly seen the same notification pop up on your phone early Saturday morning: players arrive 45 minutes before gametime.
You rush out the door, arms filled with socks and balls and bags and cleats and thermoses. You pull into the parking lot—maybe not exactly 45 minutes before gametime, but there are clearly other cars pulling in behind you. Open the door, let the kids run out, and pat yourself on the back—you did it!
But what now? Watching them stretch and warm up is maybe good for five minutes. What to do with the other half hour or more? Have no fear, we have some ideas that go beyond endlessly scrolling your social feed…
Hopefully one of these ideas helps for your next pregame. Let us know how it goes, and if you have any other ideas, we’d love to hear them for the downtime before our own games.
Good Luck!
]]>Have you ever found yourself sitting in an old camping chair for hours each week and thought “there’s got to be a better way”? That’s what led us to create the Emmett outdoor portable chair. What’s the difference to a regular camp chair? We designed the Emmett from the ground up to be the ultimate portable chair, so while both are products that fold that you can sit on, there are big differences!
Regular camping chairs have bucket seats that you sink down into, scrunching up your spine and shoulders. Many people also find that the front lip of the seat pinches the back of the legs behind the knees. That’s all fine if there are no other options, but it's not a naturally comfortable seating position.
Regular camp chairs have fabric arms that you can’t put weight on. The Emmett uses a new, patented folding design to create a real chair with rigid arms while still folding compactly. That makes it more comfortable when you’re sitting and also easier to get yourself in and out of the chair!
Regular camp chairs are made using thin powder-coated steel frames and plastic (usually nylon) connectors, which is cost effective and provides strength given the size. The Emmett uses aerospace-grade aluminium for the frame (with additional steel-plated reinforcements to the armrests), and fiberglass/glass-filled nylon connectors. Aluminium is 3x lighter than steel, which enables the Emmett to use a more substantial and significantly more sturdy frame without adding much weight. The Emmett overall is 10.9lb vs. 7-9lb for a typical traditional camping chair.
Regular camp chairs traditionally come in a fabric, drawstring sleeve, sometimes with a thin shoulder strap. The carrying bags for the Emmett are specially designed to make it easy to get the chair in and out and easy to carry with a padded shoulder strap. The included Classic Bag is a big step up from regular camping chairs. And the optional upgrade Premium Bag is the ultimate carrying experience. It is made from recycled plastic bottles, has significant padding on the back, an extra pocket and buckles that enable you to connect two chairs to carry both hands-free like a backpack.
In a regular camp chair there is typically a round mesh cupholder built into the right fabric armrest. The cupholder (and other accessories like the phone holder) for the Emmett is an optional extra for those who want it, and connects to the right or left of the chair. It can remain on the chair when the chair folds. The cupholder fits multiple sizes of bottles up to 32oz and even mugs with handles. And with the phone holder, no more trying to fit a square phone into a round hole!
The Emmett has hooks on the back of the chair to hang the carrying bag (or other bags) when the chair is open. This is not a feature of regular camp chairs.
The Emmett has bottle-openers under both arms. This is not a feature of regular camp chairs!
Creating the best ever outdoor portable chair took us years of development, design and engineering. We’d love to hear your feedback.]]>
A long time ago, in a neighborhood far, far away, we had a fire pit…sort of. There was a spot reserved in the corner of our back yard with a makeshift fire pit. A small pile of ash encircled with a single row of old, cracked bricks. A couple of sad-looking camp chairs that were never taken inside. There were so few times that we ever made an effort to get the fire going when we had company over.
Oh, how times have changed. The marriage of smokeless fire pit innovation and inspired landscaping has rendered the backyard the perfect place for hosting nighttime get-togethers. There’s an entire realm of home entertainment just waiting to be ignited (the one and only pun, I promise).
Here are some tips to inspire creativity and create fire pit moments your guests will enjoy.
Create the right ambiance- Spending some time on setting the scene is ultimately the foundation by which everything else can flourish. String up some fun, quirky lights or break out the tiki torches. Add some vibrant, cozy blankets and pillows. Create a playlist to match the mood of the party. And course, set out a bunch of comfortable fire pit chairs. Nobody ever really wants to get up from the warmth of the fire pit, so making sure they are comfortable for the long haul is critical.
Fireside activities: If dinner is on the menu, grill some kabobs, or you could even have people make their own personal pizzas using cast iron cookware. Even if dinner isn’t served, you’ll want a good mix of drink options: coffee, tea, or hot toddies to warm the bones, and beverage staples like beer, wine, and sodas (drink pro tip: picking fire pit chairs with cup holders avoids spills and frees up hands). When bellies are full, we’re suckers for the campfire classics: telling ghost stories, singing campfire songs, maybe a game or two of charades. And if the guests are relatively unknown, consider printing out some dinner conversation starters and placing them on their chairs before they sit down.
Oh yeah…Fire Pit Safety!: We probably should have led with this, but where’s the fun in that? Ensure the area is clear, nothing around that people can trip on. Keep children and pets at a safe distance. And avoid throwing things into the fire pit like plastic, magazines, and particleboard that can release toxic fumes.
So now you’re ready to gather around and enjoy the magic of the fire! And if you’re craving more, don’t forget to check out our bonus tips for fun ideas around the fire pit.
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Driving up to the campground and pitching a tent next to your vehicle? Or truly car camping by sleeping inside your car? Either way it’s one of our favorite quick getaways with family or friends. Here’s a quick guide for both first time and experienced car campers alike. Whether you’re folding down the rows in your SUV, reimagining the flatbed of your truck, or hitting the road in the comfort of an adventure van or RV, these tips are sure to make your next car camping trip a success.
Planning Ahead
Comfort is King
Fun & Games- You chose a camping trip, so you might want to go for hike, try a little fishing (if allowed), and just sit back and enjoy the scenery. But in the downtime, below are a few ideas for additional fun. Mention these early in the car ride so that friends and/or family can come up with others.
Enjoy it out there! Let us know if you come up with a new campground game that turns into an instant classic. Regardless, send us a pic or two from your camping roadtrip so we can live vicariously.
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You’ve graduated from the fire pit basics. In fact, you can probably start the kindling, lay out all the portable chairs, and have everyone’s drink of choice prepared with one arm tied behind your back. And while we’re sensitive not to disrupt that routine, we thought you might like some fun ideas to spice it up a little bit.
S'mores station: Okay, S’mores is not a new idea. But consider taking it up a notch or two by offering gourmet chocolates, flavored marshmallows, and an assortment of cookies and graham crackers.
Kids Play, Adults Relax: You survey the backyard. The adults are nestled comfortably in their fire pit chairs, enjoying the warmth of the flames and whatever spirits you’re serving them. Far down on their list for what do to next is chasing around kids who are now hopped up on sugar from the S’mores station. Have no fear, there’s a win-win with kid’s activities. Set up a giant Jenga or cornhole ahead of time. Or if you didn’t have the foresight for this moment, an impromptu challenge is to gather blankets, pillows, and branches to see if they can create cozy backyard forts.
Look Up!: There are some really good stargazing apps out there, like SkySafari and Star Walk, that can help you identify constellations or simply contemplate the cosmos. I like to point to the sky and make up my own constellations, like Ursula’s Belt or Orion’s Dog, and see how long it takes for someone to call me out on the lies (or tell me to shut up).
Movie night under the stars: If you can find a spot nearby to hang a sheet to project a movie, you’re guaranteed a couple more hours of fire pit fun. You’ll need comfortable fire pit chairs for a full-length movie. Throw in a little popcorn, and a movie related to nature or outdoors, and voila!, your house is now the go-to neighborhood movie spot (whether you like it or not!)
If you give any of these a try—even if it’s just a slight variation at the S’mores Station, we’d love to see a pic or two from the night. We may even invite ourselves over for the next one!
]]>Nothing much beats live music. Except live music outside on a beautiful day! From small, intimate outdoor concerts in amphitheaters near your town square, to all day festivals at a state fair, there is no shortage of options to enjoy great music just outside your door.
These venues offer unique atmospheres to see your favorite artists or to discover someone new. But navigating the crowds, the logistics, and of course the unpredictable weather can be challenging to say the least. Here are some tips as you plan your next outing.
Hope these tips help! Enjoy the outdoor concert season and send us a pic or two from your favorite venue.
]]>Last summer I went to an outdoor movie theater. At least that’s what it is during the warmer months. The cash cow for this semi-rural, semi-suburban farm is a haunted house that opens its cobwebbed doors shortly after Labor Day. You can see the abandoned shed and skeletons as you pull your car into the grassy parking lot.
I would love to call this “the definitive guide to outdoor movie night.” But I must confess that it was the first time I’d been in about two decades. So it’s more like a beginner’s guide.
We hope this helps. If you do get to an outdoor movie, let us know what you saw, and any tips for readers who are thinking about getting out there this year. If you take True Places chairs, send us a pic, we’d love to see how you’re doing!
]]>By True Places Magazine Staff Writers
This is my love letter to race day fans. I hope you know what you mean to me. You stay for hours cheering us on, all the while making a party of it on the sidewalks.
For all those runners with a deep, intrinsic motivation to press on and achieve your personal best on race day, I am forever in awe. For the rest of us, we just start running and hope the crowd will help carry us to the finish line.
And so it’s you: the friends, family, and let’s face it—random people screaming at nobody in particular—that make it all feel worth it. You flash signs that read “Turn Around. It’s a Trap!”, and yell “You Got This!” to everyone that passes through your vicinity. You didn’t have to bring that wooden spoon and medium sauce pan. But you did, and banging on it when I passed gave me a second wind.
I needed you during the recent Broad Street 10 miler, and you came out despite the cold and rainy conditions. My heart is forever yours.
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By True Places Magazine Staff Writers
We're just getting started here at True Places, but from the beginning we've been committed to supporting public spaces and local recreation in our communities where we live, work and play.
We reserve a portion of our profits for local nonprofits and we donate $5 for every chair purchased through our referral program (access it via the QR code on the back leg of your Emmett folding chair 😊 )
We're proud to support Carpenter Green Park near where we started in Pennsylvania! Carpenter Green is an inclusive, open and playful space for neighbors to connect. A small urban oasis providing a place to gather, relax, and enjoy a little piece of nature in the city. Maintained by a dedicated group of local volunteers, the park is a beautiful outdoor area including lawns, paths and even a little free library!
Thanks Carpenter Green for adding our name to the park entrance - we love being on the literal path to the modern outdoors!!
]]>While we spend most of our time in the modern outdoors close to home, just outside our doors, getting away for the weekend or taking a bigger trip is always a highlight too. But whether it's an RV trip or car/tent camping, it can be hard to get the reservations you want at the best locations.
True Places has teamed up with one of our favorite organizations, Harvest Hosts, and their CampScanner tool for a special offer on the CampScanner platform. Save 15% off of any plan when you join using the code TRUEPLACES
CampScanner is a campground scanning platform that helps you find reservations at sold-out campgrounds. Camping at the parks you’ve always wanted to explore is now possible.
Search CampScanner’s database of 12,600+ campgrounds at National Parks, National Forests, State Parks, and more! Select where and when you’d like to camp, if you’re looking for tent or RV campsites, and other preferences and CampScanner will create a “scan” that searches the booking sites for you and notifies you if a reservation opens up at your perfect campground.
CampScanner is especially helpful during peak travel times when campground reservations are much more competitive, but you will save time, effort, and energy planning RV and camping trips using CampScanner all year long. Instead of monitoring and tracking all of the booking sites yourself, just wait for CampScanner to send you a direct booking link.
For a limited time, True Places, together with CampScanner from Harvest Hosts is offering an exclusive discount of 15% off of any plan when you join using the code TRUEPLACES
*Cannot be combined with other offers
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By Nelson Warley
I must confess to being a bit misty-eyed at the start of the little league baseball season. This is not normal for me. The life of a sports parent usually consists of driving from practice to practice with the main aim of not forgetting some child in the carpool. Sitting down, reflecting on the passage of time, and getting emotional in the process is a rarity. But this is my son’s last year in little league.
When he was four, he couldn’t wait to start playing T-ball. That his older sister also decided to play was icing on the cake. We showed up for the first practice on a cold, March morning to a team without a coach. I knew next to nothing about baseball, but jumped in and decided to give it a go. My mom had passed away a couple of months earlier, and I found that herding preschoolers into specific positions in the infield was a necessary respite from the grieving process. A good laugh could help too…
Driving home from his first game, I could see in my rearview mirror that he was a little down. He had thoroughly enjoyed playing that day, so I was confused.
“Ellis, did you have fun today?”
“Yeah, I did—but, but where were all the fans?!”
His only exposure to baseball before that day was a Philadelphia Phillies game. He just assumed attendance for his T-ball would rival a double-header at Citizens Bank Park.
Eight years, and thousands of innings later, here we are. The slow, relaxed pace of baseball is unlike any other sport I know. An anachronism to our busy, overly scheduled lives. So today my wife and I will bring our large tumblers of coffee, open up our chairs beyond the outfield fence, catch up on the past week, and then turn to each other and wonder how the heck it’s been eight years since that T-ball season. I must resist all urges to think about our family’s life eight years from now. Instead, just play ball! Run by run, inning by inning.]]>By True Places Magazine Staff Writers
It had been over two years since our family had seen grandma. She lives abroad, thousands of miles away, and despite best efforts of staying close through Zoom, WhatsApp and other technology, there’s no getting around the fact that there’s nothing exactly like being together in person.
Her long awaited visit was a chance to reconnect with the grandkids - disbelieve how much they have grown (“I can’t believe it”) and be amazed at how well they read (“there were some very tough words in there”), as well as worry about traveling home (“they keep changing the rules, first this test, then that one”).
It was also an opportunity to introduce her to the finest of American delicacies: s’mores! Originally called the “Some More”, the toasted marshmallow, chocolate and graham cracker concoction is said to have been the brainchild of one Loretta Scott Crew, a Girl Scout troop leader looking to feed 16 hungry scouts in 1927. It may now be a childhood mainstay all across the US, but you don’t realize how uniquely American it is until you’re with a visitor.
Grandma’s verdict? It’s a hit (“this could become very popular, you know”) She did insist on calling them “S’mor-ES” as if they were actually an old Spanish recipe. But, overall, with some guidance on optimal marshmallow toasting from the kids, she showed that there’s no age limit on s’mores enjoyment! And the best part? An unexpected, but welcome, new family memory.
]]>For almost 15 years of my professional life, I worked for Campbell Soup Company. If you ever lived on the coast of South Carolina—say in the greater Beaufort/Bluffton area—you would have known this to be true. One year for Mother’s Day I gifted my Mom a bright red hoodie with the classic Campbell script on it, and she wore it everywhere. Before someone could even finish commenting on it, she would tell them that I worked there, and then grossly exaggerate my role and contribution at the company. This surprised no one in my family, especially my siblings, who were always the source of such heaping praise.
Parenting can often be about playing to your strengths. An unwavering pride in her children was certainly one of her superpowers. She passed away almost a decade ago, so every Mother’s Day I tell my children stories about her, to enrich their understanding of who she was, and of course to make sure I never forget.
A couple of years ago when we were designing our first product for True Places, there was a story I started telling myself, usually when we hit the inevitable speed bumps on the startup road. The story involves my Mom, with a True Places chair tucked neatly into the carrying bag, walking around town. To the waterfront park, to the playground with her grandkids, to the Publix to the pick up a few ingredients for dinner. She would be begging anyone to ask about what’s draped over her shoulder, so she can quickly take it out and say, “my son designed the red chair just for me”. I could at some point let her know that the color is actually coral, but why stop her when she’s on a roll.
]]>By True Places Magazine Staff Writers
Every year I’m amazed at how all of a sudden everyone seems to be in a better mood when the spring comes around. What is it about the spring that’s so good?
For me and my family, it’s about getting outside without having to think about packing yourself up with layers and layers. Of course, it’s partly just enjoying the longer days and more sunlight in general. But it’s also the small moments, like seeing a swarm of honey bees working on the new flowers. Leaving the back door open so the cat can jump in and out at its own leisure. Walking past certain places in the neighborhood where we know there will be stunning flowers in bloom. Sitting on our porch sipping lemonade and saying hi to passersby.
The deeper ideas of renewal, new beginnings (maybe even second chances) and growth loom large in the mind. How do you smell the fresh spring air and see nature blooming around you and not start thinking of possibilities, opportunities, and what can be created anew in your own life?
For me, it’s really about taking a moment to appreciate the life and activity close to home. What is it for you? The local outdoor concert? Seeing strawberries appearing at the farmers market? The preparations for opening the local pool?
Whatever it is for you, don’t forget to take a moment to enjoy it. It’s time to spring forward!
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I live in an ugly little apartment complex, in an ugly part of the city. Each building in this complex boasts a paint-flecked and withered stucco finish, in two varying shades of mustard and rust. The railings are old and droopy, the courtyards are barren, and every few yards you drive into the parking lot, there is a gnarly oak tree jutting up from the cement as if it had erupted from Hell itself.
For the first couple of years, I barely saw any of my neighbors. We all kept to ourselves, tucked away in our nests and minding our own business. Occasionally something momentous would draw us all outside at the same time. I shook hands with people during the 2016 solar eclipse, and then never spoke to them again. In another instance a police helicopter was buzzing low around the complex for a couple of hours, and though nothing came of it, I shared some concerned looks with a few neighbors before ducking back inside. We were all caught in some invisible undercurrent, pinning us facedown into our own endless flow of mindless daily tasks.
In 2020, even though I lived at eye level with the activity of our courtyard, it was particularly silent that year. Since any neighborly sighting was considered a medical threat, I marched in and out of my door with my eyes down, blinders on, and mask secured. Nothing had really changed for me, besides the extra face padding. That is, until I looked out of my bedroom window one evening.
It was a Tuesday – such a random day for a gathering, I thought. The pandemic had been raging several months, so the sounds of laughter and chatter that filled the parking lot were striking and unusual. People aren’t allowed to laugh in 2020, are they?
When I peeked out of my bedroom window, I saw the usual sliver of parking lot and the rusty stucco wall of the opposite building. Standing among the parked vehicles and cement was a group of people- of neighbors -all armed with beers, smokes, and happy dogs on leashes. They were circulating around the corner unit of the adjacent building, some sitting and some standing at a distance, but all relaxing in a way that I hadn’t seen since before the virus. I couldn’t believe how I’d never noticed them before; it’s as if they had manifested from thin air one late summer night.
Like clockwork on every Tuesday evening, they would gather around the corner unit and spill out into the parking lot. Sometimes the group was larger, sometimes it was lean – but they always had beer on hand, and smiles on their faces. It was only inevitable that I would have a close encounter with them, and when I did, they welcomed me into the pack like I’d been there all along.
They called it “Beer Me Tuesdays”- very appropriately -and the more I spent time on the outskirts of the group, the clearer my vision became. They were an indiscriminate mixture of ages and races, of different life paths and personalities. Each person had lived in the complex for a unique set of years, in varying buildings. After a few Tuesday nights I began to remember my own identity: into my 30s, creative professional, college grad in another lifetime. I used to be a social butterfly, used to feel energized holding conversations with strangers.
Through this group of neighbors, I was reinvigorated to participate not only in my own life again, but in my community. They weren’t just a tired bunch of neighbors who needed a midweek buzz; they were friends and comrades, looking out for one another. We shared news updates and local gossip, comforted each other, kept each other informed and safe. It was a kind of congregation, a secular worship just a few feet from my doorstep.
By the start of 2022, Beer Me Tuesdays had faded. The neighbor who rented the corner unit moved away and the vaccine opened up the outside world again, pulling everyone in separate directions. The sacred little community has passed, but it left its mark on all of us. The sense of isolation has disappeared almost entirely, and I frequently stop to chat with old Beer Me folks when our paths cross. I even catch myself smiling at neighbors I haven’t had the chance to meet yet.
When I leave my apartment, I no longer study my feet. And I think, maybe that rusty stucco is more of a rustic terracotta. Maybe these modest gravel courtyards aren’t so bad. These parking lot oak trees are awkward and charming. Maybe this cactus is more of a desert flower.
]]>By True Places Magazine Staff Writers
Photo: Marian Anderson Theater Group outdoor performance of Hamilton, Thanksgiving week 2021
Gratitude’s a funny thing. It’s powerful, and profound, and quite literally asks us to count our blessings. It makes us feel good to acknowledge the things and people that are important in our lives. And it makes those people feel good to be acknowledged. It’s a win-win, and yet many of us need rituals and times and plans and schedules and sometimes even a whole lot of stress to simply stop and give thanks. To simply stop.
Thanksgiving, in a way, feels out of time. It’s on a Thursday, not a weekend. It calls for dinner at really a rather odd time. It’s a holiday, but an entirely secular one, a rare inclusive national event flexible enough to allow us to engage with its deeply complicated history while celebrating coming together. Thanksgiving is not just about reflecting and showing appreciation, but doing it collectively. Setting aside time and creating space to offer gratitude not just privately but to and with those around us.
There are a lot of moments in life and a lot of practices – religious, secular, and in the arena of health and wellness – that encourage gratitude and self-reflection. Those are lovely, and for those from whom they work, extremely powerful. Thanksgiving is different. It’s not about personal reflection and quiet acknowledgment. It’s explicitly – and structurally, and beautifully – public. It’s a time out of time that encourages Americans to honor past moments of joining together by coming together in the present and sharing space, sharing sustenance, sharing support. It’s a chance, for those who want it, to reimagine what it means to pause within time and reach across space to inhabit these spaces together.
This Thanksgiving, we share special reverence for the act of coming together. The pandemic has shown us that the simple act of being with one another is not always so simple. But it has also shown us that we have enormous resilience and creativity and we will find ways to gather. It may be outside; it may be cold; it may include blankets and chairs and firepits and masks and meals on laps. It may include phone calls and zoom calls and waving from a distance. But it will always include gratitude and gathering, in some way or other. This Thanksgiving, we give thanks for the moments, big and small. And we give thanks, with renewed appreciation and reflection and a sense of loss and mourning and recovery, for the mere act of being together.
]]>I sat on my couch, willing my hands to remember just how to hit a note cleanly on my new banjo. Keeping my right hand curved as if holding a credit card between heel and first knuckle, I hammered down again and again, muting the strings with my other hand, trying to get the distinctive bum-diddy of clawhammer banjo. I internalized the movement while watching a sitcom.
A season of Parks and Recreation later, I had the basics down and was thirsting for more- I wanted to play with people. That was what folk music was all about, right? I texted a friend asking to play with them, and they gave me a date and time for the next get together to play music-- the local old time jam, playing music from the South and Appalachian regions of the US on traditional folks instruments like banjo and fiddle (but never violin!). Their only other instruction? “Bring a chair.”
Dragging my camp chair and unwieldy banjo case from my car, I walked out through the park where I saw a distant circle of claustrophobically close chairs. Folks saluted me with bows and a slight wave of larger instruments, and scooched to make room in the closed circle. Musicians were so close that we were almost on top of each other, leaning forward to listen as each melody seemed to sprout from a single fiddle and grow to cover the entire group, elaborating as we repeated the songs.
That was my first old time jam, over four years ago, and since then my banjo, my chair, and myself have traveled up and down the east coast finding old time jams. Nearly every region of the United States features a regular gathering to play old time fiddle tunes, and it takes a quick visit to Facebook or Old Time Central to find them. Certain venues, like the Floyd Country Store in Floyd, VA, are beacons of old-time music, with Floyd boasting a monthly radio show, frequent performances (especially pre-COVID), and weekly jams that bring dozens from around the rural area to play tunes together. The collective knowledge of tradition and transmission of songs from generation to generation lends a sense of family to every gathering. This is only cemented more when one sees parent-child duos seated next to each other, passing on the familial love of music.
Summer brings something even more special: festivals and fiddlers’ conventions. Some of my fondest memories include sitting in chairs around a campfire with my closest friends, harmonies rising with the smoke of the fire into the peaceful pine forest around us. Folk songs are best played with folks, and a gathering of hundreds of potential musical collaborators makes each gathering its own version of a song. The “Old Joe Clark” of one festival might have little in common with any other version. It’s amazing what the simple act of bringing a chair can do -- it can open up a whole world of music and camaraderie in the casual outdoors of America, keeping traditions alive and adding to the endless chorus of music made for and by the people.
]]>By True Places Magazine Staff Writers
When I was a kid we had a couple of dogs, Edisto and Maggie. I thought the new additions were part of a well-orchestrated plan to expand our family. Years later I realized my Dad had not told my Mom about buying Edisto, he just surprised her one afternoon.
After a solid month of Edisto’s constant whining from the backyard, my Mom broke down and picked up a rescue dog, Magnolia (Maggie for short) from the SPCA. They were inseparable—compatible personalities, and large backyard to roam, gave them a happy existence.
At least that’s what I tell myself. In full candor, we didn’t spend much time with them. For many years I harbored an enormous amount of guilt for the neglect. When my wife and I decided to add a couple of dogs to the house (JoJo and Emmett), I swore I would learn from my mistakes.
Turns out I significantly over-corrected. They go with us everywhere—to parks, around town, you name it. During the pandemic they relished the morning walks in the neighborhood. So nowadays they’re staring at the leashes before I finish my first cup of coffee. I’ve slowly trained myself to believe that they are intentionally sitting in any open chair in order to keep it warm for their owners. They do love a nice seat though…throw in a blanket and it’s clearly their happy place.
]]>By True Places Magazine Staff Writers
I didn't grow up with Halloween. It wasn't celebrated where I lived and was viewed with at most mild curiosity by my family and local community. It just wasn't part of my (or my partner's) childhood traditions, so when we had our own kids we didn't expect to give Halloween a second thought.
But turns out it's a BIG DEAL where we live now, in a densely populated urban area. It's a true communal event, and one of the only times in the year that almost the entire neighborhood gets together outside and actually interacts with each other. Driven by our kids not wanting to miss out, we've come to love it.
I still couldn't explain to you why people celebrate Halloween (well, I could go into the pagan origins but no-one cares!), and neither could most of our neighborhood. But it's become a national secular holiday divorced from its origins and the reality is people love an excuse to dress up in costumes, decorate and collect candy. More importantly, people love the chance to meet their neighbors, sit on their stoops, see others on the communal streets and have a shared experience. And, let's be honest, carving pumpkins is pretty fun!
What's your favorite part of Halloween in your community?
]]>When I moved to Austin, TX in 2013, the announcement was met with lukewarm applause. Back then the city was still characterized as a college town with a bad case of hippie fever, dusty and sleepy except for the occasional killer music festival. I was barely even able to afford a studio apartment back then – but I was fueled by optimism and leftover ramen noodles, and just dumb enough to make it work.
I made a lot of things work back then, in spite of my chronic lack of money, and especially in spite of my comfort. I remember many a cold night bar hopping on 6th Street, wearing nothing but cheap pumps and a tube dress. I remember chasing after free yoga classes and hitting my power pose on an old beach towel instead of a proper mat. I remember stumbling upon free music events around town and sitting on whatever inanimate object was at my disposal (i.e. garbage cans, parking bollards, the ground).
By the mid-2010s, as I embarked on a mental and emotional growth spurt, I watched Austin grow alongside me. Ever so slowly our baby fat fell away. The killer music festivals became “official destination events” for people worldwide. I straightened up and focused on a career path rather than my next weekend diversion. The city shifted away from Slackerwood and hippie hollow and developed a market for hipsters and tech startups. I upgraded from a studio apartment to a single bedroom, complete with a boyfriend. The ground under my feet gradually became more solid, but it certainly was losing its exciting edge.
Eventually, my social life took a nosedive. The price tag of the city’s typical excursions doubled as Austin evolved even further into a stage of tech-based affluence. Moguls moved into their custom mansions in the hill country and millionaires from around the United States started snatching up property within city limits, shouldering out the very people- the artists, the entrepreneurs, and yes, even the hippies -who contributed to the funky texture of Austin. Suddenly my city was trendy, desirable, elitist – and as a full-grown adult, I couldn’t afford to participate in its glorious renaissance.
Technically I still can’t. I’m into my 30s, still in that same single bedroom with the same boyfriend. After a year of huddling within the same four walls, listening to the news recycle itself over and over, I’ve been gasping for new experiences and better memories. But I’ve discovered that, as I get closer to mid-life, I tend to approach it at a steadier pace – so steady, in fact, that it comes to a crawl in the face of a social life. 6th Street simply isn’t an option anymore. I’d rather pay for yoga indoors than scramble to find an empty spot on the rooftop of the downtown Whole Foods. And what’s the fun in listening to local music if you can’t find a comfortable seat?
It turns out a comfortable seat was the solution to my problem all along. An impulse purchase from True Places last month resulted in a folding chair on my doorstep, and within days I was cooking up reasons to use it. Where could I go that would put some mileage on this thing, but not bore me to death?
Suddenly, just like that, Austin blossomed for me: backyard bonfires, park picnics, live outdoor watch parties, 5k runs…the city that I condemned as this symbol of stupid, unattainable extravagance crashed back down to my level. Within 3 weeks, I managed to spend time with all of my local friends scattered about the city. I was enjoying Austin again, reintroducing myself to a city that I hadn’t truly seen in many years. And the best part? I could sit! No more compromising comfort for the sake of a thrill.
It would be an overstatement to say that a folding chair revolutionized my life. In truth, I simply underestimated my need to guarantee myself a good seat. Austin’s next stage of evolution will be as arbitrary and amusing as my own, but at least now I have a comfy spot to sit, and watch, and relax.
]]>By True Places Magazine Staff Writers
The 2023 Emmett Folding Chair represents the second generation of the Emmett - our award-winning portable chair for the modern outdoors.
All the great things about the Emmett remain, including the patented folding design creating supreme comfort and portability, and all the thoughtful features. We've increased the lower back/lumbar support and we've made some engineering refinements to the armlock and other key areas resulting in even smoother opening and closing. We've also tweaked the color of the X-bars, so they are now the same as the primary legs.
The Emmett is available for pre-order from March 2023 and will be in stock for delivery in early April 2023. It's available in navy, coral, sky blue and marigold - check it out!!
]]>I used to think I knew a lot about my neighborhood, but that was before quarantine shrank everything. As the weeks of staying home became months, and the months became seasons, my socially-distanced walks in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, where I live, became more than just mental health exercise, and began to be more exploratory.
A lot of my walking discoveries were small: buildings and facades I hadn’t stopped to consider, strange statues in front of an art gallery, a giant industrial gear installed (or abandoned?) on the sidewalk. But my favorite discovery has been the Newtown Creek Nature Walk, a small promenade on the extreme northern border of the neighborhood.
On paper, it's the last place you'd think to go to relax: the walk is along Newtown Creek, a small offshoot of the East River that, due to years of industrial run-off and a massive oil leak, has the ignominious classification as one of the most polluted bodies of water in the U.S. As if that weren’t enough, the park also abuts a wastewater treatment plant -- yes, that waste -- and a metal scrapyard that is usually crushing and stacking the twisted remnants of cars and appliances.
But this little strip of shoreline has become my quarantine oasis.
The park is properly named a “walk.” Beginning with a small staircase, the walk is narrow throughout, threading its way through the treatment plant, past a parking lot, and then around the shoreline of the creek in a jagged fish-hook shape. Its length is full of beautiful details -- an austere, boat-like entrance, large steps that dramatically descend into the river water, views of Manhattan’s skyline -- but the designers’ master stroke was managing to obscure the brevity and slenderness of the park. The park feels larger and more intimate than it would otherwise due to clumps of plants -- all native and labeled with facts about their traditional uses -- and recessed seating along the water. These obscure continuous sightlines, making the space feel more intimate, and larger than it is, full of small nooks.
It's a surprisingly tranquil, yet unapologetically urban space. It's not a place to hide from the city, but rather an oasis squarely within the city. So many of New York’s bigger parks let you feel outside of urbanity for a while, but Newtown Creek has no pretensions of being anywhere but right in the middle of the city. No matter where you are, you see and feel New York around you.
I like the city. I like living in the city -- though it can be hard, and grinding, and tougher than it needs to be. City life is dense and full of wonderful wrinkles and juxtapositions to lose yourself in. But the pandemic has made me think a lot about escape and how it relates to my comfort and security. So many of us are wondering whether the city is ”worth it,” whether it’s better to get out, whether we need some kind of escape. Newtown Creek Nature Walk has been a reminder that the city always has something new to offer. You don’t need to run away. The city will always reveal a new fold to hold you in.
]]>By True Places Magazine Staff Writers
We continue to be blown away by the styles of local modern outdoor dining areas. Thanks for the suggestions and other incredible examples to include below. And please support your local restaurants!
What's better than some of the best middle-eastern food in North America? Eating it with family in a yurt, of course!
Kudos: Zahav
What's outdoor dining without a white table cloth and crystal chandelier anyway?!
Kudos: Barclay Prime
Cuban-inspired vegan food clearly deserves some incredible pink arches and stunning black and white tiled floor.
Kudos: Guevaras
Get that beer festival vibe every day; no better place to throw back a few drinks with friends in neighborhood.
Kodos: Fado
If only waiting for your train in the London underground were as elegant and comfortable as this.
Kudos: Dandelion
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We're just blown away by variety of styles and creativity of restauranteurs. Please do support the outdoor dining areas of your local restaurants!
Even more of our favorites...
No worries about plates sliding off, and when you're thirsty you just bang a hole in the barrel (if only!)
Kudos: Oyster House
Chic cape cod vibe stretching along half the block. You have to feel for the servers trekking to the end of the row, but with food as good as the decor, it's worth the wait.
Kudos: The Love
Pandemic? No problem. Just drape some curtains over scaffolding and you're all set to enjoy the extensive wine selection. The show must go on!
Kudos: Vintage Wine Bar & Bistro
Definitely does the job if not the most permanent look. We appreciate the lattice walls so you can focus on the game on the big screens at this classic sports bar!
Kudos: Cavanaugh's
In keeping with the latin-inspired food, escape on a tropical getaway while looking out onto the bustling street!
Kudos: Bar Bombon
Back to basics...we go for the delicious food anyway!
Kudos: Miles Table
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More favorites from around our neighborhoods. We're blown away by the creativity and style of local restauranteurs, transforming the roadsides in front of their eateries into stunning dining areas. Please support the outdoor dining spaces of your local restaurants and bars and if you're ever in Philly, be sure to check these places out!
The view overlooking the park...the window boxes...the vaulted ceiling and modern lighting...you almost forget you're sitting in a former parking space.
Kudos: Parc
In preparation for moving to another planet if life on earth comes to an end, be sure to practice eating out in a space bubble ahead of time.
Kudos: Hawthornes
In addition to satisfying your kindergarten nostalgia, you can't deny the practicality of this setup - in the winter the hole in the middle holds a heater to warm everyone at the table equally.
Kudos: Mission Taqueria
While the entrance may say industrial freezer, the tasteful decor on the inside transports you to a far off upscale agave farm!
Kudos: Tequilas
With a ceiling of plants and other greenery around, you couldn't fit much more vegetation in this spot. But together with the adirondack chairs, it all works!
Kudos: Rouge
It's been a tough year for our friends in the restaurant industry. But out of necessity comes creativity, and in this case some extraordinary outdoor dining areas. Check out some of the best styles we've spotted below.
Please support your local eateries and if you happen to be in Philadelphia stop by one of these fine examples for good food and great outdoor dining. Which is your favorite?
Installing actual patio doors in the road is definitely taking it up a level.
Kudos: Ambrosia
Just a little graffiti, sidewalk chalk and some sweet old school lawn chairs.
Kudos: Wine Dive
Who needs walls when you can just put the roof right down onto the road? We love everything about these A-frames, from the size to the color choices.
Kudos: Pinefish
What you may miss in privacy you'll more than make up for in the sheer excellence of getting to dine in what looks like a small greenhouse.
Kudos: Aki Nom Nom
Red velvet curtains? Check. Elaborate chandelier? Check. Ornate rug? Check. There's no better place to have some strong drinks and outstanding vegan food.
Kudos: Charlie Was A Sinner
We'll be back with some more of our local favorites soon, but in the meantime let us know what style you love!
]]>When the world locked down for the pandemic, my husband and I looked at each other in terror--not just about COVID, but about what exactly we were going to do with our three wild animal sons under age 5, under one roof, in the crisp and chilly days of early spring. After the first stressful weeks of kids shouting in the background of Zoom calls, we figured out our secret to reconnecting was sitting in the driveway. We’d purchased a camper just months before, and didn’t realize how essential it would be to our family’s mental well-being during one of the most trying times of our lives.
Camping became a hot trend during the pandemic, as cooped up Americans realized it was one of the most socially-distanced “vacations” they could do. Campers started to sell out, and others who tried to buy new campers after us had month-long waiting lists. Campgrounds started to book out months in advance where they’d been available days before in the past. Americans were seeking solace right outside their towns, as one of their only options.
We’d camped before, in a smaller hand me down camper that had fallen apart just a few months into our new hobby. So, we’d thrown some money where our mouths were and decided this would be the year our family would connect in the outdoors, and build memories for our sons who were dying to get out of suburbia and into simple pleasures like nearby creeks, lakes, forests, and adventures.
We weren’t looking to camp very far away. We had a colicky baby who couldn’t stand more than 20 minutes in the car without making it well known that he was done. So, we did some out of the box thinking, and planned weekend trips every other week for the next six months, all within just an hour of our hometown. We realized quickly we didn’t need to go far to detach from technology, mind-numbing Zoom calls, and the claustrophobic nature of having all of us under one roof every day.
Within minutes of arriving at any campsite, my sons instantly play more peacefully together. The first trips consisted of them looking for clues for buried treasure--each campsite number and water pipe marking was part of a greater map they’d decided all campgrounds use to help kids find the treasure. They thought of all of this on their own, and to this day while we camp they’ll still run ahead on a walk, scour the ground, and decide a rock or marking is “evidence.” They’ve never found the treasure, but we realize (and they someday will) that the time outside, together, is the treasure.
There were more trials and treasures to be found camping together: the predictable marriage spats all campers find themselves in as they try to help each other back up the camper into a tiny lot. The opportunity to sit under the expanse of stars once the kids were all finally asleep in the camper (or at least slyly messing around, jumping on each others’ bunk beds). Our friends looked at us quizically when they learned about our pandemic camping hobby--how does leaving your house to set up another mini-house and sit around sound appealing? The answer was, it simplifies everything. We didn’t look at our phones the entire weekend (not that there was reception anyway). We had no purpose for TVs, iPads, computers, or video games because our kids were so busy tromping around the creek debating how many leaves a poison ivy plant has and how many sets of skin snakes shed in their lifetimes. None of us could look up the answers if we wanted to, and that made it better.
Thanks to the pandemic forcing us together, and outside, we know we will be lifelong campers, and our sons will grow up with fond memories of weekends outside together. It saved our sanity short term, and will unite our family long term.
]]>I live in Eugene, Oregon, in the outrageously beautiful Pacific Northwest, where you can look in any direction and see some of the most remarkable natural scenery on this planet. But mostly, for what feels like forever, I’ve lived at my kitchen table, trying to avoid the news abyss on my laptop and thinking about whether or not I should order takeout for the fifth night in a row.
So, it seems, has everyone, since we were relegated to our homes during the pandemic. But whether you live alone or were starting to feel a little cramped with your family or roommates, getting outside can reinvigorate some vital connections: to your loved ones, to nature and – importantly – to yourself.
Though I’ll brag about how beautiful the natural surroundings around my apartment in downtown Eugene are, anyone can connect with the outdoors. Here’s my guide to finding your “true place” and shaking off some of the cabin fever blues.
First, abandon the electronics. I know from personal experience that your phone can feel like a phantom limb, but I promise you’ll survive without it for an hour. (This is me telling myself this, too!) Working from home allows us some freedoms, but it’s also whittled down some of what was left of the separation between humans and computers.
Usually I walk with my headphones on, but leaving those behind can be freeing. One of my favorite places is on top of a small butte near my house, with a mellow hiking trail that leads you to a fantastic view of the city. If you sit quietly, you can foster connections with things you never knew you might connect with. Birds and squirrels, sure – sometimes you might even spot a deer. But also the wind’s movement through the trees and then your hair, and the drizzle of the rain.
I am a horrible meditator, with a racing brain that wants to implode at the thought of sitting still for five minutes. But mindfulness can be as easy as counting the orange leaves on the tree that’s slowly getting bare, or genuinely listening to another person, no distractions. Try to acknowledge everything you see, and then let it go.
Finding your true place doesn’t mean hiding it from the rest of the world, either. You can forge a meaningful connection with a spot that other people have access to, and smiling at a stranger, even from behind masks, can be a part of that. It’s hard for me to remember that I used to share spaces with other people – at restaurants, on the bus, in schools – and I'm looking forward to getting back to that. Your relationship to a place will always be unique.
Getting a change of scenery used to be a lot more simple than during the past year, but doing it is vital. Cut yourself and those you live with some slack and allow yourself the simple luxury of enjoying the places right outside your door. You deserve the connections it will bring.
]]>I had my reservations about this apartment. The kitchen could barely fit two people and my bedroom could barely fit a full-sized bed. The living room didn’t have any windows and I wasn’t sure if we would have room for something as basic as a table. But, my roommates successfully convinced me it would be worth it for the balconies that hung outside of our bedroom doors. Living in New York City, I was used to compromises. This was just another one — a tiny indoor space for a tiny bit of outdoor space.
Living in the city, I grew desensitized to the basic idea of private outdoor space. It was as if I’d forgotten my Midwest childhood full of backyards that would easily sprawl over an acre of land, and simply accepted that the outdoors only existed through public parks and sidewalks with other people. When my roommates and I had the opportunity to get this simple luxury back, I wasn’t even sure I wanted it.
We moved in the summer, right in the middle of a global pandemic. The apartment overflowed quickly with boxes and I grew easily overwhelmed. Over and over, I thought to myself that this had to have been a mistake. I was convinced we would never fit everything we needed into such a tiny unit. But slowly — as we broke in the space — everything found its place. Books on shelves, clothes on hangers, and me on the balcony.
Like so many others, the coronavirus pandemic took a toll on my mental health. Between working from home and a lack of socialization mixed with the fear and sadness that comes from so many deaths, recent months haven’t been easy. However, they’ve been better since living in this new apartment.
I didn’t realize how deeply our balconies would affect me, and how quickly they’d become an oasis. After long days staring at a computer and working from the same room I sleep, stepping outside to read a book to the sounds of nature has become the simplest refuge. Taking lunch breaks in the sunshine creates a physical change from the monotony of the workday. Saturday morning air with a cup of coffee is easily the purest moment of my week.
It wasn’t until this year that I was reminded how much outdoor space is a necessity in my life. While it’s been a way to break up a world that exists almost entirely inside now, it also reminds me that there is so much more to our existence than just the situation we’re in now. Sitting on my balcony has become a front-row seat to the beauty of our planet and the people who inhabit it.
When I turn towards the south, apartment roofs only barely peak through maple trees behind our building. It’s one of the few places I know in the city where nature overpowers concrete. I can see leaves rustling peacefully, dancing softly to the music of a bird’s call and response. I smell the changing seasons and watch the days begin and end.
When I look to the east, I see the sprawling metropolis. I’m reminded of the resilience and strength of human civilization. I see people walking their dogs and playing with kids. I hear laughter and live music from a rooftop a few blocks away. Even the stereotypical sirens of the city bring comfort as I think of thousands of men and women who dedicate their lives to saving others.
I’m inspired daily from watching our planet and people from my own little perch on the world. During a time where everything in life seems wrong, sitting on my balcony is one of the few things that feels right. It’s become a sanctuary, an escape, peace — and I get all of this just for the price of a smaller bedroom.
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