”There’s compassion in these places plus a reverence for the behavioural code. It’s a microcosm of getting on in a crowded space”

You go, girl: a skateboarder in action. Picture Glenn Hampson

Now more than ever we need to seek distraction with beauty, urgently it feels, in these seemingly pre-apocalyptic times. And it’s found for me at dawn, sometimes, in a suburban skate park. There’s beauty in this much maligned world. It’s the intriguing combination of speed, flight, skill and danger; the ramrod straight backs, the flowing hair, the respectful camaraderie among young men and kids and, increasingly, women.

What exactly is wrong with a skateboard park? A loud and panicked generational battle is being waged in some of our cities with space at a premium and nimbyism roaring; businesses such as wedding venues, alongside residents up in arms, are intent on keeping the perceived horrors of the skatebowl at bay. Former prime minister Malcolm Turnbull weighed in on the debate a few years back, campaigning against a local skate park proposal several kilometres from his house but far too close for his liking. What would such an anomaly do to the neighbourhood expanse of green? “Adding hard surfaces and concrete structures is not sympathetic to how the park is currently used by its visitors,” Turnbull declared at the time. “These facilities also raise noise concerns for local residents that neighbour the park.” But Malcolm, where will the children play?

I’ve spent many dawns at a skate park as a ravishing sky breaks over the east with two of my kids. Yes, it involves skill and yes, we’re there at dawn because my local bowl – the only one for kilometres – has lessons so popular that only early morning slots are available. So on bleary-eyed mornings and softening afternoons I watch the rhythm of the concrete pits, the beautiful politeness of the dropping in as the skateboarders patiently wait their turn, the respect for other people’s space, the lack of ego, the rush to help if someone takes a tumble. “Hey buddy, you OK?” There’s compassion in these places plus a reverence for the behavioural code. It’s a microcosm of getting on in a crowded space.

There are many life lessons here: self-discipline, resilience, the reward in relentless practice. The skateboarding code frowns on egotism and barging in and disrespect for others – and it’s beautiful to watch. “Skateboarding is a way to let your body control the mind,” Shaun White, pro snowboarder and skateboarder said once, and that’s where the poetry comes in. What a skateboarder can do with a small piece of board and four wheels.

As Van Gogh said, “Find things beautiful, as much as you can; most people find too little beautiful.” And skateboarding, to me, is beauty. Our local bowl feels far removed from the druggy and degenerate stereotype. It’s propelling kids into the tonic of fresh air and sunshine and exercise, removing them from the Pied Piper lure of the dreaded, deadening screenland.

The stance of the skateboarder is markedly different to that of Mindy, a projection of how the human body will look circa 3000, according to recent research by Toll Free Forwarding. Mindy’s terrifying physiology is warped by consistently using smartphones and computers. She has a hunched back. A thicker “tech neck”. A deformed “texting claw” for a hand and a second eyelid to combat screen glare. Look at Mindy and weep. We should be encouraging the straight-backed posture that skateboarding as sport and exercise delivers.

Our nation’s boys are sliding in terms of their reading; the latest Naplan figures show literacy levels at a record low, particularly when compared to girls. Their focus is shot. They’re not reading books. Not consuming novels anymore. I blame the phones and the gaming screens. It’s happening right under our noses and it’s a tragedy. Skateboarding gets them away from all that; gets them out and active.

I ask the businesses and residents who are so indignantly opposed to skate parks – have you ever actually visited one and gleaned the beauty in it, the poetry of those bodies on their piece of board? I ask those people – where do the children play?