Few people in adolescent behavioral health have been at it as long, or with as much personal investment, as Patrick Barrasso. The founder of In Balance Behavioral Health and Align Adolescent Recovery, Patrick has spent decades working alongside adolescents and their families at some of the most difficult moments of their lives.
The Founder's Corner is where that experience finds a voice. Each installment, Patrick shares his reflections, observations, and the occasional story from over forty years in a field he has never stopped learning from.
Recently, I found myself in an arcade in Texas with two of my grandchildren (yes—two out of 8
and yes, I am getting older). We were there for the simple purpose of having fun. After the usual
whirlwind of flashing lights and buzzing machines, they proudly collected nearly 10 thousand
tickets—an impressive haul that translated, as it often does, into about three dollars’ worth of
small prizes.
Among the options were those classic little plastic army men.
My 12-year-old grandson looked at them, puzzled, and asked, “What do you even do with
those?”
It was such a simple question—but in that moment, I realized just how complex our current
world has become.
There was a time when no instructions were needed. Those small plastic figures could become
anything: heroes, villains, entire worlds built out of imagination. They were tools for storytelling,
creativity, and connection. Today, many young people have had fewer opportunities to
experience that kind of unstructured, imaginative play—play that exists entirely outside of
screens and programmed outcomes.
In the animal kingdom, play is far more than entertainment. It is foundational. Young
mammals—whether wolves, primates, or dolphins—engage in play to develop social bonds,
practice communication, and learn the rules of cooperation and conflict. Through play fighting,
chasing, and shared exploration, they are preparing for life within a community. Play is how they
learn to belong.
Humans are no different.
Many of us remember endless days spent outdoors—building forts, digging bunkers, creating
entire neighborhoods of imagination. We didn’t just pass the time; we built relationships. We
negotiated rules, resolved conflicts, formed alliances, and learned, often without realizing it, how
to exist in connection with others. Those moments were not trivial—they were training grounds
for life.
When I first began developing the model in 1991 that would eventually become Alina Lodge in
2004, I drew from both research and lived experience. I believed then—and still do—that young
men need more than structure and accountability. They need opportunities to reconnect with
something deeply human: the ability to be in community, to engage face-to-face, and to build
relationships without the constant mediation of technology.
Some of my favorite moments today come when I walk the campus. Surrounded by open skies
and mountains, I see young men rediscovering connection in its simplest forms. A groupgathered around a chessboard. Others lifting weights side by side. Someone teaching a peer
how to play guitar. A pickup basketball game unfolding nearby. Conversations happening
without distraction.
No screens. No scrolling. Just presence.
It’s a powerful scene—especially as the sun begins to set. You can hear laughter echo across
the campus (and yes, sometimes arguments too). But even those disagreements are
meaningful. They represent real-time communication, emotional expression, and the practice of
working through conflict—skills that cannot be downloaded or simulated.
They may not be playing with plastic army men, but the principle is the same.
They are learning how to connect.
They are learning how to communicate.
They are learning how to belong.
In many ways, they are returning to something instinctive—something the natural world has
always understood. Play is not a distraction from life; it is preparation for it.
And perhaps now, more than ever, it is something worth reclaiming.
