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| Me, on the lower left of the pic, back in the '60s |
When we're growing up, I have the distinct impression that we're not fully aware of the different phases we pass through at the time, and it's only when we look back years later that we can distinguish between them. Sure, we know when we move from primary school to secondary, when we need larger clothes or shoes, etc., but any differences in our outlook, changes in taste as to what entertains or interests us, how we view our environs and the like, are less obvious to us. Until, as I said, when we review our lives in retrospect and from a distance.
Perhaps I should clarify. I was, of course, aware that going from short trousers to long, or moving to secondary school from primary, were significant in some way, but what I mean is that I didn't feel any different as a teenager to how I felt as a child. Any change in my perceptions as to how I saw the world around me - or myself - (if indeed there was any change - must've been, surely?) were not at the forefront of my conscious mind. Therefore, it wasn't until many years later that the realisation dawned on me that the period of my childhood transpired in four different domiciles prior to the one in which I now live (and have lived for 46 years out of the last 50).
This, I freely admit, nowadays bothers me somewhat. Whereas at the time I felt like the same individual on my first day in my new house as I did on the last day of my old, I now seem to regard my time in the two residences (and the ones before that) as being separated by a huge gulf, each period belonging in its own 'compartment' of the mind and feeling like the equivalent of, in movie terms, a jump-cut rather than a fade out or fade in. I've used the analogy before of life (as we live it) seeming like one long single strand of unravelling string, as opposed to separate links of a chain when we look back on it retrospectively, and I can't think of a better way to indicate how things yet appear to me now.
In memory, time has a way of separating some incidents, items, people, places, into unassembled component pieces, where once they were all part of the one single instrument which defined us as the seemingly unique individuals we are. Truth be told, I'd already started to leave my childhood behind during the last couple of years in my former residence, but I was unconscious of the fact at the time. The surrounding environs were no longer my playground; no more 'best man fall', climbing trees, dressing up as Batman, or using a hankie as a makeshift parachute on my Action Man and throwing him up into the air in the adjoining playfield, then watching him descend to the ground.
I had already moved beyond such simple pleasures, but wasn't really aware of how I was 'evolving' in terms of what pastimes I was abandoning and what new ones were calling for my attention. That precise realisation didn't introduce itself until decades after the fact. During my early years in our new house, my memories of childhood still felt recent and were readily accessible, but as the decades unfolded, they began to feel like long ago and belonging almost to another dimension, far beyond my reach, except when assisted by old photographs or replacement toys and comics bought as an adult.
So now, today, and for the last few years, the fact that the duration of my childhood doesn't really 'belong' in my present home is something which discomfits me. My childhood belongs elsewhere, but I could never leave here without feeling I'd abandoned the place of (most of) my teenage and early adult years, and that would likewise fill me with a sense of loss. Anyone else feel as I do, even remotely and with far less angst, or am I trapped in a world I never made? (Yeah, that doesn't really make much sense, but I had to get a comics allusion in there somewhere to try and introduce a bit of levity.)
Anyway, if the above abstract nonsense strikes a chord with anyone, feel free to comment in the - ah, what's it called again? (Incidentally, I couldn't think of a picture with which to illustrate this post - I'll maybe add one later.) [Now done.]
******
Update: I caught part of an episode of New Tricks recently (part two of The Rock), and heard a character say something like (and I'm paraphrasing, but I've captured the essence of it) "No one knows when their childhood ends, they just wake up one day and realise it died years ago." It took me a whole post to try and say pretty much the same thing, whereas the writer of that episode said it in one sentence. Jealous? Me?
22 comments:
Reading this blog post brought back a memory of Fourth Year at my Secondary Modern School in 1962's London.
We were assigned a book list which included a memoir written by a woman in her eighties which vividly recalled her childhood in Victorian times. I do not remember the title or author but It was written and painted a vivid picture.
In the sixties London still had many locations that were pretty much unchanged visually from Victorian times so it was easy to drop back into a time long before we were born.
I do remember that my book report panned the author for this rediculous recollection as at age 15 it seemed unlikely that any one could remember the past that clearly.
As I now approach age 75 I do indeed remember certain events form my childhood as clearly as if they happened just yesterday and that is not prompted by still living near the locations where they happened. In 1974 I moved to NYC and it's now over 20 years since my parents moved from the home where I grew up.
As you mention Kid, certain events like changing school, upgrading to long trousers are clear, even ending the use of Brylcreem which was a major personal decision at the time is clear.
Going to art school and learning to drive certainly were the major changes in the dynamics of life as was working during summer vacations to earn money. Living at home with my parents, paying some rent towards my upkeep was a small transition as indeed were my first jobs after college. It was meeting an American woman at a cousin's birthday party that was the major catalyst and a few years later were were married and in NYC.
On their last visit to NYC by my parents in 1996 to visit us and our daughter my father, who was a born Londoner and lived there all his life said on looking at his family with NYC as a backdrop, "Life is just like a dream."
At this point I think I agree with him. Events just drift together and overlap in memory. Some things stand out, especially in my case visual things like the first time seeing certain drawings in comics but on reflection events just blend together with the randomness of a dream.
So Ball of String or Separated Chain? A bit of both, depending on what one focuses memory on!
Great comment, T47. I'll wait to see if there's any others before replying more fully to yours.
I think It is absolutely true that memories of our younger years become much more into focus and with greater clarity as we get older. When I was a teenager I remember my Dad (b 1906) and my grandmother comment how amazing it was that they could remember their childhood so clearly; we must all be biologically programmed to access these old memories as we age. Or perhaps it is a process where our subconscious spends time rummaging through the old drawers of memory and pulling something out and saying "Hey! I remember this!"
I’ve been spending a lot of time scanning old photos and slides, tagging them with geo location and date/time data, and loading them to Apple photos. Then adding in photos of toys I remember receiving at birthdays and Xmas, similarly date tagged, along with key comics I bought. And it starts to build a mosaic of the interests I had - when I ceased collecting Dinky Toys and started collecting comics, for example. And so in hindsight, like you, I can now see turning points that were not visible at the time, or had no meaning at the time. Perhaps they only have meaning to me now.
Having moved to the US from the UK many years ago, I long ago left my childhood home and neighbourhood behind. I did revisit my childhood home (from birth to age 15) a few years back; the people were kind enough to invite me in a show me around the entire house. It was quite comforting to see that the place survived and thrived , seemed a happy family home. It powerfully brought back to me the presence of my parents and paternal grandmother from the 1960s, but I had no yearning to buy the house; seeing it cared for was enough.
I do think that living an ocean away from where I grew up might contribute to giving a different perspective. I’m not sure that if I still lived in Southsea that the memories of childhood would have so much clarity, as the contrast between my present life and childhood would be missing.
I do think that the fact that all of my close family growing up have passed on makes me more nostalgic. And I think this is much more a male thing; Mrs B has no time for such nostalgic nonsense!
I do think this is an interesting subject to ponder, Kid, but there are no real answers. I think that in the end, life is to be lived, not spent trying to recapture the past (of which I do far too much!).
Another great comment, B. I'll respond more fully to you and T47 when my energy levels have climbed a little. Anyone else got anything interesting to add?
Not a lot I can add to Terranova47 and baggesy’s excellent comments.
I certainly agree that nostalgia (more than actual memory) is easier viewed as we get older simply as you can really only fully assess a life change after it occurs from childhood to teenager to young adulthood to adult and onto decerped old git etc . However, I do remember certain “mini growing up” stages at the time they occurred (or certainly not long afterwards). I remember around 1970/71 at 11 years old losing interest in UK comics - I can still remember picking up a copy of Lion comic after school and thinking it was childish and asking my dad not to buy me anymore UK comics (which he did on a Saturday morning) - Of course I swapped these for US comics 😊 – I also remember the same time I got bored with toys (Christmas 1971) when looking through the annual Christmas catalogue (Kays, Littlewoods) as I was more interested in music and clothes rather than the toys pages (there may have been some other pages that attracted my attention at this time! lol).
As far as houses go I spent almost all of my primary school years in one house and left that just as I was moving into secondary school so I do associate that house totally with my primary school childhood. But after that (4 other family houses not including my own homes) my memories are pretty mixed as those years encompassed my teenage years, young adulthood, adulthood and my current dotage. So I don’t associated any of these homes with a particular continued run of my life (the memories get mixed up). So for me it is a bit of a mix of a “ball of string” (my primary years) and a separated chain (pretty much everything after that to this day).
Hope your feeling better soon.
Three good comments in a row. I'll respond more fully soon (hopefully), McS.
I definitely think of life as links on a chain rather than a continuous ball of string but in my case it's periods. I divide my life into six distinct periods (or seven if you count the 9 months before birth) and I'm now living in the final period which began at the moment of my mother's death in 2009 and will end with my own death whether that be tomorrow or 20 years hence.
T47, B, McS, & CJ: I think I was aware of changes around me at the time, but what I was unaware of was the way in which I was changing in reaction to them. It feels to me now that I always felt like the same kind of person throughout all of life's changes, and there was no significant difference between the child me or the teenage me, or even the young adult me. If I ever felt differently throughout the different phases of my life, I don't remember when I think back. And, as I said, at the time, one phase of my life seemed to seamlessly fade into another, yet when I look back from this distance, my memories of events, etc., seem to exist in their own separate compartments. Apologies for repeating myself, but my brain is befogged at the moment and I can't keep track of my thoughts or whether I said what I meant to say. I'd like to thank you all again for the thoughtful, well-considered comments, and I'm grateful you took the time and trouble to submit them.
I should perhaps reiterate that I'm not actually 'ill' as such (not got COVID or anything), it's just that I'm tired all the time and have little energy. I also find gathering my thoughts and conveying them clearly a little difficult - a result of a congenital condition which leaves me fatigued, and advancing old age I suspect.
On reflection I was always me. Anyone who knew me as a youngster would know me know as unchanged.
I still have the same preferences in reading material, SF or historical. I have the same tastes in poetry. I enjoy the same kinds of movies and TV shows.
I have always enjoyed art and especially the early influences in comics that helped visualise good writing.
I have the same tastes in music and no time whatsoever for organised sports. Don't play them, don't watch them.
I still dislike the hypocracy of politicians, my parents read me the Vicky political cartoons in the Daily Mirror back in the 50's.
Batman amongst others instilled the idea of justice in life, which I'm pleased to say I passed on to my daughter. She is an attorney specialising in the rights of people in the workplace.
So as I grew older there were the landmark points, changing schools, leaving school, earning a living, in my case changing countries when I was married, becoming a parent, becoming a grandparent. And at the end of it I am the same person I was when 12 years old, with pretty much the same values and opinions.
Either I'm thick as a plank, or indeed we don't change. We form who we are at a young age and then simply face the inevitable changes that come our way in life.
As Baggsey said, it's a male thing to be nostalgic for our childhood. Women are more practical, men just want to put responsibility aside a revel in the past where responsibility wasn't ours, but our parents.
I think people are like houses, T47. As they grow up, they may keep the same basic structure in regard to their tastes and hobbies, etc., but they add little extensions over time and become more than what they were. The core of them is the same, but with something extra added on. Which might sound like I'm contradicting the original thoughts of my post, but I think, paradoxically, there's room for both points of view. Humans are nothing if not complex, eh?
On your other point; not all men are the same, nor are all women. I don't believe as a general principle that women are more practical and don't bother about nostalgia. Otherwise, who's buying all those Barbie and Sindy collectables? It ain't me!
The house analogy is a good one. Regarding interests changing we ( weĺl me) still like comics for instance, but we don't have that urge/ interest for new comics that we once had in our youth, so that's changed in us. Ditto music ( for many) etc. Film may be the one area most of us still follow new material on.
Politics, I think many folk as they age move their views if not their allegiance.
Women certainly like nostalgia I'm presently buying scraps, the Jackie, old sweets (new versions of old stuff), girls comics, old LPs etc for a woman's 60th birthday based on her likes as a kid. She will get a new present also this is for a nostalgia basket
Yeah, we change a bit, though almost imperceptibly as it happens - and it's not until we look back years later that we even notice. Odd, eh?
Happy Birthday to the lucky woman, McS. Is that your girlfriend?
No it's her sister Kid. I actually found a tin of Cremola foam made by a new company,!
It's been a few years since I tasted that. A blast from the past indeed.
Hey Kid - I’m about to do a “Robson” and move back to a house I previously lived in! Not any old house either - it’s my childhood home. It hasn’t been on the market for 25 years but my daughter spotted it and I went with my wife to take a look. Although it’s 47 years since we left (and not in the best way as my parents ran out of money and had to downsize), everything was the way I remembered it. It’s like a house template that everything else has been compared against. This one is the original and the best. I’m moving in on my 57th Birthday but sadly my parents and brother will only be there in spirit. Still time moves on and this time I’m Dad.
That's absolutely brilliant news, CN. Read my post 'A Wolfe In Past's Clothing...?' and keep me informed of what it's like to be back there over the coming months and years if you'd be so good.
I certainly will Kid. I’ve just spent the past week sorting through the family archive and found a photo of me aged about 6 right in front of the front door. I’m going to get another done so I can get them framed side by side. My daughter, Holly, says I’ll have to kneel! Lol
Kneeling, with a pair of shoes on your knees for comic effect. As well as your old memories of that house, you'll soon be adding new ones. Will you miss your current house at all, or any that preceded it after flitting from the one you're moving back to? Happy Birthday when it comes.
The house we moved to when I was 10 was my parents’ supposed temporary retreat north of the railway until we financially regrouped. It ended up being 45 years and saw both of them out. I was there for 30 of them, so spent the bulk of my life there but funnily I don’t miss it. It’s always been the original home I’m moving to that I missed. My late brother loved the original too. He told me at the hospice that his years there were the best of his life - but he was only 8 when we left so it saddened me that his favourite years were behind him so early on. Eventually I met my wife and we set up our own home and family in the next village while my brother lived at my late parents house (the one north of the railway). I’ve got a feeling that my wife, children and I will miss our current start up home (now 15 years) when we say goodbye to it next year (there’s going to be a small overlap when we own both at the same time) but we have literally outgrown it so that will always be the reason to depart. The one we are moving to, my first 10 years, is already rekindling itself in my dreams, though currently as an empty house. My “old” family haven’t entered those dreams yet. I wonder if they will when I get the keys on the 21st…
I suspect you'll all miss your current house after a while, CN; it took me around 17 or 18 years to start missing the house we moved from to flit back here, but I think back on it fondly now though I couldn't wait to vacate it at the time. Great to hear your old bench is still there. You might enjoy my post 'A True Account Of Time Travel...' if you haven't read it already.
Separated chain all the way. In some cases, I'm not sure how often even strong memories are not "edited" versions of the original experiences, reduced to their essentials. I did have one really unquestioned surge of memory, though. Some friend gave me a copy of a fifties TV cartoon of which I'd never heard, COLONEL BLEEP. I didn't consciously think I'd ever seen it before-- but each cartoon started out with a rocket countdown. The moment I heard that countdown, I clearly remembered sitting in front of the TV counting down with the TV announcer.
Just took a quick look on YouTube, GP, and there it was. Don't think I've even heard of this cartoon before, so it might never have been broadcast in the UK. (Anyone know?) Unless, like you, I've simply forgotten.
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