Do You Miss Your Childhood?

I was outside shoveling the ten inches of snow that fell yesterday and my 7-year-old was helping. We get most of it done and he started playing in the now big mountain of snow we have in our backyard, because we have nowhere else to put it from the alley. Curiously, despite the fact that the snow is even with the top of the hurricane fence in the back, our Dalmatian never jumps over. Heck, he could just walk over. But he does stand on that mound and bark at anyone in the alley. I sure it scares the crap out of them seeing this large, seemingly ferocious, dog barking at them from a position where he could just leap off and grip their throats.

I laugh at their fear. Is that wrong of me?

Anyway, back to Kurt. He was on that big mountain of snow starting to play and he says, “Daddy, do you miss your childhood?”

“What?” I wanted to make sure I’d heard right. That seemed a rather philosophical question for someone whose main concern always seems to be “Where’s my blankie?”

“Do you miss your childhood?” He asked again.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” I said. I didn’t have to think about it. The answer was immediate. I miss childhood. I miss innocence. I miss not having responsibilities. I miss the biggest question in my life being, “Should I watch Scooby Do, or Superfriends?”

Overall, I think I had a good childhood. Aside from that, I think I grew up in interesting times.

I grew up at the beginning of the space age. Alan Shepard was the first American in space. John Glenn was the first American to orbit the earth. Granted, I’m ignoring the fact that the Soviet Union was winning the space race. They were the first in space with a satellite, the first in space with a person, the first to orbit the earth, and the first to do a space walk. But America was the one that achieved the event of a lifetime, Man’s crowning achievement to date, the moon landing. “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” was a phrase that resonated with every child in America. We all wanted to be Neil Armstrong.

Transistors were just making their way into electronics and the miniaturization of things was on the way. A tube radio that used to weigh 50 pounds and was about the size of a breadbox (if you don’t know what that is, go Google image it) was transformed into a transistor radio about the size of a paperback book.

I certainly miss my childhood friends. Jimmy Krieger. Scott Rotter. Strangely enough, Scott had called about ten years ago and we had a long talk, but ultimately, I guess without thinking about it, I blew him off. We only had that one conversation and now I think I should have stayed in contact, but I was less missing my past at 40 than I am at 50.

We were all involved in Scouting together. We hung out everywhere together. Played catch at Sherman Park. Climbed trees. Had sleep-overs. All the things kids do and I miss.

I even miss the girls from grade school. I had a crush on several. Sarah, who I’m embarrassed to admit I can’t remember her last name. Cheryl Sailor. The twins, Laura and Lisa.

And to me, pop culture was at its peak then even though everything was in its infancy. Television had great shows with Lost in Space, Wild, Wild West, Combat!, Mission: Impossible, Star Trek, Rat Patrol, Time Tunnel, Adamms Family, Outer Limits, Jonny Quest, Scooby Do, and well, the list of wonderful shows is endless.

In music we had the first British Invasion with the Beatles, Stones, Kinks, The Byrds, the Yardbirds, and The Who. There was Paul Revere and the Raiders. Herman’s Hermits. Beach Boys. The Troggs. And all the great acts of Motown.

It was the Silver Age of comics as I’ve discussed before, with the great Marvel heroes of Spider-man, Fantastic Four, The Hulk, Iron Man and more. But it was also the resurgence of exciting literature from the 20s, 30s, and 40s with reprints of Conan the Barbarian by Robert E. Howard as edited by Lin Carter and L. Sprague de Campe. All of Edgar Rice Burroughs stuff was being reprinted. All the old pulp fiction heroes like, The Shadow, The Avenger, Doc Savage, The Spider and so on were in reprint.

All that has sadly gone away. Will there be another reprint resurgence of pulps and sword and sorcery in the future? I hope so. It certainly was exciting to be there as they were being published. Waiting for each new book to come out was as thrilling as getting the latest issue of Captain America.

And of course there were the new sword and sorcery writers like Michael Moorcock, Fritz Leiber, John Jakes, Jack Vance, and Lin Carter.

So yes, it wasn’t hard for me to answer his question, “Do you miss your childhood?” I think, as probably everyone thinks, the decade of your childhood is the best one ever.

Then, my paternal nature started to reflect on his comment. Now I don’t remember much of my dad. Yes, he was there but he wasn’t if you know what I mean. I have only a few memories of doing anything with him.

When my oldest was younger, I had an undiagnosed thyroid condition that made me an absolute bear. So when he was three or four or so, you can say I wasn’t there for him.

Combine that with the fact that I didn’t learn how to become a father, because my father most likely didn’t learn how to be a father, because his own father walked away out on his family.

So being a good father is something I struggle with everyday. When I lose my temper or yell at something they did or didn’t do or if they ask me to do something and I answer I’m too busy, I feel guilty, which makes me angry at myself.

Which is one reason I agreed to be his den leader (when they ambushed me with the idea) and why I try to attend my older son’s basketball games and band recitals. Which is why I want to try to take Brett fishing more. Or play a game of hoops with him. Or just throw a Frisbee around.

And coincidently, last night I watched Click with Adam Sandler. A movie in which Sandler’s character fast-forwards through his children’s lives. When it ended, I put my youngest, who had fallen asleep on the couch, to bed and kissed him good-night.

And I thought about his question,, “Do you miss your childhood?” and it made me come full circle and think, sure I do, but more importantly, because of my own childhood, I sure as hell don’t want to miss my own kids’ childhoods.

(And please, don’t ever play Cats in the Cradle around me. That really makes me maudlin.)

-30-

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10 thoughts on “Do You Miss Your Childhood?

  1. Aww! You know, I was just thinking along similar lines this weekend, for unknown reasons. I was thinking about how I miss those heady times of no responsibilities – how the most important question was which I wanted to do more – go fishing or camping. And the way we could play using just our imaginations, maybe a toy or two, or a model car and a big pile of dirt – how that could keep us happy for hours.

    I had those GI Joe type figures, they weren’t army but cowboys, and you could pop their heads off. I attribute my writing now to hours and hours of imaginary play with those figures. And how I could turn any forest into a grand adventure on an alien planet. Or make a simple game of hide and go seek into infiltrating an enemy camp to steal the plans, when they’re on to me and hunting me down.

    I think the fact that we can still appreciate those times, that we can still recall how we turned simple dirt piles into “cliffs of danger”, means we’re still in touch. I think either being writers gives us that ability, or that ability makes us writers. I’m not sure which came first. But it’s a subject I could go on about for days. 🙂

    And I also think that simply by being aware of your relationship with your sons, and how your childhood might affect that, is what’s going to prevent you from missing their childhoods. Being aware of something is the biggest step toward preventing it.

  2. Yes, I had GI Joes, and the smaller plastic army men, and Lincoln logs and we’d make forts and have battles to rival any that happened in real life.

    And I had Major Matt Mason figures, these were astronauts and came with a whole assortment of accessories, like a space station, a moon walker, and so on.

    And strangely, I had a giant (compared to the action figures) red stuffed donkey named Dinky and he was their companion, despite the size difference. He often fought off the other large monsters that would attack.

    My youngest has Lincoln Logs and I think I need to sit down with him and build some forts.

  3. Now I’m all nostalgic and philosophical. Thanks, Ed. I didn’t have the best childhood, but there are things I sorely miss. Summers topping the list – lying on the grass for hours and hours, the blades tickling my bare shoulders, just staring at the clouds. Riding my bike down the *big* hill, the wind whipping around my face and into my ears… no obligations, no clue that we were poor as hell. I miss the Legos and Barbies. We’d spend hours – days, really, from the minute we got up to the minute we went to bed – playing Barbies in the yard. Matchbox cars… we’d use plastic spoons to carve intricate towns out of the dirt in the driveway.

    Now it’s video games and a plethora of electronic stuff. I wonder what memories my kid will have when he’s my age. What will he miss?

  4. My kids have their video games, but they also have Legos and Lincoln Logs. They do use their imaginations instead of letting something else use their imagination for them. Right now, I have our tent set up in the basement (it’ll -10°F tonight, so that’s why it isn’t outside) and they’ve been playing pretend in that for the past week.

  5. I miss being innocent and carefree. Seems like my adulthood has been plagued with problems and anxiety. All I can think of lately is escaping to some tropical island to get away from it all.

  6. I went to my grandparents home yesterday, just a driveby, as they are past now one 15 yrs, the other 6 yrs. So they are gone, but the memories are not. I was afraid to go there, afraid of what I would see, afraid it would be gone. It was still there, the house only,with a family in it. They didnt do much to fix it up so basically it looked the same but old and broken.
    I spend my whole childhood there, in the woods, riding horses, being a country girl ( I lived in the city ) this was our getaway, Grandma & Grandpa’s house. I want it back, so badly.
    When I drove down the road of their house, the car barely did 2miles an hour, I was so afraid of what I would see beyond the tree’s. This was the first time in 6 years I went back there.
    The summer’s were phenonomal. Running around barefoot ALL the time, shoe’s what were they? at night, catching the lightning bugs, putting them in the glass coffee jars, or mayo jars, knowing FULL well they would be dead in the morn, but you HAD to have them, take them into the bedroom with you at night, watch them barely light up the room.
    I want it back… all of it, every last bit, the good times, the bad times (which were far and few in between). I loved being there, I could smell her house, cooking bacon every morn for my grandfather, my sis and me…crispy for her, rubbery for me… she knew just how to do it.
    I want it back, all of it, every day again.
    On the way home, i stopped by the cemetary (hadnt been there in years) I told them I still LOVE THEM and wish to hell it was all back again.
    My daughter (who I named after my Grandma) was with me, my 13year old. She couldnt understand why I was so upset, why I clung to a tree and cried like a baby hyperventalating, and she never will, unfortuntely. Her childhood is nothing like that.
    All I can say is, I want it back… every bit of it..!!!

    Thanks for listening..

  7. Before I was subjected to politics. Back when people could be friends with anyone, regardless of socioeconomic status. Back when a two-hour car trip felt like an eternity.

    Being an adult sucks. Plain and simple. It all revolves around money.

  8. Very nice post. I just stumbled upon your blog and wanted to say that I’ve truly enjoyed surfing around your blog posts. In any case I’ll be subscribing to your feed
    and I hope you write again very soon!

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