Approaching Easter has reawakened certain memories for me... yes, of coloring eggs, and looking for hidden baskets of candies and little toys and things, of the crinkly cellophane grass they used to use, of the smell of jelly beans and chocolate, and flowers in bloom... and shopping for those special Easter clothes, including the little bonnet I would wear with my new white gloves...
At two and a half years old, I had no such memories yet.
I remember feeling the closeness to my parents: the love, the way they looked and smelled and spoke and all those things that we ignore or take for granted as we get older... but when my younger brother was born I underwent some kind of crisis for the time my mother was in the hospital. With the usual routines of the day, and most especially the evening routine, with family time in the livingroom before bath and bedtime, and the stories my mother always read to us in her own special way, interrupted, I felt rather lost.
My father and grandmother were there tending to my older brother and I, although of course, Dad worked during the day. I remember being aware of my mother's pregnancy, and knew that when she returned I would have a baby brother OR sister ( There were no ultrasound devices in those days) but I felt very disoriented. Although a new baby would come into our home soon, I didn't quite know what that would be like, or how I could really prepare for it. I just felt a sence of loss that, while I knew it would soon be over, seemed to go on forever.
Dad was always very attentive when he came home, helping with supper, having us help him, being sure we got our baths, getting us laughing after supper, and sitting on the edge of the bed talking to us about whatever was on our minds and "hugging up "before we went to sleep... but of course, he was off to work soon after breakfast.
My grandmother ( his mother ) was a gentle person, humming and singing while she crocheted. She made our meals and tended us nicely enough... but she didn't always understand what I needed as my mother had... nor did she have the need to go about doing the daily things my mother did, which I watched on and off all day and here and there had a hand in. I'm sure she played with me a bit here and there, but I don't remember what we played. I do remember her sitting there sewing something by hand, and crocheting, which I enjoyed and she tried to teach me what she could about it, but one can only sit and watch Granny crochet and chat for just so long when one is less than three years old... and I didn't yet quite know how to amuse myself for lengths of time, without someone presenting the options.
I don't remember where my older brother was most of that week. I suppose he was in school most of the day. He knew bigger kids down the road, like himself, so perhaps he was visiting them too... or watching some program on TV that didn't interest me... like KING KONG !
I remember looking at the pictures in a Little Golden Book my mother had gotten for me called "THE NEW BABY" over and over again... hearing in my mind the words she had spoken to each one as she read it to me time and again in the previous few months... but the days seemed to drag on.
In those days there was no way for a small child to see a parent in the hospital or even talk with them. I could, and did, make crayon pictures for Dad to take to her. He had said he could do that... and he told me what she had told him to tell me, but I had to trust my father and Granny to know she was alright and indeed would return soon, with a baby.
Of course I trusted them, but it didn't help here and now... There was something missing... and I needed something now... something when noone else could be there or was interested in what I wanted... not that I even knew at the moment many times. I wasn't really alone, and I wasn't ignored... but I needed someone ... not some imaginary friend, but someone real ... here... now...
It felt like an eternity before my mother came home with my new baby brother. I remember my grandmother smiling, all in a flurry, as she announced that they were home! And we hustled to places on the sofa, hair combed, neatly dressed, ready to celebrate the moment as they walked in the front door that wintry day.
As my mother took her coat off , I was allowed to hold him, while my older brother anxiously awaited his turn. I remember looking at him sleeping, and then opening his eyes to look at me for the first time... thinking of things I'd learned (either by being taught, overhearing or figuring out for myself ) concerning babies, and how this one was coming to stay... before this moment actually came. I sat there awed, sensing the wonder of it all...
I don't know if it was while she was in the hospital or shortly thereafter, but I remember one Saturday morning, I overheard my father talking to the nextdoor neighbor man. Apparently he had some kind of crisis and didn't know where to turn to for help. It must have been a crisis similar to the one I had felt, of feeling rather helpless and alone and not knowing where to turn for answers, by the tone of it.
They were talking in the kitchen, just having come up from the cellar. I was in the hallway having gone to speak to him about something, but I paused... I listened but didn't understand all of what it was about. For some reason my attention was really focused on my father.
Perhaps it was the tone of his voice seeking to console this man. I don't really know why... but he began to speak of the Bible and said how, whether you're religious or not Jesus was a fine example to follow when you didn't know what to do... speaking of Jesus as though he was a friend he knew very well... It was a turning point for me...
I remember thinking that I'd found the answer to a question I couldn't even find words for, in ways that went beyond the simple conversation I was hearing. Something seemed to have had hit me on the head sending little sparkly feelings through me. I knew at that moment whose example I would learn to follow, and would be the foundation for who I am and what I do in my lifetime... and who I would turn to when I felt all scattered and lost... and would always feel the same to me... and where to find him...
If that sounds too "preachy", I don't intend it to be, it's just the way it was... and when I think about it, it still amazes me how I was so young and yet I made such a conscious, lasting decision...
( For better or for worse, depending on who is reading this, I don't belong to a church and am not a particularly " religious" person, per se, but I do enjoy a good sermon... and I do agree that no matter what you believe in, Jesus is still a good example to follow.)
*One more thing that comes to my mind when I think about this, is:
At what age does a person choose their role model, or do they just assimilate bits of this and that as they go along, having the dominant example become their role model for better or worse? Do most males tend to follow the example of the most prominent man in their lives, and do girls do the same where a woman is concerned?` If a choice is made as a child, how many are even aware of it ? I imagine there are many who don't have a particular role model to follow, but who gather bits and pieces as they go through life... but I don't really know. It's not something that would arise in every day chit chat, though perhaps some psychologist would have a volume on it.
It's just something I think about... how we never know who might me watching and listening, and deciding that you or I are the example they want to follow...
I suppose the next question might well be... WHY?
hmmmmmmmmmmmm
At two and a half years old, I had no such memories yet.
I remember feeling the closeness to my parents: the love, the way they looked and smelled and spoke and all those things that we ignore or take for granted as we get older... but when my younger brother was born I underwent some kind of crisis for the time my mother was in the hospital. With the usual routines of the day, and most especially the evening routine, with family time in the livingroom before bath and bedtime, and the stories my mother always read to us in her own special way, interrupted, I felt rather lost.
My father and grandmother were there tending to my older brother and I, although of course, Dad worked during the day. I remember being aware of my mother's pregnancy, and knew that when she returned I would have a baby brother OR sister ( There were no ultrasound devices in those days) but I felt very disoriented. Although a new baby would come into our home soon, I didn't quite know what that would be like, or how I could really prepare for it. I just felt a sence of loss that, while I knew it would soon be over, seemed to go on forever.
Dad was always very attentive when he came home, helping with supper, having us help him, being sure we got our baths, getting us laughing after supper, and sitting on the edge of the bed talking to us about whatever was on our minds and "hugging up "before we went to sleep... but of course, he was off to work soon after breakfast.
My grandmother ( his mother ) was a gentle person, humming and singing while she crocheted. She made our meals and tended us nicely enough... but she didn't always understand what I needed as my mother had... nor did she have the need to go about doing the daily things my mother did, which I watched on and off all day and here and there had a hand in. I'm sure she played with me a bit here and there, but I don't remember what we played. I do remember her sitting there sewing something by hand, and crocheting, which I enjoyed and she tried to teach me what she could about it, but one can only sit and watch Granny crochet and chat for just so long when one is less than three years old... and I didn't yet quite know how to amuse myself for lengths of time, without someone presenting the options.
I don't remember where my older brother was most of that week. I suppose he was in school most of the day. He knew bigger kids down the road, like himself, so perhaps he was visiting them too... or watching some program on TV that didn't interest me... like KING KONG !
I remember looking at the pictures in a Little Golden Book my mother had gotten for me called "THE NEW BABY" over and over again... hearing in my mind the words she had spoken to each one as she read it to me time and again in the previous few months... but the days seemed to drag on.
In those days there was no way for a small child to see a parent in the hospital or even talk with them. I could, and did, make crayon pictures for Dad to take to her. He had said he could do that... and he told me what she had told him to tell me, but I had to trust my father and Granny to know she was alright and indeed would return soon, with a baby.
Of course I trusted them, but it didn't help here and now... There was something missing... and I needed something now... something when noone else could be there or was interested in what I wanted... not that I even knew at the moment many times. I wasn't really alone, and I wasn't ignored... but I needed someone ... not some imaginary friend, but someone real ... here... now...
It felt like an eternity before my mother came home with my new baby brother. I remember my grandmother smiling, all in a flurry, as she announced that they were home! And we hustled to places on the sofa, hair combed, neatly dressed, ready to celebrate the moment as they walked in the front door that wintry day.
As my mother took her coat off , I was allowed to hold him, while my older brother anxiously awaited his turn. I remember looking at him sleeping, and then opening his eyes to look at me for the first time... thinking of things I'd learned (either by being taught, overhearing or figuring out for myself ) concerning babies, and how this one was coming to stay... before this moment actually came. I sat there awed, sensing the wonder of it all...
I don't know if it was while she was in the hospital or shortly thereafter, but I remember one Saturday morning, I overheard my father talking to the nextdoor neighbor man. Apparently he had some kind of crisis and didn't know where to turn to for help. It must have been a crisis similar to the one I had felt, of feeling rather helpless and alone and not knowing where to turn for answers, by the tone of it.
They were talking in the kitchen, just having come up from the cellar. I was in the hallway having gone to speak to him about something, but I paused... I listened but didn't understand all of what it was about. For some reason my attention was really focused on my father.
Perhaps it was the tone of his voice seeking to console this man. I don't really know why... but he began to speak of the Bible and said how, whether you're religious or not Jesus was a fine example to follow when you didn't know what to do... speaking of Jesus as though he was a friend he knew very well... It was a turning point for me...
I remember thinking that I'd found the answer to a question I couldn't even find words for, in ways that went beyond the simple conversation I was hearing. Something seemed to have had hit me on the head sending little sparkly feelings through me. I knew at that moment whose example I would learn to follow, and would be the foundation for who I am and what I do in my lifetime... and who I would turn to when I felt all scattered and lost... and would always feel the same to me... and where to find him...
If that sounds too "preachy", I don't intend it to be, it's just the way it was... and when I think about it, it still amazes me how I was so young and yet I made such a conscious, lasting decision...
( For better or for worse, depending on who is reading this, I don't belong to a church and am not a particularly " religious" person, per se, but I do enjoy a good sermon... and I do agree that no matter what you believe in, Jesus is still a good example to follow.)
*One more thing that comes to my mind when I think about this, is:
At what age does a person choose their role model, or do they just assimilate bits of this and that as they go along, having the dominant example become their role model for better or worse? Do most males tend to follow the example of the most prominent man in their lives, and do girls do the same where a woman is concerned?` If a choice is made as a child, how many are even aware of it ? I imagine there are many who don't have a particular role model to follow, but who gather bits and pieces as they go through life... but I don't really know. It's not something that would arise in every day chit chat, though perhaps some psychologist would have a volume on it.
It's just something I think about... how we never know who might me watching and listening, and deciding that you or I are the example they want to follow...
I suppose the next question might well be... WHY?
hmmmmmmmmmmmm
From what I understand, somewhere between birth and six years old, you find and adult figure who you accept as a role model. If this doesn't happen then the person will have trouble in various areas later in life, as early as late teen years. Sex of the role model is not male to male, or female to female, it is not within the same sex. Or at least this is what I have gathered from conversation with Psych majors!
ReplyDelete-Matt Patsey
* It is not necessarily within the same sex
ReplyDeleteThank you for posting that Matt. I was just re-reading things here, including your comment, and I really appreciate it. I've been thinking about that( for the past half hour ;) It would be interesting to know who got this or that person's attention before they were six, and why.... and see how it played out.... hmmmm
ReplyDelete