“I Grew Up in Essex…”
Mortality is our shadow… so I paused and watched today’s sunrise and remembered being asked where I came from while being active on an internet forum way back when.
I answered the question with a poem. Today, well, is a different time, different life – so a new poem began to whisper behind my eyes. Comes a point where “home” is a life’s time away. And for some (and me) home is more than a mere place to be from. Home was/is more than a where, more than a perception, more than a concept… It’s a moment in time that encapsulates OUR everything – everything that makes and forms us into the person we are, the beliefs we hold, the ‘tudes we exude, the dreams we expound, the hopes we cherish, the very reasons we existed to become what we ARE …people. I remember so many, many physical addresses – so many NOW different perceptions of places where we “paused” – all before being 18, let alone all the ones since that then. I reference “Essex” – as an AREA, an “agezone” prior to my becoming 18. not a specific single address.
“I Grew Up In Essex…”
I remember:
My world view valued individuals and life.
My “vision” held hope and empowered dreams.
We, as a broken family, lived as best we could,
as we could,
as ONLY we could – then,
and I “stood” – both real and thoughtfully –
for what I selfishly believed
were the concepts that really mattered
– to me (and subsequently us as a family, and
then as a people.
Newspapers had a “World” section
(kids passed by) and a National Section
(ignored as well).
Mainly actual news coverage was Local,
of interest to us as the select few that were
impacted by revelations and witnessed events.
Sports (at all levels) were deeply followed because
they had the cachet –
that special “something” that held
bigger-than-life moments
of those selected as our heroes –
those we could emulate,
to become.
Religion was the province and purview
of parents and ELDERS!
It was mysterious – Catholicism – a strange language,
different aspects, rules, buildings,
people and dress.
And the other religions –
We and they didn’t speak with – just about.
Nothing inter-meshed, nor was shared,
different rules – views, biases.
A lot of angers.
Poor was a stigma
hurtful and unforgivable.
Housing – tenement and projects.
Hungry was NOT a choice –
It was a way of life.
No social nets, very few
Gov’t programs.
We worked as we could,
where we could,
and whenever we could.
Define rough… then live it.
I knew my neighbors,
had friends – beyond just schoolmates.
I wandered BECAUSE I could –
miles and miles – no fear.
Stores were fun places,
movies (theaters) were kid-friendly.
There were way more ice cream trucks
and produce wagons.
To this day – God took everything and
everyone else but not my feet …
though I’m sure He’s laughing NOW
and so am I.
We survived –
public and catholic schools –
even a seminary,
both war and peace.
We helped others… still do.
We grew… some had families
some worked, some started things.
We were doers.
We stood. We meant. We had and have pride.
We had dreams and reached for them
(and always will).
And now… I don’t know nor understand
others’ dreams. The frustration and angers are palpable.
People feel and act entitled.
Religion is ignored. People live in fear.
Life is about …me’s.
Many help, but many also don’t.
We don’t have the faith nor guts –
to stand up, to speak out, to do.
So many don’t even whisper their “opinions”.
And we don’t question –
most follow
sigh…
I miss “Essex” – can you tell?
Chris
(C) Chris Twyford 2023
