Sigh

[greatbear]

Today started off as one of productivity. I got a call from one of my best friends today and ended up helping him move a bunch of his mom's things to his sister's place. His mom is not doing good, and has been in the hospital (several, actually) for a few months now. Even physicians at John's Hopkins have been unable to pin down exactly what is wrong. Anyhow, she has shown signs of improvement, and the move today was to take her from the house where she lives alone to one where there are other people able to keep an eye on her. It's hoped that she can get out of the hospital and into a more comfortable, familiar place where she can relax, and, to be truthful, live out her last days.

This noble effort with the move today put me in a funk by the time I got home, and any productivity I showed at the start of the day had evaporated. His mom and dad (who died a few years ago) treated me like family, his dad and I worked on cars and other projects a lot over the decades, and my mom liked visiting as well. Today marked an end of another chapter in my life as a result, as a familiar place with a familiar set of faces is altered forever. My childhood homes no longer exist (this is going to one day be an entry of it's own), any ties I've to the past are slowly vanishing. This is another biggie that adds to it. I know it's part of growing up and growing old, but when one's world starting from childhood is relatively small, every subtraction removes a greater part of the sum.

I know that I carry my past and my upbringing with me every day wherever I go, but it's nice to take peeks back in time now and then, see the physical places and socialize with the people from that past. The 'small world' that I have lived in will slowly be relegated to memories and photographs as it tapers away. I just hope that the world I find in my future has at least some of the richness of that I leave behind.

Comments

[thetarnishedowl.livejournal.com]

I've found that, when I've had the chance to physically visit a place I haven't been to in a very long time, that it's a strangely disappointing experience. First, my memory is flawed, so even if the physical place was exactly as it used to be, it wouldn't match my memory. Add to that, the physical place itself has changed over time, and it's occupied by nearly all new people - not the people I remember. So even though the physical place still exists and can be visited, what I remember is in reality - gone. Even though it's not. This is all to say: it's all memories.

[greatbearmd.livejournal.com]

With me, it's often a mixed bag. I have an unusually keen memory that goes way back. On the occasional sleepless night or boring day at work I will 'channel surf' my memories for nostalgia's sake. Sounds odd, I know. But there is so much of my past that is just plain gone, or I have no access to. I was born at Fort Meade, and spent most of my time there until I was about 18. I knew the place like the back of my hand. Later on in life I would drive around for the heck of it to see what changed. In recent years, with base closings and realignment, a lot of the old repurposed barracks were torn down and many of the admin buildings condensed. Then after 9-11 it was closed to the general public. Bummer.

Most of my schools are still intact, though the elementary school has been an office building for at least 30 years now. The surrounding neighborhood in some cases is completely unrecognizable. Looking through old photos I have not seen in dozens of years is often surprising, as I had practically forgotten some things, but the instant I was 'refreshed' a lot of related things came back. My memory is mostly what I have, and I exercise it often. If I ever lose it, I dont know how I'd react.

[ciddyguy.livejournal.com]

I know how you feel. I just found out last night or this morning that my childhood elementary school is now torn down as they are building a new one to replace it due to the fact that they outgrew the old space. So now where the old school once sat will be the new field and playground, the old field is where the new building is located.

2 family friends we've known since the early 70's have since moved from homes they bought/built at the time and I used to spend many a summer evening at one of them as they had a pool, the other I'd spend even more time as their youngest son is my best friend. We are still friends with both, although one family, the hubby is now a remarried widow, the other are still married and the wife is now dealing with alzheimers, which is another element of my childhood that's not the same.

There will be times when I yearn for my past, but for the most part, they are a part of me and how I became to be as an adult so I can't sit here and think, what if? Life moves on.

But the big thing is I still think of my past, the old 'hood, the house I grew up in etc and the fun I had growing up that many kids today aren't able to. If anything, I have a connection to the past as that's one of my strengths.

Again, I feel for ya Phil.

[greatbearmd.livejournal.com]

THe past forms what we are today, and I guess I am at that time in my life where I must feel some compulsion to try and reconnect with it, or more to the point, see how it's doing. Not too well, actually. But, I do find a bit of comfort in knowing I outlived a lot of my past. I can see the 50 year milestone, an age I always thought of as 'old', and it's less than 4 years away. It's a long time, and I guess part of the dissolution of my childhood homes and other spots is due to the constant 'progress' in this area. It's got it's good points and bad, I guess. Seeing those old PA coal mining town where Jeff is from and the fact that so little has changed there can be looked at as a kind of stagnation in some ways, but a lot of it also has to do with people's respect for the past. Those old houses have character, and they stand for a hundred years or more. The area is not rich with money, but more tradition. There are tradeoffs. I suppose it's better to move forward in many ways than to stay stuck in the past. But, the past does have it's value as well.

[ciddyguy.livejournal.com]

What you are saying is indeed true. I can't look at my childhood home the same way as it's now a different color, the trees are gone and the shutters are now missing and the house just looks rather plain (early to mid 60's era split entry), let alone what's been, or not been done inside since we moved out in 1985. Some things like the upstairs carpeting were done in the mid 70's, everything else around the very early 80's (downstairs carpeting and kitchen stove and oven primarily).

The entire community has gone through a large transformation since then and instead of just being a part of the overal county Gov't, it's a city in it's own right these days and yes, my Mom lives back here now but still, it's not the same community.

[xianjessen.livejournal.com]

This post resonates with me.

As I move around San Francisco I am acutely aware of the changes around me, specifically the touch stones of my past that have disappeared. It is not helped by my vivid memory of things. Sometimes it almost seems that every corner holds some sort of ghost of a different time. It all seems so long ago and like it all just happened yesterday.

I am also am haunted by how my mother's universe shrank as she got older, specifically as she lost more and more family and friends that remembered her in her youth and shared the same historical perspective.

It can be overwhelming.

Finding the richness in the world you find in the future? I think it is possible, but I think it will require an effort.

[greatbearmd.livejournal.com]

A vivid memory like you and I have is a good thing, but it can be a bit of a curse as well. I dont want to give it up for anything though.

My Mom's world shrank in many ways after she retired. She lost touch with friends, kept more to herself around the house, and to me always seemed to have missed out on that certain kind of love after being divorced and never remarried, and really not dating much either.

But, Mom made herself a promise to see the world after she retired, and she did so in spades. China, Russia, most of Europe, Hong Kong, her birthplace of Kiev, etc. She traveled well and saw things that most people never would see, and I encouraged it as often as possible. She took many cruises, saw countless concert and operas and shows. She was always excited about going, and had lots of stories upon returning. She had a small circle of good, consistent friends, and was content tooling around in the gardens at home more than anything else. So, there is two perspectives at play here. The time of her death was when she was to be on a music cruise on the Baltic Sea. She never stopped, until the very end, and she did everything on her own terms.

I only wish I could have similar experiences and a richness of life like she had. It does take an effort, yes. And the rewards are there. The future with the economy, world politics and the climate is more uncertain for me than ever, and that unfortunately will play a part as well. But I dont plan on it ruining it for me either, if I have any say in the matter.

[geometrician.livejournal.com]

Beautifully written, and emotive.

Sometimes there isn't a particular thing going wrong with a person, other than it is the end of their life. May you, your friend, and his family, and especially his mother, have peace with this time.

A few weeks ago I spent some time Google-mapping my old neighborhood in Wheaton/Kensington/Rockville/NW. While the layout of the roads is the same (and enough to pull those strings of nostalgia), so much has changed there that it isn't even the same world, really.

In retrospect, I'm not sure I ever felt safe there... isn't that odd? I just thought of that.

[greatbearmd.livejournal.com]

Well, looking at my entries of late, I am almost drowning in emo by the looks of things. lol

I will say that I felt safer as a whole back in my old stomping ground than I do now. The world situation and all the turmoil and scare plays the big part in that though.

[knarfd.livejournal.com]

I want to hear about the end of these childhood homes of yours and look foward to reading this. Lately all I do is think about my childhood neighborhood. Odd.

[greatbearmd.livejournal.com]

We must be at that age where we yearn for the past. So much is different these days. But not everything, and what looks different on the surface is often the same old thing, repackaged.

I took a drive back to where the old places were, and it was so odd. It seemed so small. Some of the bushes mom and I planted are still there. I wish I had my camera. I want to make a little trip back just for the pictures. Once I do, and after I find some good photos to scan, I'll do that post.