Childhood

Where did we go so wrong along the way?

Content warning: this post contains some profanity and darker topics.

In my sketch group a fellow sketcher and friend mentioned two recent experiences in her adult life that reminded her vividly of childhood.

The first, sitting outside in the grass, she stared up toward the sky seeing the clouds roll past and the sway of the tree canopies. I, too, remember this image vividly from childhood. I remember staring up at the sky like this often and for long periods of time.

The second experience she mentioned was sitting outside on a hot summer day, closing her eyes to see the bright orange of her eyelids as the sun warmed her face.

Why do we leave so many aspects of childhood so far behind? Of course figuring out how to support ourselves, especially financially, and start supporting others, takes a lot of time, energy, and mental bandwidth. But why is childhood beaten out of us so methodically? Perhaps we’re not all taught exactly the same stories, but each of us collects a series of detrimental life lessons along the way that forces us to leave bits of ourselves behind.

In addition to societal pressure, how much of this also has to do with the invention of - dare I say it - the smartphone? With us wherever we go?

Another sketch friend mentioned going on a trip abroad accidentally leaving her phone behind. More than a full week with no phone or internet. Initially I’m sure it was terrifying. We rely heavily on it for maps, calendars, hotel confirmation codes, Airbnb door lock codes, and the expectation we could reach out to whoever we need at any time. Luckily she was with a travel-buddy who could help with navigation and check-ins. After the initial withdrawal (and unfortunate fact that she didn’t have a regular camera with her) she felt free. Able to be 100% present physically, emotionally, and mentally.

How much of our losing the goodness of childhood is simply due to societal pressures and expectations, and how much of it is modern - the addition of smartphones and the internet wherever we go? Additionally, how much of childhood are we stealing from children today who receive phones and tablets too early? How do we delay it as long as humanly possible? What can we gain?

Here’s what I’d like to bring back, or find again, from my 8-year-old self:

• A bit more sass

• Play, joy, and wonder

• Spending enormous amounts of time outside

• NO. FUCKING. PHONES.

• Drawing things, good, bad, doodles

• Making things

• Photographing things

• Spending time with friends

• Writing poems and journal entries

• Tinkering around in little shops

• Riding my bike

• Exploring on foot

• Small joys

• Writing letters

• Reading books

• Experiencing art (music, theater, film, visual arts) live, in person

• Learning new things for fun

What are some memories you have from childhood that you haven’t experienced much since?

I fondly remember playing in nature. Making forts in the backyard, playing, and getting muddy in a local stream, running around on the playground, and enjoying swimming in the local river, pool, and ocean.

When I was living abroad in my early 20s, my grandfather passed away suddenly. More specifically, he committed suicide. There was no note but he had long been an alcoholic and was then suffering the early stages of dementia. It was a very difficult time emotionally and in my grief I wrote a poem for him when I heard of his passing. I have many many fond memories with him... especially fishing together in a woodsy pond, playing board games and yard games, and going on an annual family vacation to Florida. I remember him always smiling and laughing. One particular time on the beach we drew huge footprints in the sand with sticks, pretending a giant was roaming the vicinity. We walked up and down collecting seashells, too. The sun sank into the ocean, the sky changed color, the joy continued. We had nothing we had to do and nowhere we needed to be.

These days I have everywhere I have to be, and everything I have to do. I’ve been warned that rushing my children will turn them into anxious adults. (Though that can’t be the only thing. My mom never rushed me anywhere but I’m the most anxious adult I know…) I want to balance offering them new opportunities, while also offering them freedom - unscheduled time to do nothing, be bored, or come up with something new.

I don’t have any answers, just lots of questions. I figure if I ask enough questions, the answers will find me somehow.

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The poem for Grandpa Frank:

The Perfect Day

I remember the waves swept up the shore
The giant footprints we carved into the sand were slowly swept away by the salty sea
We created him
The giant who left his prints along the beach
“Look out for the giant!” we told passers-by
They smiled

Your passion
Imagination

I was but a child
Yet I still remember
It was the perfect day

You were as great as the giant
But unlike he, your prints will not fade away
Cannot fade with time
You will live in my heart forever
And in the hearts of others

Passed on to the next generation
Your memory will be shared with the world

I will never forget you
Although there are many tears and regrets
I know you’ve taught me well
And I should have told you every day

I love you
I miss you

-Lana

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P.S. I did say this blog would be a place for taking life a tad less seriously. I suppose what I meant there is that it can still be a place to explore emotions, even sad ones, but not necessarily a place where I want to feel the need to be overly buttoned-up or curated.

P.P.S. There are adjustments I’d make to the poem now, looking at it again 15 or so years later, but I’ve written it here as it was written originally. It feels best to leave it.

All photos and images © LK.