Childhood. Everything that is right and wrong with all of us stems from it. Of course there are exceptions and growth can be made, but when we peel back layers and layers of armor that we all wear, we invariably come to look upon these formative years as the catalyst that has shaped the person who is right now reading these words. It sure as hell shaped the person writing them.
I find the concept to be fascinating, and in all the years I spent working with adolescent kids, I tried to keep that thought front and center. No kid wakes up in the morning and decides to excel any more than a kid wakes up in the morning and decides to be an asshole. Grown ups? Totally different, but kids get a pass on both ends due to how we are all raised. I feel that the memories and experiences from an early age shape our personalities, boundaries, morals, and how we treat others.
Of course there have been volumes and volumes of books and research studies in this area of psychology, so I will stop hammering the point. It’s much more juicy to see what’s behind my curtain…..so…..my esteemed colleagues in life…..
Large and small, here are a few of mine. Why do these resonate as I am about to turn 52? Let’s see if I can find a pattern. I haven’t thought about this blog ahead of time on purpose so I can see what spills out right now, but of course, I have reflected on some of the larger ones throughout my adult life, when I think….Gee, why I did I have to say that? I’m a dick…..it’s then when I realize:
When I was a kid, my father often spoke out loud to and at the television, using no filter. He would hear a news report and announce to the room that the reporter was SPOT ON, or AN ASSHOLE. My sister and I were often in our rooms, and he was watching TV alone, but that always stuck with me. I do it too, and sometimes I do it in person which hasn’t always been a good thing.
I realized at a young age that being funny could gain me respect. I made jokes at family parties and was easily outgoing to the point where I am SURE I WAS ANNOYING. Again, my father, and his brother (my uncle) always had some kind of back and forth inside joke going. It went on for years. In my world funny equals love. If I am messing around with you, I love you. Vanessa thinks I am annoying. I still think I’m funny. Write that down.
My grandmother on my mom’s side paid for 7 years of private drum lessons because she knew it was a way she could support my musical development. She believed in me, and when I put my first drum kit in my bedroom at age 13, her and my mother would pack my closed door frame with towels so the sound was muffled for everyone in the house. Support. It was all about support. My high school rock bands ALWAYS practiced at my house. I had a finished basement AND the drum kit but I think it was also so they could provide a safe space. It worked. My love of performing for others grew out of sitting behind my drums at gigs when I was a teenager.
My grandmother on my dad’s side used to sort M&M’s and leave out a goblet of only green ones when we went to visit her because she knew that green was my favorite color. I don’t know what that means in psychology, but I still clearly see the goblet now when I close my eyes.
My 4th grade teacher let my best friend and I develop an entire newspaper for a class project. We typed each story on a real typewriter (it was 1982), photocopied pictures from books and wrote classified ads, sports, weather, and news stories of space. We called it The Daily Planet. When we were done, the teacher made copies of the whole thing, which ran 15-20 pages. She distributed them to the class, while my friend and I got to run the class and read The Daily Planet out loud with the kids. We were so stoked, we did another one for fun and called it The B.C. Times Union, which was focused on dinosaurs. I know that this teacher reads my blog, so let me thank you here Carole Green Grosberg, for my first crack at public speaking. It mattered.
My 6th grade teacher, Hank Drugan had us do an oral presentation to the class on a topic of our choice. I chose “How to Play the Snare Drum.” I did well and he pulled me aside after and told me the only comment he could write was “speak to us, not to the blackboard.” Other than that, he told me that it was fantastic. He was a hard man to please, so this did wonders for my confidence in front of others.
When my sister and I were young, Christmas was a magical time, but only after my father made us wait to tear into the loot under the tree until he could hook up 2 flood light type bulbs to the old Super 8mm home camera, which had no sound. We were then instructed to wave and “look excited” as we viewed the tree and the presents. We couldn’t look at the camera due to the attached lights having the lumens of 10,000 suns. This helped my sister and I learn patience I guess. You are all in for a treat when I find these movies (now digitized) and put them on Youtube.
I can count on one hand the amount of times I heard my parents yell at each other while I was growing up. They almost never aired any dirty laundry in front of my sister and I. I have tried to do the same as a parent.
I used to sneak into my sister’s room and put her Barbie dolls in compromising positions. She told my father and we had a long talk about it. The awkwardness, which I’m sure he played up on purpose, still haunts me to this day.
When I was in first grade, I walked to and from school each day “accompanied” by an older friend Maureen, who lived across the street. Early in the year, we stopped at another house on the way to school so she could meet her friend. This was the first time in my life I saw an older girl who was so stunning that I had trouble speaking in her presence. At age 6, I am not sure what I “felt” but I knew that there was something special going on in my heart and my sweaty palms. By “older” she was probably 12 and I just stopped writing to see if she is on social media. She is, and many blog readers are mutual friends, so I won’t tell you that her name is Robyn. Call me. Just kidding.
The summer after my 6th year of school brought hospital stays, and a diagnosis of muscular dystrophy. I’ve written about all of that so let me just say that this period of my life taught me perseverance, how to live and enjoy the moment and maybe most importantly……that nothing is ever as bad (or as great) as it may seem at the time. Slow and steady we all go through the life.
Finally, much of my childhood can be measured in songs that elicit memories. THAT is for another blog, but if you and I share a song memory….be it for an inside joke, or a wonderful, special time we had, I will drop it on your social media over the coming weeks. I will not leave a comment. I will leave a link to the song and see if our memories line up.
Childhood. The thread is…..SO much can be traced back to it. It all shaped me.
Stay awesome, stay safe and stay tuned. Send money. Just kidding. Send memories.
Patrick moeschen 