"I grew Up In Essex..."

"I grew Up In Essex..."

A Poem by Chris
"

A pause in Time.

"

“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

 

 

© 2023 Chris


Author's Note

Chris
Feel Free.

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Reviews

{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”.}

Evil prevails when good people do nothing. And personally, I think evil prevails as long as people do nothing at all.

I love what you wrote here and how you express it so vividly. Time was when you had to work for everything you got. With so many "handouts" these days, it's no wonder people don't want to get up off their royal duffs and work for a living (provided they are able-bodied, and/or able-minded).

Keep on telling it like it is!

Regards,

Sara...

Posted 1 Year Ago


Chris

1 Year Ago

Sara, come by anytime...
I love this, it really shows the difference in the times. So many people now don't see everything thats around them and they just have their faces glued to their phones all day, kids and adults alike!

Posted 1 Year Ago


Chris, I know it's been a long time since I've been around, so I have a lot of catching up to do.

I find it so interesting that even your explanations of your writing touch me. For example: you said,

"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."

It is an interesting feeling to read someone's work and have a mental picture of sitting at their feet as they speak, as if being told a folktale next to a fireplace or a bonfire in the distance.

The work itself echoes my own feelings of an almost decay (in my eyes) or evolution (probably more likely description) of society as we know it. Probably even more so for you than I and more for me than my son who is only 11 and knows no other world outside of depictions of times passed in entertainment.

How interesting the tale of three people. The one who speaks from your work, me - Gen X - and an eleven year old who has yet to form his own opinions about recollections of childhood/adolescent society/norms.

Can we adopt his wonder of the world as it is today without allowing the memories of our past to taint our hunger for experience? These are things your work made me consider.

Thank you for the picture of Essex. I appreciate your perspective and talent for word painting.

Posted 1 Year Ago


Chris

1 Year Ago

It matters to me to see my friends return and to have them come by... please don't hesitate to do so.. read more
Lines were long.. and we brought a box... got some needs .. not much else ..

Church was a must.. and now I question ALL OF THAT ..

Everyone I knew are gone.. not taken just dead .. I can see the turnstile, from here...

I'd run away..but to where ?? ...

Thought provoking ..........................................sad

Posted 1 Year Ago


Chris

1 Year Ago

Life as we live it...Good seeing you Jazz.
J. J.  Nightingale

1 Year Ago

Thanks... always good to see you Chris...
Memories can be warm and fuzzy and if doesn’t matter if they are accurate. It’s important that we remember them for us.

Posted 1 Year Ago


Chris

1 Year Ago

Hi Steph, glad you stopped by and paused.
A poignant account and snapshot of your life in Essex… first as you were growing up, with fortitude and the will to make things right… to hep others to speak out to wander, to dream…. As life always changes and the world around us changes, we live more now in fear, we’re in it for ourselves, people have to help themselves, even in poor situations…. Life has changed in Essex as it has for all of us growing up in our special places, it’s not the same for sure… really honest memories of changes before our eyes…
Warmly.
B



Posted 1 Year Ago


Chris

1 Year Ago

We seem to try so hard to return to the where and whom we left behind only to find that our past has.. read more
Betty Hermelee

1 Year Ago

Very true my friend
Warmly, B
i feel pretty honored to read such a persoanl account of your life back then and now "caught up" with the times .. i really like the understanding you present of "home" .. the now we live in .. always .. very cool .. at 18 we had our day didn't we!? what a time .. it was in the 60s for me .. i feel the lament in how things have taken an abrasive turn .. so much refection, almost hate, bickering and closed ears to anything that doesn't fit .. powerful social commentary ... very personal, close to home story telling .. super enjoyed the read tho my feelings have taken a decided turn toward sadness .. we'll make tho eh, Chris!? we have to. love and great peace and joy most wonderful friend .. right here at the Cafe
E.

Posted 1 Year Ago


Chris

1 Year Ago

So many, many people consider 18 the "demarcation line"...
Einstein Noodle

1 Year Ago

so true ... draftable .. able to drink 3.2 beer ;) many launchings happen peri-18yrs.
This is nice. I like how I felt transported to this specific place in time. Details.. Cozy.. Nostalgic..
Thanks for the share.

Posted 1 Year Ago


Chris

1 Year Ago

You're welcome - anytime.

Chris
I miss the old world Chris. We were kinder to each other.
"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”."
The above lines. Our new worlds. I call this generation. The quiet one's. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

Posted 1 Year Ago


Chris

1 Year Ago

I appreciate your presence and thoughts...

Chris
Coyote Poetry

1 Year Ago

You are welcome Chris.
I feel this in my heart. Some had to work the fields for every meal and they are the thankful ones. It seems like the more people have the more rude and selfish they become. Not all, but many. I think the wealth makes them feel "better" than others and they have such hatred of the poor. But the poor don't hate the rich. The poor help each other.

Posted 1 Year Ago


Chris

1 Year Ago

Hello Maria...American society has sooooo many strata for people to fall within. But poverty pretty.. read more
Maria E. Mendez

1 Year Ago

Yes, I think Jesus said, we have the poor with us always. I do not understand politics so good. I ju.. read more
Chris

1 Year Ago

so do I...

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Added on June 9, 2023
Last Updated on June 9, 2023
Tags: CHris, Writing, Poetry

Author

Chris
Chris

Lansing, MI



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