"I grew Up In Essex..."

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

 

 

Author's Note

Feel Free.

Reviews

[Fran Marie]

you bring light to the values and morals many of us
held dear when growing up in meager surroundings
today's world is a flux of fear and confusion with PC
having people walk on egg shells afraid to voice their
views and opinions, with freedom of speech being
threatened .& Other freedoms as well
.sad, sad, sad ..I miss the good
old days.. well written Chris

[Chris]

Good "seeing" you Fran, come by and pause anytime... Chris

[Lorry]

I really like how you differentiate where you are from, more than just a physical address, but to a point and space in time Chris.
It got me into looking at where I was from to where I am now and was shocked and stunned, and not a little bewildered to find that looking it up on a route finder app, the place I was born to where I find myself living in the now is not vast galaxies in another dimension, but only 112 of your puny earth miles!
I was born in Glasgow, Scotland in a place called Partick (Pardaig in Gaelic), which the comedian Billy connolly quite wrongly joked was a quaint fishing village on the Clyde, to an audience that knew it was a hard, working class town, where you left school on a Friday and started a job for life learning a trade in one of the many shipyards on the Monday. The only thought there was involved in that was a hope, that you'd get a good trade. Sadly, those days are gone and you would these days most likely find yourself in an office, or worse, the dreaded call centre.
Nowadays, I live as close as possible to the countryside as you can get, by living In a woods, not just near one, where fresh air took a while to get used to, chipping away at years of smog and fumes that my lungs had grown accustomed to and now I, like my lungs, have become accustomed to a new life in an unspoilt area, where beauty surrounds and comes in the form of a pollution free zone.
To try to explain that journey would take at least as many volumes as is in the encyclopedia Brittanica (remember them?) but this is not why I am here, and I promise to get back to your plot after telling you this. I looked up the distance from where I was born to where I live now, on one of those new fangled app thingys and was shocked, stunned and not a little amazed to find out that it was only 112 of your puny earth miles and not at the other end of vast galaxies, which it has felt like to me being.
Your world view and vision are the real zip code of where you are from and I love your line "define rough, then live it!"
I remember hearing similar from my parents, which went along the lines of "We were poor, but no one knew it, because we were all poor, so had nothing to judge ourselves by, other than a few scattered" fancy houses", which to them were most probably farmhouses with helluva big gardens (they were evacuated to Ireland during the war and those big gardens were most likely fields.
And as you end with saying you miss it, they did too. They might have been poor, but life turned out just fine in the end.
A great tale, wonderfully told.

[Chris]

The more "uncertain" times become, I think we miss what we used as foundations to grow.

[Dave Brown]

I visit 'home' quite rarely because it has turn from being that place where we had the freedom to explore anywhere, into becoming a high rise jungle
A very sorry scenario, but I do still remember walking past the bakery, daily, on my way home from school and buying a 'butterhorn' which I loved eating.
Memories!!

[Chris]

Memories! Though the places "Go away", memories keep them "alive" in our thoughts...

[Ken Simm.]

I was born near Wigan. I am a north west lad. But I can empathise with so much here. I despair today sometimes. We were never that way where we?
Profound Excellently written.

[Chris Shaw]

A Hammersmith girl. Recognized so much about “home” here in your lines. Our freedoms under threat. The green green grass of home long gone. I feel we have lost something of immense value and replaced it with cardboard. But I am not silent and I am unafraid of voicing my opinion. I won’t go quietly. I found much value here today as I passed through.

Chris

[Chris]

You are ALWAYS welcome.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you so much :)

[S.zaynab.kamoonpury]

A superb epic touching on a world view, the place and interesting muse wow! The past and its lifestyle is great to read of always. Kudos!!

Plz also read and comment my newest poem too

[Chris]

People need understand what formed them...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

What you build here is so similar to my world or worlds.
grew up in the Bronx, among the skyscrapers, spent summers in Vermont, the mountains, the farms...
I felt nurtured there...
then moved at nine and felt born again into a totally different setting in Illinois, south of Chicago.
Very different, but became from there...and then Southern Illinois found me most at home there, here, where I am , where I write...roam, room...
exist...yet lately I seem to lean back to my original roots more than ever... maybe age causes more appreciation of the places we have been...and places that formed us.
Don't know...but might be true.
a journey here, relatable on so many levels.
j.

[Chris]

Good seeing you Jacob... we are more than our memories and yet the attraction of them IS undeniable.

[emmajoygreen]

These words are what poetry means, it encapsulates though, reality, presence and comfort.. it is what a true Man feels.. his comfort blanket of not choice but a feeling that 'I am here, I am this and that all in one place.. and precious.' You write with such finesse yet the dark and light, the smile and tear is clearly shown. It is honest, Chris.. Thank you for the lack of cynicism and hypocrisy

[Chris]

Your "Dorset" is a place AND time as well... sigh.

[emmajoygreen]

I agree, absolutely.. but you wrote your very special place in words I could never put echo to, dear sir.

[Ken e Bujold]

this is a true work of art my friend. I identify so much with the sentiment. Absent the broken home, the setting you so well capture is my youth. poor side of the tracks, wolf at the door, parents constantly on edge to keep it all together. Like you I dreamed of other places, and left to find them as soon as I could. But then along the way, something inside me shifted, and I began to see what I had then was in many ways far superior to what I collected while away. Now, graying, I have returned to just outside where I grew up, different side of the tracks I guess you could say, but I find more and more, I am in so many ways that boy. I think you know what i mean

[Chris]

Ken, we're brothers...