I remember when young, and moaning about school and probably about
homework, my mother would say: "Ah, these are the best days of your life. Time
for fun and excitement." It did not seem very exciting being 15 in gloomy London
in the 1950s.
England still had not fully recovered from WWII nor would it for many more
years. However, what a privileged life we were living had not sunk in yet. Free
education, even at the University Level, warm homes and food in the fridge. Yes,
we had a fridge back then. The neighbours thought we were weird wanting a fridge
in that climate, but of course, nowadays, it is a different story.
I think I have finally absorbed what my mother meant by those words.
Childhood and schooldays appear to have been like a spaceship ride from one
simple planet to another very complicated one called adulthood!
Teachers, counsellors "life-style" coaches forget to warn you that even
adulthood comes in a variety of stages: young adult, mature adult.... and the
one most people ignore -- Old Adult!
I gave this portion of my life little consideration until it appeared like
a wild dog on the scene and bit me! Ouch, being old aches!!
I have a good memory and feel blessed to be able to vividly recall many events from
the 1950s and 60s. However, I have ended up in a location without the people
that figure prominently in those memories. Similarly, there is a whole decade --
the Seventies, a time that truly helped shape me, and gave me the opportunities
to realize a lot of dreams, plus learn "adult" skills. Now I find, those people
also seem to be out of reach.
The factor that figures as links between all these events is music.
My memories are intrinsically wound up in melodies. Working on my radio
shows leads me to refresh the memories and articulate many of my feelings from
those times. Not surprisingly, I long to be able to sit with those people & relive those times; but
time has robbed me of too many of the actors in my life.
I remember very well February 4th, 1959, when my Dad woke me up for school
with a cup of tea and the newspaper whose headline shouted out that Buddy Holly
had died. It was a huge shock.
Feb 3rd, the day that the plane crashed, is the "day the music died" according to
Don MacLean in American Pie. I feel blessed to have enjoyed a long life after
that day, which has been filled with music and love and friendship.
Yet, I still wish, for just a moment, that I could experience things again with my
friends from the best days of my life. School Days !!
