T
Trishie
Guest
What memories from childhood would now seem strange to the next generation.
What activities or gadgets, games, customs or expectations are different now?
Frankly, I’m old though I can’t see myself as old and my hair is stubbornly brown, and folk usually are fooled, but no, I’m seventy…there was the Latin Mass, and singing Latin hymns in the choir. In early childhood, my siblings and I piously played the Fatima events, and with complete innocence and with childlike reverence, even the Mass, as religion taught by the nuns was even a natural part of the occupations of our childhood vacations.
We lived in a small city, surrounded by orchards, went fishing in the ‘creek’ which is actually a river, and was where we’re all learned to swim.
We walked over country roads to gather blackberries and mushrooms.
We made daisy chains from black-eyed yellow wild daisies on the way to school, and wore hooded thick raincoats that served as sails to speed our way down the hilll, and erosion gullies en route, lined with gleaming quartz stone were magical.
We said daily Rosary … in winter before the fireplace.
We played imaginative games outside throughout vacations,
And we read books, and occasionally played cards, and had family sing-songs around the piano, and sang rounders whilst during the dishes or going for Sunday drives though the countryside.
There wasn’t an electronic item, no television, until one day aereals began to appear above houses, and transistor radios, and women wearing slacks, and shorter skirts. The nuns were very strict about modesty.
The bread was delivered each day, and the sound of horse and cart signified that the milk was being delivered in glass bottles with shiny aluminium tops that we smoothed over lemon squeezers to make Christmas bells…
What activities or gadgets, games, customs or expectations are different now?
Frankly, I’m old though I can’t see myself as old and my hair is stubbornly brown, and folk usually are fooled, but no, I’m seventy…there was the Latin Mass, and singing Latin hymns in the choir. In early childhood, my siblings and I piously played the Fatima events, and with complete innocence and with childlike reverence, even the Mass, as religion taught by the nuns was even a natural part of the occupations of our childhood vacations.
We lived in a small city, surrounded by orchards, went fishing in the ‘creek’ which is actually a river, and was where we’re all learned to swim.
We walked over country roads to gather blackberries and mushrooms.
We made daisy chains from black-eyed yellow wild daisies on the way to school, and wore hooded thick raincoats that served as sails to speed our way down the hilll, and erosion gullies en route, lined with gleaming quartz stone were magical.
We said daily Rosary … in winter before the fireplace.
We played imaginative games outside throughout vacations,
And we read books, and occasionally played cards, and had family sing-songs around the piano, and sang rounders whilst during the dishes or going for Sunday drives though the countryside.
There wasn’t an electronic item, no television, until one day aereals began to appear above houses, and transistor radios, and women wearing slacks, and shorter skirts. The nuns were very strict about modesty.
The bread was delivered each day, and the sound of horse and cart signified that the milk was being delivered in glass bottles with shiny aluminium tops that we smoothed over lemon squeezers to make Christmas bells…
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Not much changes in the Church at my time
, however, and it’s been around a long time now.