It was quite shocking to my senses as I recall, I was after all only a small boy at the time.

Perhaps it was this scarring effect that makes it so prominent in my recollections. I had thought that my family life was quite good, up until that point. I know that it may be offensive to my mother that I am even writing on this topic, but from my perspective as long as I am not slandering, then there is no major issue.

It is probable that my memory is not a paragon of perfection, but I am writing as I recall to the best of my mind’s ability after so long.

I remember for years being angry at my mother for doing nothing less than (I thought @ the time) attempting to leave us (my sisters and I.) I honestly thought we did something to make her not want to be with us anymore.

It made no sense to me as a child, and makes even less sense to me now looking back. This is the first time I am deeply touching this topic, consider it an exercise to exorcise a lot of childhood trauma. I am happy to say my mother survived her attempted suicide and is still very much alive, although she still struggles with depression issues and such.

It has been strongly authenticated that there is a marked constituent of sexual brutality often associated with the childhood of a serial killer.  Their deceitful conduct as adults is often times related to events from their past whether it be sexual, physical, emotional, or a combination of all three.  These forms of abuse ultimately mark where fantasy begins to surpass reality and some really alarming activities begin to surface.  Many become captivated with arson and/or there is the development of the cruel torture of animals to name a few.  It is worthy to note as well that there are many people who endure tragic childhoods, but yet do not become murderers.  Something in the mind of the serial killer gets triggered to an on position that cannot be stopped. 

As adults after traits of psychopathy and sociopathy have already set in, the serial killer will take on such acts as becoming engrossed with inner organs of the body, exclusively the sexual parts with an instance of this nature being necrophilia.  As psychopaths, they will lack any compassion or sympathy for their victims.  As sociopaths, their perception of what is considered correct and unethical has been corrupted. 

Most of the famous serial killers in America have been white males approximately around the age of thirty.  Ted Bundy is a notorious psychopath that comes to mind.  He lured women into his car and would do unspeakable acts with the bodies following their demise.  Sexual predator, John Wayne Gacy, and his psychopathic tendencies became the center of attention amongst researchers after he was imprisoned for raping and killing several young males. 

There has been some progression and conjecture as to why a select group of individuals will become serial killers.  Some theorists have considered that they are biologically born as killers with anomalous activity being experienced in the brain.  The mind of the serial killer continues to be studied and more superior gains of knowledge are expected to evolve in the future.

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Reformers considered that all children needed to be educated to survive in an ever changing world. While education was important it was only available to white children as they were the key to progress in Australia. Kyle (1999) suggests that racism was reinforced in Australia as Aboriginal children were generally excluded from attending white schools. They were taught basic skills such sewing, cleaning, serving and horse riding as the authorities considered that they were incapable of learning complex ones. It is appalling to think that Aboriginal people were marginalised as white society equated skin colour with intellect and ability. Modern Australians need to remember that Aboriginal people were not considered to be citizens which meant that they did not have the same rights and privileges as their white ancestors.

Parents no longer had sole control of their children as society began to rely on experts to tell them how to manage their lives. According to Kyle (1999) professionals were employed to form children’s mind in the belief that they would create a generation of competent, model citizens. In conclusion childhood has become necessary for the future health and stability of the nation as a whole.

For many children, Puff is the first dragon they learn about. The easy to remember and sing chorus makes him easier to remember than Smaug, in Tolkien’s The Hobbit, or the un-named fire-breathing monster slaughtered by Saint George.

Puff’s story / song is actually a very sad one, a reflection on the abandonment of childhood and our imaginary friends.

Puff is a happy, benevolent and friendly dragon, and particularly fond of autumn. He lives and plays in a land called Honah Lee, which is a coastal region.

A child called Jackie Paper, who brings Puff things to play with, befriends him and shows him interesting stuff including ‘string and sealing wax’(a reference to Lewis Carroll’s poem The Walrus And The Carpenter).

Jackie and Puff enjoy sailing, and everyone waved cheerily as their boat went by, kings and pirates alike. Puff would do the work, and Jackie stood on the dragon’s tail acting as a lookout.

Then, suddenly the fun ends. Puff goes to their usual rendezvous point one night, but Jackie Paper hasn’t turned up. Puff is deeply saddened. He is immortal, but children grow up, and eventually die.  The once happy dragon is now alone and abandoned. His roars of joy are no longer heard in Honah-Lee.

There are curious references to ‘Painted wings and giant rings’ being dumped in favour of other toys. This could suggest that Puff was simply a makeshift toy created by Jackie Paper, or this could be some hoome made model Jackie took to Honah Lee on occasion to show to the dragon.

Puff is so saddened by the inexplicable loss of his best friend that his scales start to fall off and he slips away quietly to his cave, forever broken hearted, never to be seen again

A lovely, but deeply melancholic song despite its cheery chorus. Puff is so unlike the violent flying dragons abounding in the fantasy works we read later in life. He is the abandoned forgotten friend left pining as we move on – a dream forgotten for other dreams. He is the lost magic and innocence of childhood.

The song gave a nickname to a US army gunship, the AC-47 because of its formidable fire power, though Puff is never described as breathing fire.  Many have tried to interpret the song as a drug-taking anthem, but it reflects only the tragedy of having to leave our childhoods behind.

Arthur, Chappell,

I cannot exactly remember how old I was when I was aware of wedding parties around me. Although I am positive that I attended such parties when I was in my mummy’s tummy and later on when my sister was cuddling me until I was able to join other children independently.

I do not know how everything started, and that was not important for me either. The chief chef of my village was a woman called Auntie Halaw, she had giant things at hand on that day; giant pots, giant deep pans, giant spoons and she was also looked quite giant to our eyes. She was standing beside a pot half full of water with oil swimming on the top. My friends and I were looking at the pot and we imagined it was a swimming pool. It was good that they asked one of the men to guard the whole cooking area otherwise one or two of the most naughty children might jumped in the imagined swimming pool.

The smell of the burning wood, the half burned oil, the blurry rice inside the pot all was big experience for me. Pure Halaw was not only the chief cook of the women but she had a lot of power over a group of young men appointed to help her with the fire, lifting heavy pots, preventing the children from coming too close to the risky area, and to be as ready as a bullet to anywhere she ordered them to go to bring more equipment for that great day.

The equipment, as they were so giant they were not for daily use, come from different households, a pot from this house another one from the next and so on. It was a busy day; however we could not just stick to the cooking part as we heard the sound of the songs and dance from the village square. We were running from one to the other and when we spent some time watching the dance and looking at the dancing men and women we were coming back to check what was going on in the cooking domain.

Men were served first, among men guests from the surrounding villages and higher ranked men from our village such as the religious leader or Imam, the village chief called Kwekha and other elderly men. After them came the women and as we desperately were waiting to have our share in the feast they repeatedly told us ‘you children, stay quiet and soon you will be served’. It was not only ‘late’ but it was as late as it looked if we were waiting for ages. I heard my mother, who was dressed very brightly, complaining about me to a neighbour as I was not going home to have something to eat and was waiting for the feast, ‘children like that because it is a public event, all the children eat together in an open yard, that is why they like it so much’ she said. I did not care so much about that as I wanted to have my share of the rice and stew I was waiting for it so long.

The rice they served the children was somehow coloured, serving the men and the women left so much rice half eaten and have meat mixed with it and stew changed its colour. It was so delicious that it looked like as if it was my first time to eat any rice at all. The burnt rice in the bottom of the pot was so hard that it looked like a giant iceberg. That was not rubbish as one may imagine, as the children were lined up to get their share of that too before the big event when they throw sweets over the bride and we had to have our share of that too.

The dance, the song and the rice became a triangle that I never forget, although now I may easily forget things I did one day ago.  

I was born near the tail end of the baby boom generation. My dad worked in a factory and my mother stayed home. We were quite poor but I didn’t know it because I always felt secure. My childhood was spent in Southern California in a house surrounded by fields and orange groves.

  My parents were young and my dad had a record player that I was fascinated with. It had a huge turntable covered in felt and it was built into a case that had a lid and could be latched. That record player had a wonderful, unique smell that I will always remember. It looked something like this:

  He had a stack of vinyl 45 records that were so exciting. Mostly Elvis Presley, but I also remember Bob Luman, Bobby Darin, Ferlin Husky, Johnny Cash and Jimmy Rogers. Since a 45 had a big hole in the middle, it was necessary to keep a supply of spindle adaptors. Without it, the record wouldn’t stay centered on the turntable.

  We had a black and white television and TV was free, although programming was pretty limited. There were no video games or internet. Our telephone was a corded rotary dial type and we had only one for the whole house. It was ok though because back then, kids spent a lot of time outdoors and parents didn’t worry much about kidnappings and such. We climbed trees, played kickball, and ate oranges and walnuts all day long from the trees around the neighborhood.

  Sodas were sold in tall glass bottles back then which could be taken, when empty, back to the store and exchanged for money. My sister and I would collect them and when we had enough, we would redeem them for penny candy. We could easily come away with a good sized bag full of a variety of candy and gum. Later I would pay at the dentist’s office.

  In 1964, the Beatles landed in America and although I was only 5 years old, I fell in love with them. There were plenty of cartoons on TV, but my favorite shows were Shindig, Hullabaloo and Bandstand. These were all musical variety shows that featured the popular stars of the day and teenagers dancing.

  The fashions of the time were nearly as exciting as the music. The girls were wearing go go boots, bell bottoms and mini skirts, while the boys were sporting long hair and clothes with paisley prints and stripes.

  Popular toys were Tonka trucks and Barbie dolls. I wanted a Barbie but I got Midge instead. She didn’t seem as glamorous as Barbie.

  Other toys that were heavily advertised were the Slinky, which is still sold today, Wheelo and Gaylord the Bassett Hound. I owned Gaylord and I seem to remember he required a lot of batteries, so when his power ran out, that was the end of playing with him. By pulling on his leash, he would be triggered to walk, with a lot of motor and gear noise I might add.

Gaylord        Wheelo

  I’m very happy I was born a baby boomer and I would not trade it for anything else. Things were far from perfect but it was a good time to grow up. Much progress has been made since then in science, medicine, civil rights, technology and general knowledge as it should be, but I will always feel nostalgic for the simpler life of the sixties.

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

The famous lines are uttered by the romantic poet Wordsworth who through his writings conveyed the noblest and purest thoughts of childhood. Childhood, the golden stage in man’s life is made glowing and bright by the divine power and the child being closer to god. finds himself blessed by the celestial light that has the power to keep him away from the matters of business, love for power and pelf and strife the issues which have made man’s life stale and meaningless. Although those few moments of perpetual joy and happiness are over but their memories have conquered my mind to that extent that i always find myself lost in them. The chirping and twittering of birds that unveils the earth from the mystery of night, made me able to establish a close relationship with the nature. The animate and inanimate had no separate entity for me. All that existed, was the bond of love- an intermediary working to mould the life of all creatures in an exalted style that is an inclination towards affection and attachment. That short-lived period had its own fantasies and imaginations which usually carried me away from the living world to a solitary lands of fairies and giants. Those warm-sunny days and chilling- starry nights sometimes seemed to have requested not to become one of those ungrateful men who do not even bother to look at them and appreciate their beauty.

The innocent age had no understandings of the frenzy of life. All that kept me occupied was running after the butterflies and sparrows in order to catch and play with them afterwards. But with the arrival of adulthood, I got drifted away from the core concept of life i.e. love of nature. The questions that have the power to shake ones body and soul did not spare me too. Surrounded by the worldly matters, life made its move towards hedonism. But a sigh of relief comes to me when I recollect the glories of infancy. A mournful vision brings tears in my eyes when i try to compare the past days with the present ones. There was no tension or worry of any kind but an environment of peace and calmness around me. I wish the retreat were possible for me where I could lead my life in tranquil surroundings.

I have recounted in an earlier post my experiences as a child with a paedophile neighbour who got his jollies by having me masturbate his – to me as a small boy huge penis – to what for him was obviously a deeply satisfactory ending and for me an unpleasant and horribly sticky mess. Do not, please, misunderstand what happened. This man, sick as he was, never tried to violate me in any other sense than wanting to fondle my childish sexual organ, but nonetheless he abused me.

Now I cannot possibly tell you if that experience, which actually happened several times in a three-month period, was a major contributing factor to the way I feel about this, but it must have had some bearing, because my youngest sister has been a lesbian since her teens – We once avoided speaking to each other for two years because one of her bisexual girlfriends began seeing me at the same time – and I have never regarded this as being in any way abnormal.

Somehow it seems right that women should at times be allowed to find sexual solace with one another, yet the homophobic part of my psyche is outraged at the very notion of men doing so with other men. It seems unclean, tainted, dirty, and even though I am not religious at at all, my Catholic childhood reminds me of just how sinful lustful feelings between men are deemed to be by god.

This is, I grant you a dichotomy, but i see no way to extricate myself from it by pretending that I find the idea of gay marriage wholesome or natural in any way. Whilst I can accept, grudgingly obviously, that my youngest sister and her female partner of over twenty-five years seem blissfully happy, I still have an underlying question about the morality of their union, though by no means as strong as it would be were she a brother instead.

The question is, in light of the experiences in childhood and their impact on my life, which i confess I always thought to be minimal at worst, am I in adulthood a case off slightly damaged goods who might have taken a different life path had those events not transpired?  I am not the one to judge that, though after three marriages, two children, exclusively heterosexual behaviour and a wife with whom I have enjoyed twenty glorious years, I think it safe to say that I have always known where MY sexual preferences lay, and where they most certainly did not. If I am damaged, and faintly homophobic about male homosexuality, I think I have good reason to be so, and make no apology for it.

As children develop self-conscious emotions they also develop a sense of sympathy and empathy. Sympathy is feeling for another person while empathy is feeling with another person. Although closely related, empathy does not always lead to sympathy (Berk, 2008). Temperament is a major contributor to how a child responds to another person. “Children who are sociable, assertive, and good at regulating emotion are more likely than poor emotion regulators to display sympathy and prosocial behavior, helping, sharing, and comforting others in distress,” (Berk, 2008). Children who poorly regulate their emotions are more apt to become personally distressed which then the child’s attention will be brought upon reducing their own anxiety (Berk, 2008). Parenting also plays a role in determining how a child will respond to another’s feelings. Warm, concerned parents who show their children empathy are likely to have children who respond to others in the same way. Angry and hostile parenting who show little empathy to their children, again, are likely to have children who respond in the same way as their parents have. They are also likely to show fear and aggression when the witness another person’s unhappiness.

Sources

Berk, L. E. (2008). Infants, Children, and Adolescents. Washington D.C.: Allyn & Bacon.

Lewis, M. (2011). The Self-Conscious Emotions. Retrieved November 4, 2011, from Encyclopedia on Early Childhood Development: http://www.child-encyclopedia.com/documents/LewisANGxp1.pdf

In the ever increasing pressures of the modern world driven by a societal belief that God in his wisdom has created successful children based on the marks obtained by them in their examinations has created a unhealthy situation of children loosing out on the innocence of growing up.

There is an increasing tendency of focusing on the knowledge that a child has which has been passed on from generation to generation. This has lead to a lack of self-discovery which should form a part of childhood and growing up. Children today are simply told what to do and what not to do by teachers, parents and society and often follow it blindly because of the inherent appreciation that they get when they do as they are told.

What this has done is improved the memories of the child not the ability, schools today give fact and fiction instead of letting the child discover and create their own truths. In fact classes which develop abilities and life skills rather than memories are soundly ridiculed!

Yet education has very little to do with knowledge, it has to do with wisdom, that is knowledge applied. We need to shift focus from “what to think” to “how to think”. Let the child discover for itself. That is to educate intelligently not rote memory. In fact the Heart of education today should be the “Education of the Heart”.

We can indeed learn as adults a lot from children, Spend time with children, Learn more about laughter, spontaneity, curiosity, acceptance, resilience, trust, determination and imagination. They are here to teach us!

When we learn from children, we in fact learn from divinity. Divinity is all about laughter, spontaneity, curiosity acceptance, resilience, trust, determination and imagination.

As Kahlil Gibran says;

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself.

They come through you, and not from you.

And though they are with you, they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but bot your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but strive not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and he bends you with his might that arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so he loves the bow that is stable.

And definitely do not live your dreams through the eyes of your children.