03:21
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last forever - and me along with it. However, that moment
eventually passed, and any illusions I had of immortality faded
like the dying rays of the sun, as perish most hopes and dreams
before life's fleeting journey has run its course. I'm reminded
of this every time I see yet another part of my past vanish
from my life, unexpectedly and without warning.
On June 14th, which is a Wednesday, it will be 45
years since I first moved into the house in which I currently
reside. However, I've lived here for only 41 years, because 11
years after moving in, we moved to another home in a different
neighbourhood. Just over 4 years later we returned - and I'll
have been back here for exactly 30 years come August 1st.
(The official tenancy commencement date is Monday 4th,
but we moved in 3 days early on the Saturday.)
but we moved in 3 days early on the Saturday.)
Anyway, with the approaching anniversary of having
first moved into this abode, I decided to take a trip along
to my former neighbourhood, the one from which we moved
in '72. On the way there, I noticed that 14 trees had been cut
down, and when I reached my destination, I saw that another
two at the bottom of the street where I'd lived had also been
removed. To me, it was like suddenly discovering that 16
childhood friends had suddenly died, and been disposed
of before I'd had a chance to pay my respects.
I resent change. Sometimes I feel as if I no longer
live in the town I grew up in, but rather one that bears a
bit of a resemblance to it. It's almost like living in an alter-
nate universe, wherein I spend my time wondering if I'll ever
be able to figure out a way to return to my own. I wish I were
The MOLECULE MAN, because then I could revert every-
thing back to how it all used to be. Once more I'd be able to
visit vanished buildings and places I knew as a youth, and
feel as if I belonged again, instead of, just like MEL
TORME, a stranger in my own home town.
There's a time in life when we feel 'in-sync' with the
world, that it's there for us and dances to the same beat
that we do. Then, one day, we suddenly realise that we no
longer recognise the tune and that it's best to 'sit this one out'.
It's then we know that 'our' moment has come and gone, and
that we've now become spectators, as opposed to the partici-
pants we once were. Other dancers have taken to the floor,
and we can only observe and wonder what happened to
the melody and lyrics. For us the dance is over, and
willingly or not, we must accept our relegation.
There was a time when I felt at home in this neigh-
bourhood. It was mine (or, at least, as much mine as
anyone's), and I was one of its younger inhabitants, and an
inheritor of what the future would bring. Now, however, I'm
one of the rapidly diminishing 'old guard', and a brash, new,
fresh contingent of youngsters overrun the place, treating it as
their own. I often find myself feeling like an intruder who's
invading their space (much as I feel like they're intruders
invading mine), and I realise the gossamer nature of the
sense of 'belonging' we humans feel in relation to our
surroundings, and just how transient it can be.
Anyway, to be honest, I never really had a clear
idea of where I was going with this when I started, and
it's now become a bit meandering so I'll draw it to a close.
If it's prompted any thoughts or observations of your own,
feel free to record them for posterity in our contemplative
comments section. We may get something worth read-
ing out of this post yet, so don't be shy now.
I resent change. Sometimes I feel as if I no longer
live in the town I grew up in, but rather one that bears a
bit of a resemblance to it. It's almost like living in an alter-
nate universe, wherein I spend my time wondering if I'll ever
be able to figure out a way to return to my own. I wish I were
The MOLECULE MAN, because then I could revert every-
thing back to how it all used to be. Once more I'd be able to
visit vanished buildings and places I knew as a youth, and
feel as if I belonged again, instead of, just like MEL
TORME, a stranger in my own home town.
There's a time in life when we feel 'in-sync' with the
world, that it's there for us and dances to the same beat
that we do. Then, one day, we suddenly realise that we no
longer recognise the tune and that it's best to 'sit this one out'.
It's then we know that 'our' moment has come and gone, and
that we've now become spectators, as opposed to the partici-
pants we once were. Other dancers have taken to the floor,
and we can only observe and wonder what happened to
the melody and lyrics. For us the dance is over, and
willingly or not, we must accept our relegation.
There was a time when I felt at home in this neigh-
bourhood. It was mine (or, at least, as much mine as
anyone's), and I was one of its younger inhabitants, and an
inheritor of what the future would bring. Now, however, I'm
one of the rapidly diminishing 'old guard', and a brash, new,
fresh contingent of youngsters overrun the place, treating it as
their own. I often find myself feeling like an intruder who's
invading their space (much as I feel like they're intruders
invading mine), and I realise the gossamer nature of the
sense of 'belonging' we humans feel in relation to our
surroundings, and just how transient it can be.
Anyway, to be honest, I never really had a clear
idea of where I was going with this when I started, and
it's now become a bit meandering so I'll draw it to a close.
If it's prompted any thoughts or observations of your own,
feel free to record them for posterity in our contemplative
comments section. We may get something worth read-
ing out of this post yet, so don't be shy now.
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