Okay. You’ve put in a long, hard day (sometimes without a whole lot to show for) and you’re feeling drained. You need a good diversion, something pleasant and relaxing to take your mind off work and deadlines, bills to pay, and emails or voice mails that need answering. You kick back in your chair, beverage in hand, and turn on the TV. And what do you get? 24-hour news, yucky news. Loud and crass commercials. Sex and violence dramas.
It’s no surprise then that I’ve lately found myself yearning for simpler days. Just for a brief respite in the evening, long enough for my mind to quiet down before bedtime. And so I couldn’t believe my good luck when by chance I ran across a special friend from childhood that had been part of many wonderful memories I still cherish. Five lost decades just evaporated into thin air as if by magic, and I’ve been happily revisiting with my old chum every evening since.
You see, the special friend I’ve carried in my heart all these years is one of the first books I was able to finish on my own soon after I had learned to read. It was a translated copy of a children’s book by the beloved nineteenth-century French author Hector Malot, titled Sans Famille (“Without a Family”). It’s the story of an eight-year-old orphan boy who was ripped from his foster mother’s arms and sold by her heartless husband to a traveling artist with a troupe of performing dogs and monkey. The old artist loved the boy like his own blood and taught him to read and to play music and sing. Rain, snow or shine, the troupe wandered from village to village all around the country (France) and beyond (England, Switzerland), encountering all kinds of people along the way and weathering one adventure after another until—well, I won’t spoil the ending for you in case you may want to check it out some day. Suffice it to say it’s got all the ingredients for a fantastic story: love, friendship, loyalty, travel, mystery and intrigue, and adorable animals. I can’t recall how many times I reread that book from cover to cover through my years in elementary school.
It so happened I was browsing a Kindle book list one recent evening when I stumbled across a 1916 American translation of Sans Famille, called Nobody’s Boy. Out of curiosity, I downloaded it, not suspecting for a minute I would soon be swept up in the adventures of Rémi, the orphan boy, and his animal friends, all over again. It’s mind-boggling how much of it I still remembered all these years later. And not only the story, but also the feelings and emotions that it arose in me as a young child. It might have been my imagination afterwards but I’d swear I slept better—more happily and restfully—on those few nights after reading my childhood book again. The colorful illustration above is from a Japanese reprint, and even though it’s not the same as the cover of my early copy, it captures well the joyful spirit of the book.
And now, dear reader, would you care to share some of your special friends from your early years?
Thank you very much, Chinh. Your story of your special friend came at a very timely moment for me. I’m going to turn 70 years of age in a couple of weeks and I decided to treat myself to a satellite tour of the various places that I have lived since my birth. In particular, I wanted to view, from above, my homes and the nearby neighborhoods of my youth. I was born in Rankin, Pennsylvania (a suburb of Pittsburgh) in 1946 and through the magic of technology I was able to do a Google map zoom over the home that I was born in. Actually, that home was a portion of what is called a “housing project” that was built for the returning unemployed GI’s from WWII.
Poor in economy but rich in memories for a small boy just going to kindergarten. I traced my footpath from above to the school I first attended. It seemed like miles that I walked, though I’m sure it could be measured in only a couple hundred yards. I saw the place where my school used to be. Now it is only an empty lot since it burned down decades ago. I imagined the playground was still there and imagined further still that I saw my little boy self still playing there. I saw, too, the main street I had to cross every weekday morning. There were no traffic lights there to assure my safe passage across the busy traffic. There was a traffic police man there instead that stopped traffic to allow the children to cross. This was a treat for me because the police man gestured for each child to run toward him and he would catch us under the arms and twirl us as he safely landed us safely on the other side. What a wondrous time in my life and I am so happy and blessed that my special friend, my memory, is still friends with me.
Hi John, it’s so nice to hear from you. And thank you so much for sharing some of your beautiful and touching childhood memories. You’ve come a long,long way from that street crossing with no traffic lights, if I may say so. Always remember we in that first PPG Process Control Group always looked up to you (and still do) as a very capable and caring mentor/big brother! Cheers, big guy!
Books were my window to the world when I was young, but it was color comics that I really connected with. I learned to read by following the pictures in “Orphan Annie”, and am always surprised to see some of the comic strips still surviving (although greatly modified) today. I wonder what today’s children will remember about the art of story telling? Do they even read books, or is it all videos and Kindle? It will be a big loss if story books are no longer a medium for today’s children!
I’d love to think that books still play an important role in a child’s formative years, but I’m afraid you may have a point about cell phones, iPads and videos etc. We can always hope, and encourage. Thanks for stopping by.
Lovely trip down the memory lane of books. I remember with special fondness the books Heidi, Black Beauty, and Pinocchio, and from very young days a large picture book called simply Mother Goose.
Hi Carol! Those are some classic children’s books. I hope today’s parents are still trying to share those treasures with their young kids.