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Most users ever online was 328 on 2012-09-14, 11:57 am

The SunderMad Blog--A LESSON LEARNED.

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The SunderMad Blog--A LESSON LEARNED.

Post  cyprussyd on 2014-08-12, 2:45 pm

SunderMad Blog

A LESSON LEARNED

A departure from football and world events this month, I am taking you back in time to innocent days or simple pleasures, well maybe not.

I joined a facebook page a few weeks ago all about the village of my birth and its neighbouring village that I grew up in, the mining villages of Wheatley Hill and Thornley.

I am loving every minute of it, reminiscing about our youth, parents, school and village life. So many memories, names and places of my past brought to life in the present.

Names long forgotten but brought back to life through their children and even grand children.

Of course time moves on, we learn, we grow, we improve and hopefully become the better for it but it has hit me like a hammer blow just how many lessons I had learned but maybe not appreciated.

I suspect that I am by no means unique in believing I knew better than my parents and could teach them a lesson or two in most things. I would make myself a far better life than they had and that's fine, parents in general want their children to do better but in some things our parents really did know best.

Well maybe that's not quite true, I am well aware how blessed I was to have my parents and I know that not everyone were that fortunate, that said I can only speak for me and my mam and dad.

My dad was very pitmatic and had his own language, one that I struggled to understand at times. He was a blacksmith at the pit and I remember going to the blacksmiths shop at the pit many times to see him. He would always stand in vest and leather apron, glowing from the reflection of the fire on his sweating body as he worked at the forge.

One day, when my son Christopher was still a baby and just learning to talk, I was at my parents house and in the back garden with my dad, he was holding Christopher.
Look up there Christopher,” my dad said, “Look at the dickie birds”.

Please dad”, said I, “Don't say dickie birds, I want him to learn to talk properly”.

My dad thought for a second then said,”OK, look at the spugies Christopher”.

I never again tried to give my dad parenting advice, a lesson had been learned but it took me many, many years to learn the lesson fully.

I was very judgemental during my early and mid adult years and spent a lot of time chasing and indeed catching the dream. I moved away from the village then the area. Left behind the people and mixed with new people, clever successful people and became successful, with them.

Over the next 30 years I would divorce twice, make and lose two fortunes and eventually end up around 4 miles from where I was born. Many of my successful friends had long gone, it seemed that a poor me was nothing like as attractive a prospect than a wealthy me. I don't say this for any kind of sympathy I say it to empathise a point because the people I now talk to on that facebook group are, in the main, like my neighbours in the small ex mining village I live in and have the same values.

I try hard not to be judgemental these days and get a wee bit touchy when I hear, look at the size of him/her! What does she/he look like in those clothes! Listen to how she/he talks! Have you seen where she/he lives!

I try and like everyone and respect everyone until they give me a reason not to, not always easy because we all make those first impressions but now when I see strange sizes, clothes or hear accents I realise its all just window dressing and its what;s inside that matters.

Its taken me 30 years and many miles to understand what my dad meant with dickie bird and spuggy compared to my very proper bird. All different words but with the same meaning and that look he gave me said, “I dont like you telling me that but its really not worth fighting over”. If only the people fighting over God or Allah had been brought up by my parents they may have understood, two names, same thing, not worth fighting over.

Maybe as I approach my 66th year I am just getting a bit soft and sentimental, maybe my memory is twisting things to how I want them to be rather than how they were and that day in my parents back garden my dad was just being rebellious.

Whatever the truth one thing is certain, well two things, one I never ever forgot that very brief conversation and two, I never questioned my dad again.


Last edited by cyprussyd on 2014-08-13, 5:02 pm; edited 1 time in total

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Re: The SunderMad Blog--A LESSON LEARNED.

Post  Hieronymus on 2014-08-12, 6:43 pm

Another lovely post Syd, nothing to add except  clapy  clapy  clapy 
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