Interesting angle. I grew up on a remote acreage in Montana, and my childhood was defined by quiet. Now as a father of three children who have a double dose of Type A from their parents (my wife is Italian), I live with constant noise and chaos. I love my children with my life, but I do not love their yelling or fighting or loud negotiations. How fascinating to think that they might someday remember that cacophony differently! My favorite moments with my kids are board games, playing music together (my oldest plays violin and accompanies me on guitar), and reading before bed. All simulations of my childhood.
Much to think about here, Jan! For me, I grew up with two brothers and preoccupied parents--my dad with work, and my mom with continuous phone conversations with friends. Home was a place where I had unending time to entertain myself. I think that’s where my creativity and independence were born. Now I find myself retreating into myself at home sometimes. My husband had to become accustomed to my silence as my need to think instead of interpreting it as “the silent treatment.”🤣
Such an interesting post and indeed, a fascinating angle from which to discuss the type of atmosphere that feel like home to us.
I'd have to say I had both a loud and quiet home life... For most of the time, there was only my parents and me, because my sister was 12 years older than I. But she always brought lots of interesting (hippie, artist) friends back who seemed to enjoy sitting at our kitchen table and chatting with my parents. . Also had neighbors close by with lots of family members coming and going, especially in summer...and no air conditioning, of course. Fun, really. Yet I've lived alone for several decades.
I don’t remember my childhood home being particularly noisy or quiet. I do remember my mother listening to Walter Cronkite every morning and that she played Stephen Foster records a lot. We had big noisy holiday dinners, but day-to-day I think the house was fairly quiet. I wanted to be where the activity was, so I preferred to do my homework at the kitchen table. That’s probably why even now, decades later, I’d rather work in the living/dining room than in my back-of-the-house office. That feels normal to me, and I suppose it’s a form of home.
Interesting angle. I grew up on a remote acreage in Montana, and my childhood was defined by quiet. Now as a father of three children who have a double dose of Type A from their parents (my wife is Italian), I live with constant noise and chaos. I love my children with my life, but I do not love their yelling or fighting or loud negotiations. How fascinating to think that they might someday remember that cacophony differently! My favorite moments with my kids are board games, playing music together (my oldest plays violin and accompanies me on guitar), and reading before bed. All simulations of my childhood.
You’ve recovered, nice!
Phil
Five of us kids, and yet my memories are of a calm household.
Must have been the prevailing atmosphere of love.
Much to think about here, Jan! For me, I grew up with two brothers and preoccupied parents--my dad with work, and my mom with continuous phone conversations with friends. Home was a place where I had unending time to entertain myself. I think that’s where my creativity and independence were born. Now I find myself retreating into myself at home sometimes. My husband had to become accustomed to my silence as my need to think instead of interpreting it as “the silent treatment.”🤣
Such an interesting post and indeed, a fascinating angle from which to discuss the type of atmosphere that feel like home to us.
I'd have to say I had both a loud and quiet home life... For most of the time, there was only my parents and me, because my sister was 12 years older than I. But she always brought lots of interesting (hippie, artist) friends back who seemed to enjoy sitting at our kitchen table and chatting with my parents. . Also had neighbors close by with lots of family members coming and going, especially in summer...and no air conditioning, of course. Fun, really. Yet I've lived alone for several decades.
I don’t remember my childhood home being particularly noisy or quiet. I do remember my mother listening to Walter Cronkite every morning and that she played Stephen Foster records a lot. We had big noisy holiday dinners, but day-to-day I think the house was fairly quiet. I wanted to be where the activity was, so I preferred to do my homework at the kitchen table. That’s probably why even now, decades later, I’d rather work in the living/dining room than in my back-of-the-house office. That feels normal to me, and I suppose it’s a form of home.