There was a time in my life — much of it happening between ages 14 and 20 — that I look back on from my vantage point of today, and almost do not recognize. What the hell was I part of???
Landscape near Sedona, AZ
I suppose it's only natural to ponder the weirdness that was our teenage years, although for some people the memories are evidently more favorable. Mine seem like a strange surreal wasteland I once visited and was grateful to escape from...
Part of the strangeness of my childhood and youth owes to the fact that my parents were "older" when I was born.
My mom was 39 and my dad 43 when I saw the light of day... and that was pretty much ancient, by 1960's standards. The effective result was that it sometimes felt more like I was being raised by my grandparents than by parents.
My mother was a narcissistic and dedicated snob, consummate manipulator and ambitious social climber. Although she never wasted much time talking about her many "talents and experiences," the bottom line was that her primary "occupation" in life was — and had long been — "marrying well."
In many ways, I think she would rather have had a daughter to train in the genteel arts of snobbery and social climbing, but since that wasn't in the cards, she did the next best thing: She attempted to bring me up and train me in the matter of how to "be attractive" to gold digging social climbers. Her endeavors somewhat backfired because what she succeeded in doing was teach everything that seemed to be wrong with the world... at least through my eyes!
The irony of the entire shitshow was that we weren't actually that well off, and whereas my birth father came from a very "good" old family, my mother was (somewhat to her shame) the daughter of a lowly Danish civil servant. But that never prevented her from eternally trying to micromanage whom I associated with, including trying to set up "introductions" with the "right kind" of young women, even when I was as young as 14.
Needless to say, her ideas and mine were about as far apart as... Alaska and Tierra del Fuego. This led to a fair number of a-w-k-w-a-r-d moments... including many in which I found myself creepily the focus of exaggeratedly effusive mothers' fawnings and attentions, rather than their daughters'...
So, one time there was this rather imperious and overbearing woman (You might say she was "a Legend in her own mind") named Hetty, who also happened to have a couple of daughters approximately my age — 17 and 19 to my recently turned 18. Hetty, herself, was the sort of person I would characterize as "a schooner under full sail." Modern day "Karens" DREAM of being as obnoxious and overbearing as Hetty...
I will confess that I had not actually met either of aforesaid daughters (aside from brief "hellos"), but having seen them regularly at a distance I would characterize them as "Aggressively Frumpy and Plump Karens-in-Training."
So anyway... it came to pass that my dad passed away about a month after my 18th birthday, and in our small ex-pat community it was not long before everyone was aware of "that unfortunate fatherless boy."
When aforesaid Hetty learned that my father had died, she unashamedly approached my mother and declared "I understand your son is about to inherit a large sum of money. I would really like him to meet my daughter!" In this case, meaning the 19-year old, who was visiting from the UK.
With the benefit of 42 years of hindsight: Mind Blown. At the time: Not on your life!
Of course, my mother — who had spent virtually all her adult life as a gold digging social climber, herself — wasn't put off in the slightest by such an approach, seeing instead an opportunity to have me introduced into the "right" sorts of circles. After all, Hetty's husband was some kind of Earl or Count.
I knew aforesaid husband — whose name was also Peter, like myself — and he seemed like a pretty normal human being who spent a lot of time on the golf course... and saying "Yes dear!" He might have been the only reasonably sane member of that household...
In spite of my many and repeated protestations — which my mother efficiently brushed aside with curt "oh, nonsense!" exclamations — some kind of "suitable occasion" was arranged and in the interest of maintaining at least a minimal semblance of family relations, I agreed to show up. You'd think we'd just time travelled into the Vistorian era! Two families having tea...
In the end, though, the meeting was awkward but blissfully brief... because aforesaid daughter — named Audrey — realized just as much as I that it was a total circus-like "set up" and the one thing we did share in common was an almost equal loathing of our respective mothers' machinations.
For about 30 minutes, Hetty asked me pointed questions, and my mother asked Audrey pointed questions while Audrey and I rolled our eyes at each other in a matching tempo. I don't think we actually said more than a dozen words directly to each other.
Then there was some polite chit-chat and a few minutes later we left (because "first meetings shouldn't be too long); my mother complaining the entire way home that I should have worn a suit not more "casual daytime clothes;" me staring out the car window and silently contemplating the utterly surreal experience I just had.
Of course, nothing came of this particular "introduction." In some ways, that particular incident did mark a turning point in my life, at which I realized that I really wanted nothing to do with the life in which I had been raised. Some six weeks later I'd left home and moved into a small apartment — it was about three months past my 18th birthday. I made my way as a translator for freshly arrived ex-pats who spoke no Spanish mixed with hustling big money golf games against moneyed tourists, in partnership with a local bar owner.
In its own way, that was a bit surreal, too... but it was often a decent living, with a few of the golf games netting me the equivalent of $1,000 for walking around in the sun for a few hours...
My mother still tried to micromanage my life "by remote control," but it was more annoying than effective, and not intrusive enough to prevent me from trying to figure out my own identity. My subsequent "escape" to the US in late 1980 added an element of geographical separation that cemented that reality firmly in place!
In retrospect, I'm sure it also must have been a great blow to Hetty's ego that Audrey — not long after our meeting — started attending college at the liberal-leaning London School of Economics rather than at a "suitably musty and tweedy college for young women!"
Whereas those days were definitely interesting and surreal, there's really nothing about them that I miss...
Thanks for reading, and have a great remainder of your week!
How about YOU? Does your childhood/youth ever feel surreal? Did you have controlling parents who tried to overwrite THEIR reality on yours? Any particular incidents come to mind? Comments, feedback and other interaction is invited and welcomed! Because — after all — SOCIAL content is about interacting, right? Leave a comment — share your experiences — be part of the conversation!
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Created at 20210609 15:54 PDT
0274/1517