Category: Childhood Memories

There is no doubt that the lunches I brought to school were unique. The lunches of sabzi (vegetables with gravy), roti (round flatbread) and chaval (rice) that my mother made for me labelled me as an outsider in school and amongst my classmates. My peers would come to school with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or typically ‘western’ lunch, and while they ate, I could only realize our differences. As much as I wanted to fit in with the other students, my mother subverted my best efforts in blending in with the other students.

Growing up, I had a black Artic Zone lunchbox that I brought with me every day. Every day I would pull out the sabzi, roti, and chaval my mother made with love and pride. The smell of my food was a flag waved big and bright over my head. It let everyone know that I was foreign, that I was different. My self-esteem plummeted when the other students around me would say, “What is that smell?”, and when the smell went away the comments, they made about me lingered.

I was exceedingly distressed at the comments being made towards me. For the rest of the day at school I thought about lunch. I would keep thinking to myself about the maelstrom I would cause every day. The girl that sat in front of me-who I had made friends with in math class-smelt the food and turned around, one would have thought that a roach was going up her arm.

That night, we were at the grocery store. My mom allowed me to pick out my ice cream since she saw I was sad and, on my way, back from picking out my favorite – triple chocolate rocky road. I realized I lost my mother. Abruptly I found her in the international food aisle. She was trying to find Indian food. As I saw her trying to find food from her mother country, I had a sudden realization.

Both my parents were born and raised in Gujarat, India on a village, but wanted their children to have red, white, and blue inscribed in their hearts. My father had come to the United States in the late eighties and my mother had come in the early 90’s. As much as they tried to adhere to the strange language, shifting political situations, and the traditions of their adopted country, they really drew the line at food.

It made me think about the fact that everything I do in my everyday life is embraced from the culture that my parents had immigrated to. They sacrificed everything in their motherland so that their children could have more opportunities than they had back in their country.

I finally came to terms with myself that the food I eat is still something that my parents have from their home country that will forever be cherished in our family.

My parents saw that there were more opportunities in the United States. Leaving India, and all that they had known was strenuous, but still made the sacrifice for their children, whom I am one. They took the risk of coming to the United States. I am thankful for many reasons, but particularly this one. And I can’t think of a way to repay them for the sacrifice they made than take the advantage of things that have come before me and those to come.

I think most of people have some memories of their childhood and same goes to me. But the number of recollections varies enormously. I do remember some parts in my childhood events, but definitely not all, not even most, not even half. I rather say we remember mostly fragments. I do believe that not only depends on simply how good our memory system is, but there seems to be other factors such as: our blocking information, the frequency with which we recall childhood events, and the availability of triggers. Example for my situation is, whenever I see Saraca asoca flowers, inevitably recollections of my grandmother’s garden come to my mind. It is because every time I go back to my grandmother’s hometown when I was a child, I would pick that flower and taste it. I told my granny the flowers were delicious because it has honey in it. So, basically, that’s how it works with my memories. What I realize is these are not something that I make an effort to recall, but rather the images automatically flood my awareness. I’m sure most of us have similar experiences but in different situation.

Other than that, as for myself, since I was in primary school, I loves to bought and collect diary books and write most my private thought, everyday life events and some other random and cringe stuff. I loves to decorates my diaries as well with stickers, or I draw a picture of heart, flowers and all that just to make my diaries look cute and fabulous. Until now, I still kept all my childhood diaries collections and not a single one of them are missing because it gives such memories of my childhood life. I loves keeping these things because it’s a sentimental value to me and all the memories that are filled in those diaries and memorable things I kept from the past. It helps me a lot in recalling back my childhood life events. Fun fact of me, I am really good in taking care of my belonging since little. Thanks to my mom for the good parenting style.

Here’s another story of mine that’s quite funny to tell and that makes me feel like a weird kid just because of that. We still bring it on as a joke in my family until now. As far as I remember, when I was at the age of 2-3 something, if I’m not mistaken. I’m not really remember how old I am at that time. Anytime my parents take me out in the mall or anywhere, whenever I see the figure of this Ronald McDonald in front of their certain fast-food franchise, I’ll probably be freaking out and crying. I’m just simply hiding behind my parents. I was still a child at the time so what to expect then right? Just for me what I know, the figurine looks horrible, creepy and I’m very scared by that face. My parents tried to explained to me that it was just a clown figure who was meant primarily to market to children, but it’s clearly not working for me. I am more likely to be afraid on clowns like Ronald McDonald than delighted by them. My parents understand my feelings and my situation as a kid and try not to take me past the McDonald’s store after. There is one photo of me staring at that clown figure with great fear and feel terrified at the same time, so at least that moment is captured as a memory of my childhood. Thanks to my uncle for taking that picture. For extra info, the last time I’ll check McDonald already retired their (creepy) clown mascot out of the spotlight because it became increasingly problematic to children and caused bad publicity to their branding. It’s starting to make sense now I guess. I would definitely include that picture in this journal.

I also remember my first bike memories. I can’t remember a single thing about it except that (in the pre-balance bike style of the times). My dad told me that as far as he can remember, I got my first 3-wheel plastic push along, balance bikes and tricycle on my 4 fourth birthday. It is for the preparation and helped me learn a pedal bike more easily as I already learned balance and gained pedal strength and technique. I begin with the stabilizers before, one momentous day, my dad removed them. I can recall the thrill of freewheeling down a steep slope on our lawn shortly afterwards. The enjoyed was tempered when, in my excitement, I rode over a treasured plastic bow and arrow set, snapping the bow. However, I start to learning to ride a pedal bike at the age of 6 if I’m not mistaken. I still remember my confidence, pride and self-esteem that comes from a sense of accomplishment on that time when I was already able to ride pedal break with my own.

People have different memories of their childhood, these were mine.

Father means my creator. I am solely dependent on my father financially. But, as soon as I want to become his supporter. Generally, one thing happens to me nowadays, whenever my father has late to return home in the evening. Then, my heartbeat is extremely quick for my father. Like, I reckon to call him, then he stood his bike within seconds inside the house. I think ‘What’s coincidence! Think about him and he is present inside the home within seconds’. I say thank you to God, papa has arrived house. My father does not feel that his daughter is an extraordinarily caring girl for us. Because I never notify him of my love for him. I care about my parents, but I do not like to show off. But in this essay, I want to share one moment in which the chain is attached to my life.

When I was 9-10 years old, that moment transpired in my life. We were receding to our residence. We all, mum, sister, and brother, seat inside the bus and my father went to fill water-bottle. He was out of the bus. The bus motorist had begun the bus and the conductor was screaming people from inside the bus. The bus driver was forwarding his hand to use a break. As soon as I started crying. I was saying to the driver “Uncle! Please pause the bus, my father is out”. I repeat this line many times, but nobody listened to me because there was a lot of loud sound of horns. My mother also was watching me and asked me “Why are you crying?”. I replied to her: “Papa yet is out from the bus, and the bus is ready to run”. The mother relaxed and silenced me by saying these lines: “The bus will not leave your father here”.

After 25 minutes my father was present inside the bus. And my mother asked him” “Where did you go? Your daughter started crying when the bus started. With great difficulty silenced her”. Now, father asked my mother: “Why did she start to cry?”. My mother replied: “The bus was ready to move”. After that, they both stared at me and laughed. I also laughed at seeing their behavior like this. My heart also got cold. Now, the bus was running and we were enjoying seeing exterior vehicles, shops, malls, flats, parks, etc. from the window of the bus.

A strong bond should be with parents. Then, they can read your heart without saying any words from your side. This moment is too enough to show my love and affection for my father. I will never forget this.

In this way, I tried to show my love for my father. My father is everything to me. He gives me everything whatever I want. His nature is very calm. From the face, he is strict, but from the heart, he is very soft. I love him so much. Maybe I must have done some good deeds in my past life, that’s why today I have got lovely parents. They teach us good things. They alert us to bad things. They don’t deny anything. They hate liars. My father is too punctual. Whenever he does anything then, he uses his sense. He does not feel comfortable with others. He is not a greedy person.

I thank God who gave me a guiding, aware, caring, and adoring father. Periodically, he with my mum tutor me for the best things like in studies, ‘What will be best if you will do this?’. They advise me about the scope of the job, ‘Where can I get the job?’. In a way, I can say that they are my artery, where I will roll step by step by following their recommendation and accomplishing my life goals.

As I held a book with a worn green cover, prominently labeled ‘Secret! Do not open!’ and filled with pages of chicken scratches and crude sketches, memories rushed back of the many evenings I spent diligently writing in my childhood diary.

I kept a diary from mid-elementary school up until early high school, filling almost eight complete volumes. Yet rereading my old diary entries, I often ask myself: ‘Why, exactly, did I decide to keep a diary? What had I hoped to gain from this? My earliest diary entries were more a type of lifeless accounting. I chronicled only the mundane details of day-to-day life, such as what time I woke up or what I ate for lunch, while omitting any hint of introspection. This frustrates me, and I want to ask my past self, ‘But why did you write this down?’ or ‘How did you feel about this?’. The truth is, at the time, I was afraid of forgetting things. If I didn’t write it down, how would I know in ten years that I had eaten a burrito for lunch? My diary was, in a way, proof that I existed. However, my favorite entries come from my mid-diary writing career. Inspired by books such as ‘Diary of a Wimpy Kid’, ‘Dear Dumb Diary’, and ‘Anne of Green Gables’, I started infusing more emotional depth into my writing. I love reading my entries from this period because some of them are absurdly hilarious. For instance, one of my entries finishes with the declaration “I will never ever ever ever ever talk to [person] ever again!”, with each ‘ever’ spanning an entire page, yet the very next entry begins with “So [person] and I made up today”. I also gradually discovered the cathartic function of writing: I would write purely to vent my emotions. However, the result was an endless chain of pessimistic entries in which I would gloss over anything positive because it simply wasn’t worth venting about.

I often like to reflect on how my habit of keeping a diary has affected me today. When I was younger, keeping a diary helped foster my interest in writing and reading. It also was a source of enjoyment for me, not only because I was able to destress and release negative emotions, but also because there is a certain thrill in putting your secret opinions on paper. Today, rereading my diary is a humbling experience, which genuinely changes my perception of myself. I am always surprised by my character development throughout the pages, though I am simultaneously horrified by how immature and senseless I sometimes sound. It helps me recognize my flaws which I can only see clearly by putting time between my past and present self. At the same time, my diary gives me hope that I will continue to grow, and that someday I will look back at today’s diary entries and feel the same embarrassment as I do now when I read my childhood diary.

Life Is Nothing Short of a Game

I have always been of a sporty kind since my childhood. I loved playing both indoor and outdoor games. I was very much drawn to numerous indoor board games as compared to outdoor ones since choices were both limited and costly to play full-fledged outdoor games. I observed that there was an uncanny predictability to all these games. Pick any indoor or outdoor game of your choice, “Whichever team or a person who starts on a winning note had higher chances of winning the game eventually”. Please do not get me wrong, I am not making fun of anybody’s situation, and nor I am discouraging you. All I am trying to tell you is that “An early bird gets the prize” or simply put “If you start early you have already won half the race be it in life or the game”. Let me share a few examples from my own experience. Since my childhood, I loved playing “Chess, Carom board, Monopoly / Business, and other Board games and at the same time I was equally drawn to outdoor games as well”. While each of these games is different from the others, yet they all have an underlying predictable pattern of winning and losing, which I am explaining as a layman for your better understanding. Chess I was introduced to the game by my classmate early in my childhood when I was in 3rd Standard. I would meet him in the evenings after school in the Colony Park to play. Whenever I visited his house he would lay the Chessboard for us to play, I found it hard to understand the game initially. After having understood the rules and nuances of the game, I picked it up in no time and went on to play much better than him. My winning strategy at that age was quite simple, covering my major pieces like “Queen, Rook, Knight and

Bishop” and looking for opponents exposed venerable pieces and weak openings, taking material advantage by exchanging opponents’ major pieces and exploiting their open positions and simply keeping the material advantage intact right till the end where my opponent was left with no major and minor pieces to defend his King. Even now as an adult, I still apply the same strategy successfully to overcome most of my opponents. Carom board The Carom board was rather easy to grasp. My parents presented me with one almost at the same time when I was introduced to Chess. Although more of a skill game rather than a mind game, it required skill to spot clear pieces that can be hit with the Striker, to be captured in the hole ensuring no other undesired piece comes in its way. Here too, all opponents being equal in caliber and skill sets, the winner was almost decided by who captures or wins the first few carom pieces. Each time a piece is captured, the player is presented with another chance of a free strike. Simply put, one successful strike leads the player to a free strike, an open opportunity to make another successful attempt thereby increasing his/ her chances significantly to win the game. Monopoly / Business Monopoly / Business too is a peculiar game of strategy and chance. Initially, not knowing the rules thoroughly, I would lose miserably. Each player starts with a fixed amount, each player taking a turn by moving several spaces as per numbers on the dice thrown. As you move spaces, the game opens with opportunities to either invest on sites or earn when you land on particular spaces by way of profits in business/ lottery/ tax refunds/ dividends/ winning of contests, etc, simultaneously the game also exposes the player with losses like paying for unforeseen expenses by way of paying rental of sites owned by other players or by expenses incurred out of losses in business/ fees/ maintenance or simply losing a few turns etc.

The player who manages first to invest in three same-colored sites which doubled their rental income as a rule and earns a few such rentals early in the game as always is the likely winner in the end or at least will never be out of money/ game. Football Although outdoor sports, while playing with friends in the colony, here too the winning team was somewhat determined from the very start while dividing the players and even before hitting the ball by simply comparing who had more active dribblers in their team. As common sense, they invariably ended up having the football most of the time in the game, they also had more chances to strike the other team’s goalpost to convert into the goal and also by default were the better strikers and had better goal-scoring average than the other team and they even proved to be better defenders too. While the other team would simply be in a defensive mode all the time. Cricket I was never a good player of Cricket, yet I enjoyed thoroughly participating and played as a tail-ender who could neither bat nor ball well, all I did well was run to save some boundaries. Although I had little say or influence in the game but was pretty good at arriving at the outcome in advance by simply comparing which team comprised of more all-round players, who were not only good at batting or bowling but were good fielders as well. As an observation, such teams won more matches on average as they would always have better run rates while batting, scored more boundaries, and while fielding would effectively defend boundaries, and take wickets through catches, and tight fielding as well. No matter how many more games I may end up mentioning they all have an underlying pattern of winning and losing. The whole idea of elaborating my observation to all my readers is that “Winning in the game or life requires a right strategy and whether you like it or not, there is an underlying pattern that governs our life based on our own repeated actions which are creating, either a winning or a losing pattern or a situation”.

Welcome to Reality

All I want from you is to realize and understand the hard and blunt reality. I am not going to be soft on this. The society at large where we live is the playground that has its own set of rules what we call the “law of the land” just like in any other game we play. We as individuals are players and all of us are every day in and day out with our repeated legitimate actions accepted in the Society and that we deem fit, trying to figure out to achieve the most desirable stable configuration in life. It applies to all of us, all the time, every time, wherever we are, no matter how much we ignore or try to dismiss or avoid it. Our today’s position or situation is a collective total of our repeated actions as well as our parents, and forefathers to an extent in the past. Some positions or situations are an outcome of the inheritance of actions of parents and forefathers over which we have little control. We at the same time are also blessed with an opportunity to influence and improve on all the faculties/priorities/aspects of life with our actions. Based on the above observation. There is a direct and implied message for all. a. That we are living in a ruthless society. It has its effects and bearing on all of us. b. Society at large is neither kind nor cruel. Simply put, it is cold and logical. c. We as individuals are required to make efforts through our legitimate actions in pursuit of our stability. d. There are no shortcuts. Each one of us individually has to work our way out of it. e. Society only acknowledges “winners”. f. Nobody, except you, has to make all the effort. You would at best, come across well-wishers only to guide you. g. No one is concerned about your success or failure, as others too are busy trying to figure out their success formulae.

It was finalized. We were moving. My heart dropped when I heard this news. What was better than moving away from your childhood home? Nothing. Those were my exact thoughts as my parents tried to explain why we had to move. I listened to my parents and nodded while my heart broke into a thousand pieces. I didn’t want to leave the place I grew up in. The place that holds all of my childhood memories is its heart. My heart started aching when I thought about all the things I’d be leaving behind. I didn’t want anything to change. I felt like everything was slipping away faster than I thought like grains of sand slipping through my fingers.

I decided to go down and spend a few moments alone. As I stumbled down the stairs, I didn’t even remember where we were moving to; all I knew was that it was my home we were now moving. I know it sounds pretty selfish but hear me out. I thought of all the friends I would be leaving behind, and I couldn’t even bear to think back to all of the memories I had and all of the ones I thought I would make with them. I walked out of the elevator and felt the cool afternoon breeze welcome me. I sat down on the poolside and dipped my feet into the cool, still water. I thought about all the times I laughed and cried in this place. I thought about how this was my first everything. My first school, my first time riding a bike, my first friends, my first home. So much of my identity was built into this place and now we’re leaving all of this behind. This place shaped me and my personality and it made me who I am today.

On the morning we left, my father picked me and my brother up from our beds and gently laid us down on the back seat of the taxi. He never woke us up, knowing that I would cry at the airport. I thought about my best friend, Delfina, as we waited to board the plane. I had promised her I would never forget her. But I fear that if I ever moved, I would forget. I was afraid of losing memories. I feared that if I just looked away for a second, I would lose my most precious memories. I never wanted to lose the memory of Delfina’s face whenever she laughed at my jokes or the feeling of happiness when I finally arrived at my first school. I feared most of all that I would forget who I was. That once the memories had passed, a piece of me would disappear. I thought that perhaps with every place I left, an irreplaceable part of me would also be left behind.

The passengers began boarding the plane, and I looked out of the tiny airplane window. I felt like crying. Well more like how sometimes you want to cry, but do not cry. Maybe a few tears are shed, but you mostly just choke up. I felt tears welling up in my eyes and I looked up and tried to blink them away but they just kept on overflowing as if someone kept on pouring water into a cup and just didn’t stop so all the water was spilling out and you couldn’t even control it.

The plane was about to take off and I felt all of the memories flashback in my head no longer than half a second. I covered my face with the palms of my hand and started to cry. I didn’t care if people were staring at me or even if I was too loud. The only thing I could think of was how there would be a 99.9% chance I’d never see my friends here again.

I sat back up and straightened my back and clenched my fists in my hand. I felt my dad’s hand on my shoulder and I ignored it. “Sometimes, change is good,” he said. He told me his favorite quote was “If you don’t like something change it; if you can’t change it, change the way you think about it” by Mary Engelbreit. I thought about this for a second. Deep down I knew we couldn’t stay here because of my dad’s job. I thought of how I could think of this new place in a new, better perspective. If we’re moving, we’re probably moving because there are better opportunities there that we don’t have here. “You have to learn how to adapt to change,” he paused. “It’s something which we all have to do.”

I realized that I will have many times in the future when I have to be able to adapt to the new changes waiting ahead of me. I thought to myself, this isn’t THAT bad!

A majority of my childhood was spent with my mother, she was lucky enough to be a stay-at-home mom throughout my childhood. On the other hand, my father had a very high-stress job that required him to travel and spend long days at the office. I remember him coming home from work and instead of relaxing, he was uptight and on edge. When I was in middle school, he got a new job that allowed him to work from home and we were able to spend more time together. Our relationship has never been perfect and to this day we are still working on it. I think his work took a lot of time away from creating a bond with me as I have with my mom. Although I was not included in this setting, his workplace still had effects on my overall growth and development, this is an example of an exosystem.

Growing up as an only child was difficult, not having other children in my immediate family to interact and grow with was challenging. Up until high school, I was very shy and had a hard time making friends. Not until this class did I realize that my unwillingness to speak up and initiate conversation might be because I grew up as an only child. I have always been uncomfortable in chaotic and loud settings because I grew up in a quiet household with just my mom, my dad, and me. I remember going over to friends’ houses who had multiple siblings and not truly understanding how to play and interact normally. You could explain this challenge I faced as a missing microsystem. I had a supportive immediate family, however, I was missing the sibling factor.

With my mom being able to stay home with me during my childhood, she was also able to chaperone every school field trip I attended. Again, being an only child, I had difficulties making friends and talking to other kids my age. I believe having my mom with me during those field trips helped me grow the most; I had the comfort of knowing she was with me, but also her encouragement to interact with my schoolmates. The interaction between her and my school is a prime example of a mesosystem. If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve isolated myself instead of learning how to make friends.

My parents worked extremely hard to make sure I had a childhood I would remember. With all of their resources, my childhood memories were filled with road trips, vacations, camping, skiing, and adventures. I am incredibly grateful I got to experience all of the things I did as a child. Being exposed to different environments and experiencing new things positively impacted my cognitive development. I was able to learn about myself and begin to get a better idea of what I enjoyed in life. My parents’ resources are an example of a macrosystem, without these resources, I would have never experienced as much as I have to this day.

I don’t know if I can call myself resilient, I have never faced major challenges or threats like some children have while growing up. I grew up in a great neighborhood, went to an amazing school, and had the most supportive parents and family. I believe that I am resilient when talking about being an only child, I adapted to that lifestyle with the help of my mom. I could have isolated myself socially and been a completely different person than who I am today. Instead, my mom helped me come out of my shell and showed me that making friends wasn’t too bad.

“Memories seem to make or break people. They seem to bring out the most vivid emotions in people and can bring out the best and worst.” Memories can make us happy or sad people, some leave us with our battle scars and make us sometimes even want to forget about the entire situation. But some bring memories we hold for life close to our hearts so we can hope to bring other’s memories similar.

I have a memory of meeting my grandmother from my father’s side for the first time.

I was young probably 3 and I had never met my grandmother before (except for when I was born but I don’t remember that of course). I was 3 and she wanted me and my brother to stay the night at her house but I didn’t know who she was. I was crying and screaming because of the fact I had no idea who she was. My mother had to introduce us because I couldn’t remember who she was and I didn’t even know I didn’t have a grandmother on my father’s side of the family.

The next memory I had of my grandmother was 5 years old and it was a pleasant one. I remember she had taken me and my brother to get ice cream and it had a very weird flavor called “Superman” which pretty much was the birthday cake flavor. I had just started school and she asked plenty of questions about how my school and teachers were. It was one of my more pleasant memories because I felt genuine happiness to see her again and I thought I could reconnect with her.

The last time I ever visited my grandmother I was 7 and having a hard time. I was having issues with bullying and it was very easy to get upset due to it. My brother would make fun of me in the big brother way but instead of laughing or just ignoring him, I argued with him. We were walking with my grandmother and the air felt cold, my eyes and cheeks were hot from arguing and being upset for so long and my eyes began to tear up. My grandmother yelled for us both to stop, It fell silent and I felt guilty, all she wanted was to spend time with her grandsons.

I never saw my grandmother again. She would send birthday cards and I collected them just to make due. The memories of my grandmother were not negative, She was a part of my childhood and my youth. I faintly remember these but the ones I do remember I hold to fondly the memories I was able to share with her. For years I thought she didn’t love me anymore because of that argument that she hated me and never wanted to see me again. She died when I was 9 and at the time I could not properly mourn her passing. I cringed at the idea she hated me with all of her heart. Years later I was talking to my aunt on my father’s side and she told me about how my grandmother would positively talk about me and how she loved me she could just never make time for me. I didn’t look back on those memories with my grandmother until recently and I feel terrible for looking at my grandmother as someone who just didn’t care when she influenced me in my days of youth. Growing up I was very angry at the world and upset because it seemed I was at the end of every joke, Lost everyone and felt unwanted and it shaped who I am because I now try to treat people with kindness and help where I can as well as try to befriend lonely people. My memories have made me the person I am, whether good or bad doesn’t matter they have shaped the person I have grown up to become.

While growing up I realize that there are so many memories left in the past, so much that we did not pay attention to, so many moments that we had taken for granted. When my grandmother died last summer, it was the point of realization for me on how quickly life and time change. We do not realize the worth of moments that we are currently living in, how precious every memory is and how valuable is every moment we spend with those we love.

When I was young, my Grandparents had a farmhouse in the countryside, which they still have. This farmhouse is where I spent most of my childhood and had the best moments of my life. I remember spending every summer with my grandparents and my siblings living how country folks lived, growing food, working the land, co-existing with farm animals, and caring for them. The farmhouse was big, painted blue because it was grandma’s favorite color, it had a white fence big enough for the chickens not to fly over it but not too big that you were not able to see the road. There were flowers of every color, my grandma loved flowers, and trees everywhere in the front of the house, and towards the backyard was a field big enough to play baseball filled with all kinds of fruit trees like mangoes, pears, and grapefruit. There was also a big lake and grandma washed clothes in, and we used to dive in during the hot summer days. Every day will begin with the loud rooster crowing and the sweet smell of coffee before the sun is even out. Grandma will wake up before sunrise to make breakfast for all of us, feed the chickens and the pigs, and milk the Sally cow.

Grandma would make fresh pancakes with fruits and fresh nectar juice for us, it was like little drops of heaven. After having our breakfast, we would help grandma with the house chores, cleaning, sweeping, mopping, and washing dishes then, used to run out on the huge lawn in the farmhouse and play with the animals, feed them, bathe them, and enjoy playing with them. After having fun with the animals, we used to climb up the trees and pluck the fruits. Mangoes, apples, grapefruits, pears, and bringing them back to the farmhouse where grandma and grandpa taught us how to make jams, jellies, and marmalades, and the leftover fruits, were used to make juices. After we finish feeding the animals, fruit picking and then making the jams, we will head to the lake where we will zip line from one side to the other, swim, dive, and play games. I still remember grandma and grandpa used to watch us play while enjoying their tea. At the end of the day, we will sit down by the lake to enjoy the most majestic sunsets ever seen. The sun will set towards the lake making the water appear bright brown, almost as if it was honey and the sky will have a reddish almost like fire color, it was such a breathtaking view that once you saw it, no scene could be more beautiful for you.

On our recent visit here, we again relived all the memories we had as kids except, Grandma was not there anymore. We missed her a lot, no one said so, but deep down we all knew everyone was acknowledging her absence. Grandpa, until now, does not let anyone sit on Grandma’s chair, though Grandpa tries his best that we never feel Grandma’s absence. He presented us with pancakes made my grandma’s exclusive recipe and the fresh nectar we all loved so much. It was so tasty and sticky, pure and thick, no other drink or beer could beat fresh juice from the countryside. After having breakfast, to relive the childhood memories, we again went out and played on the ground as if we were still a bunch of 6 years old when we were actually in our twenties. The swings were not the same, the ropes were worn out and the board we sat on was cracked. Nonetheless, I sat and swung the whole evening, looking at the sunset as I did when I was a child and I looked at the sunset, it made me sad because I missed grandma.

The day ended with Grandpa cooking dinner. Never did I say this before but grandpa used to cook better than my mother and grandma combined. The dinner table was full of all kinds of food, pork chops, fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, sweet potato pie, and green salad while we laughed and cracked jokes, we felt Grandma’s absence, but we could also feel the love we have for one another. I miss those moments, and I hold on to them like a precious jewel for they will never come back. Memories like this are sort of like an antidepressant, they will bring you so much joy. One must treasure the time spent with the family and create as many memories as we can for once the time is gone, it will never come back.

Chana Chaikin

Sociology

Impact of Disney Movies

Growing up I watched a lot of Disney movies. We primarily only watched Jewish media, except Disney movies, as my parents felt that many of the film’s themes had valuable lessons for us to learn. Disney movies were a big part of my childhood. I grew up admiring the life of Cinderella, Belle, Rapunzel, and Sleeping Beauty, who all seemed to be redeemed from their struggles by Prince Charming.

First and foremost Disney movies always meant family time for me. It was when we all got together and no matter what enjoyed the film as a family. When we had movie nights, we all put our private cellphones or game-boys away and enjoyed quality time together. This taught me the importance of family and the value of quality time.

The first thing I think of when reflecting on the impact the Disney films had on me, is how I took everything that I watched on the screen literally. As a child, I did not understand the concept of fictional life and characters. I saw the film at face value and never questioned what I was watching. I learned to idolize the seemingly perfect lives of princesses in the “happily ever after” movie endings.

The films had an impact on my view of gender roles and identity. My idea of what a girl was supposed to look like was a princess, with a pretty dress and long blonde hair. The plotline of the majority of the movies was female as a damsel in distress, who desperately sought the rescue of a strong, handsome man. This ingrained the stereotype of women as being weak and dependent on men. At a young age, when I played dress-up with my friends I remember dressing up and trying to imitate the characters of the Disney princesses we watched.

While there were negative effects of the Disney films I watched, I learned some valuable lessons from the central theme of a lot of films. For example, they taught me to believe in a greater picture. That everything does turn out ok in the end. This gave me the courage to persevere. Disney’s moves taught me about the strength of standing up for myself and about true friendship, and love. Each movie had different unique messages. One of my favorite Disney movies, Beauty and the Beast, taught me the valuable lesson of not judging one by their outer appearance and valuing our insides and that true beauty comes from within.

Disney movies had a huge influence on my imagination. I learned a lot about people and socialization from the characters and storylines. In some ways, Disney movies shaped some of my beliefs and values from a very young age.