Feeding Young Minds

Scarcely a day goes by in these times that we don't hear something about foodbanks.  On one hand they are a very good thing: they provide an essential lifeline for families or individuals who find themselves unable to cope with the basic necessities of normal life.  On the other hand they are a bad thing, since their very existence is a condemnation of the social and economic structure that has led to this situation in the first place.  Had the nation's affairs been better managed, there would be no need for foodbanks at all.

However, we are where we are.  For centuries there have been two distinct classes in our society: the haves and the have-nots.  The rebellion led by Robert Kett in July & August of 1549 features prominently in the history of my native Norfolk and, nationally, what schoolboy hasn't heard of Wat Tyler and the Peasant's revolt of June, 1381?  (I wonder, though, whether that features in today's curriculum.)

As the son of a farm worker, I grew up very much aware of being one of the 'have-nots'.  I remember at primary school the acute embarrassment when, having passed the pre-requisite hearing test, I had to report that my mother couldn't afford the few pence that would enable me to have violin lessons.  Little more than a decade later came the shock of discovering that, only a year or so out of school, I was earning - or at least getting paid! - more than my father.

In later years, as I drew towards retirement after having been at work almost constantly, as one situation had followed another, for all but a few weeks of my adult life, I came to realise that there was now a new underclass, who were much worse off than me.  It placed upon me a responsibility that I had been given no idea how to deal with.

From time to time, since I started writing these pieces, I've drawn upon my dreams for inspiration.  I'm firmly of the opinion that, as the mind unwinds during our sleeping hours, it throws together random thoughts, people and instances from a wide variety of times in our past, from childhood to yesterday.  The juxtaposition of these snippets can provide some quite bizarre 'stories' that are usually beyond our complete recall upon waking.

Sometimes, I remember two faces that I've known years and miles apart appearing in the same 'scene'.  On other occasions, I might call to mind a complete act of the night's nonsense play, although, in reciting it to myself, I'm aware that I've incorporated a waking link to make 'sense' of the whole thing; and I've lost count of the times when it seems quite clear that I've visited some fictitious place before and know what is - or isn't - round a corner or through a door.

In my 'dream theatre' the other night, I found myself at some kind of children's party.  I had been engaged by the parents to bring along the presents that they had provided, rather like Santa Claus (although there was neither sight nor sense of a white-trimmed red cloak).  After the party, I tried to load the contents of those presents back into the car.  But now, of course, they had all been unwrapped, played with and, in some cases, broken, and they would no longer fit into the same space.  I had to remove those in the worst condition and throw them away, sensing the possible disappointment of some of the children as a result.

I don't hold to the theory that dreams are always 'sent' to inform us of something important; but sometimes I find that the thoughts evoked by their recollection can lead to something positive and maybe helpful.  In this case, I was aware that the parents had spent a fortune on the presents while, once the children had satisfied their curiosity about what was inside, they didn't appreciate the toys and had swiftly moved on to investigate the next parcel.

I have little to do with children in my waking life.  Nevertheless, I believe that many of the families who 'have' (going back to the introductory thoughts above), spend sums on their children that are extravagant and can appear to be unlimited, with the result that the young ones grow up with a range of unreal expectations.  When, as young adults, they discover that they can't have every last thing they desire, this realisation causes a variety of social problems.  It's better, perhaps, for such loving parents to express that love not in physical possessions but in providing their children with attitudes and strategies that will enable them to deal wisely and generously with the real world that they will later find surrounding them.

(Written with apologies and acknowledgement that many parents are already doing this!)