I've been experiencing a peculiar phenomenon of late that I'm going to call "second-hand nostalgia." It starts like this: HR is really into the idea of going to Story Land, an amusement park in New Hampshire that I went to approximately 5000 times in my youth. God I loved me some Story Land. Every time I knew we were going, I would never get any sleep the night before. I actually haven't grown out of that trait of being unable to sleep when I'm excited about something. I seems to run in the family. But anyway, I would love to take HR there, I think he's the perfect age to experience the wonder and we'll find a way to make the trip next summer for sure. Looking at the map of the park really reinforces my position in adulthood, I'm floored by how small it seems, so simple, when I was a kid it was sprawling and endless. I know that somebody owns that land, someone maintains it. It didn't just sprout from a pumpkin seed. But back then it was wild and magical, and I really want that interpretation for my kid.
HR lives in the computer age, which means he can feed his fascination with the place by asking us to go on the park's website as well as google images. Facebook also provides a wealth of photos, with people tagging the park in old and new shots. And that's really the part that gets me. The pictures of contemporary kids losing their minds with happiness are infectious and I love them and seeing the changes that have been made since I was last there (25 years ago? How do I remember it so clearly?) is cool but what truly gets me are the pictures now-adults link from their youth, particularly ones with their parents and grandparents. Sometimes the captions let you know these people have passed on, sometimes you just assume. I don't know those people, and it should mean anything to me. But it breaks your heart, the fleetingness of life. One day you're posing with your grandchild on your lap in front of the ill-advised Sambo merry-go-round (now removed, thankfully), cigarette burning devil-may-care between your fingers, then you're gone and a future stranger is looking at you through her future device and bawling her eyes out as quietly as she can so the three-year-old in her lap doesn't notice. Fun for the whole family!
The closed for the season this week, and they posted this picture on their FB page.
Can you guess how that made me feel? These mascots who should actually carry no significance because I've never seen them there-- who is this fuzzy, lovable Humpty-Dumpty? The one in my day was creepy and bolted to a wall and we liked it that way. But it's what it symbolizes. Someday this will be HR's own memory. And I'm already yearning in his stead. Time to sign off, crazy lady.
I think the old Humpty is still there - at least he was when we brought the boys. I think you'll be surprised at how little has changed
Posted by: SE | 10/17/2013 at 09:50 PM