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The stories of our days.

Some of the stories in this thread must be a real eye-opener to those of us who were lucky to have a more comfortable childhood. They certainly are to me. They sound more like the world of Kathleen Dayus and from them one learns that the conditions and circumstances she witnessed lasted here and there for a further 30, 40 or even 50 years. We have the privilege of reading important pieces of social history as well as remarkable personal reminiscences. Thanks for them and let’s hope that with the help of this forum they last a long, long time.

How do I put this tactfully? Well, I’m a pedantic old wotsit and like to put things into their historical context. Perhaps I’m in a minority of one over this. Very often in reminiscences of this type throughout the birminghamhistory forum, the period which is being referred to is clear, from the context or even quoted dates, as is mainly the case in this thread. But sometimes one reads something quite incredible and then one wonders – was this 1935 or was it 1960? Perhaps it doesn’t really matter. But if the contributor can remember to make it clear, then the longer term historical value of the piece is even greater.

Chris
 
I must have missed reading this thread when it was first started. Like others here I think that this is a very poignant insight into the times and to some degree many of us will recognize the happenings. I do not personally despair with the destruction of most of the area. Certainly burned in childhood memories have become only that but it is possible that we retain at the front of these memories, the good ones; the ones we feel most comfortable with. Finding someone’s mom hanging from a banister and the reaction of the child is not easily shoved to the back, I know, but this kind of thing to a lesser degree can be. We were children and because we knew no better, simple things impressed and delighted. Rightly so. We made our own bows and arrows. Arrows from someone’s little private hedge, probably, and fought the hordes from the neighboring street across the bombed buildings sight. Not thinking at all about the people that had died on the ground under foot. These things, as stated, are burned into memory but should not be paramount in our minds. Memories of a lost past can be miserable place to be. A place that I am sure that most of our parents would not want us to visit, even if only in our minds. For the most part I do not despair at the loss of the dreary row and back to back, coal burning, butt freezing, houses of my youth. The mind numbing sameness of form remembered in sepia tones now, as I think I read here. Just thinking about it I can smell the smoky air. Certainly there were a few places that were pleasant and lifted our spirits and these places are missed but for the most part this was not the case. What I find disappointing is that, what replaced the old buildings is not seemingly an improvement for the soul. I have to say that for the large part this is a statement made from a distance but is also based on what I read here.
It’s time to move on in our thoughts. I think that contemplating accomplishments in our lives is a far more up-lifting activity. The accomplishments yet to come are intriguing. I have not finished yet. What the heck did I do with my screwdriver.
 
Charlie tells us of a mother who disappeared.....

My brother, sister and I had a mother. But never a grandmother. We were somewhat envious of those of our friends who did as they had an extra person to remember their birthdays.

Our father’s mother died young in 1918 whilst he was in the Army . Our mother’s mother died even earlier when my mother who had been born in 1899 was three or four. She was sent off from her home in 10 Court 5, Great Colmore Street to be brought up by her grandmother, her dad’s mother, who lived in leafy Knowle. (She's below, a year or two later). The circumstances of her own mother’s passing were never known to us but the death seemed to have occurred at around the time of the birth of a younger sister in 1902 and so I always put it down as being due to childbirth. (Other siblings were a brother, b. 1894 who died aged two in 1896 from pneumonia and a sister b. 1901 who died, again aged two, from "Shock following Head Injuries" after being run over by a cart. Those were indeed the days).

And so the three of us grew up grandmotherless. My mother died in 1995 at the age of 96, the circumstances of her earliest days not appearing to have caused too much damage. At around that time my brother had taken up genealogical research as a hobby. It wasn’t long before he found our grandmother’s death certificate and was more than mildly surprised to note that it was dated 1945.

The questions then arose. Did my mother know this all along? Did she swallow a story fed to her by her grandmother and believe it all her life? Or did she persist, for one reason or another, with a story she knew to be untrue? And if so, why? It took a year or two to find out. But then one day I pitched up on the door step of a lovely lady who was the daughter of the younger sister. I was told that her/my grandmother had lived with that family throughout. Did my mother know? Oh yes, of course she did, she used to come and visit a couple of times a year throughout the 1930s – and here is a Christmas present she brought one year. I looked at a 1930s salad bowl, shaped like a large lettuce leaf and still in use.

But as for why…. I suppose marital break-up was such a dreadful thing to occur at that time, particularly if the wife was regarded as being at fault, so that the person concerned became a non-person. But the tragedy of the break-up following the loss of those infants (neither party ever remarried), the way a secret like that can be kept for a lifetime, and what feelings and unhappiness lie behind the maintaining of such a pretence, even with one’s own children, by such a good person, I still find impossible to comprehend and infinitely sad.

Chris
 
ChrisM as the main contributers on this thread have wrote so much on the forum and about the timescale in other posts it just seems natural not to keep repeating it....
Les, Pom & Me grew up in Nechells from about 1944 till it was demolished in the 60's It molded me for what I am today and I have seen things and done things folk can only dream about.........I help folk all I can because I never had a chance to till Nechells was demolished I forged ahead and was heading for a life of crime till I met the girl of my dreams who I have been happily married to for 43 years and not once have I strayed (how many people can honestly say that) In life you can trust a thief but you can never trust a liar.........What our Ma instilled in us was "You can do what you want in this life if you are determined enough and achieve all your aims"
If I died tomorrow I can honestly say I have had a great life and done everything I wanted to, and been everywhere I wanted to...not many folk have the health wealth or luck etc. to say that....Thats what I have to thank Nechells for ....watching Tom Mix riding across the plains and saying to myself ....one day I am going to do that ..Watching Sitting Bull in an Indian village and saying one day I will be in an Indian Village ..I have done it all ...reading books and thinking ..I am going their ...and going Up the Nile in Indian Jungles and riding the range from climbing mountains to diving under the sea, flying in Choppers out to the rigs in the North Sea.... I have had a great life
Nechells taught me a lot and I learned a lot from Nechells and I am proud to be a Nechells Kid with all the suffering I saw and took, but their again I was poorer than most kids cause some of them had tablecloths and d'aint have to put cardboard in their shoes like I did
Life has been Wonderful and I have more riches than I could ever dream of "The Love of My Wonderful Wife"
 
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I love reading about the things of yesteryear and people's lives.I suppose some would say the good old days are good old days because they have come and gone.Yet they are part of our whole.

I see my children/Grand Children who have privilidges that were impossible for us to have as children.The young people travel all over the world today with a backpack and visit far off countries.Thialand/Vietnam are the favourites at this time.Their cell phones/mobiles ,make them never alone.

I have to wonder,if they belong to such as this what their comments/memories will be.:)
As well as looking back,I wish I could look forward.But then I ask too much.
Keep the stories coming.
 
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