Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The Disease of Nostalgia
Going against my instincts here, I'm going to use this first post to relate a highly personal story pertaining to Edmonton, hopefully not losing you in so many mundane details like these diatribes always seem to end up in. Ok, commencing...I was a mere whelp, one of a litter of four in my family unit, growing up on my parents' farm just south of Beaumont, and one of our favorite activities was to explore the massive forest behind our house. Once one passed through the forest, a large, steep hill greeted you, and after one climbed that, the greatest spot to horse around for a small child presented itself, giving me and my siblings countless hours of youthful joy. Where this rambling narrative becomes relevant is a particular of the view; namely, the shiny, far-off monolith that is downtown Edmonton. Rising out of the flat, green farmland like some kind of Camelot, it represented a world completely different from my far too rural roots, a conception only heightened to my impressionable child brain by the occasional trip into the Coliseum to experience a hockey game. And so it remained, ideal and wonderfully foreign, until the magic dulled, from both age and gradual habituation to its effects. Hopefully, this class can bring some of that back. End emotional trainwreck monologue.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I'm lucky that I can relate to the first blog I read. I'm in the reverse situation...I've lived in Edmonton my whole life. I've always juxtaposed my home in the northeast to my grandparent's farm by Mundare, experiencing one fully while dreaming of going back out on the weekend to cherish the farm. You've just sparked the root of my first blog, which I'll start writing now.
ReplyDeleteI can relate to your story completely. I lived in a small town where there was a highway, a small strip of land and then my house. My brother and I used to play on that strip of land and in the tall grass behind the house which we called "The Field", almost every day. I miss The Field. And like you, my favourite part of the city is the view of downtown, especially when it's all lit up at night.
ReplyDeleteI also relate to this story, as I grew up in rural Manitoba (sidenote: our favourite place to play was "Harry's pasture" next door). Coming from a farm, I still marvel at the downtown skyline as I drive along Saskatchewan Drive. I was never exposed to "city life" that much as a child, and the view from across the valley still takes my breath away.
ReplyDeleteI'm intrigued by the title of your post. I'd say that Cashman's and Hagen's books are both motivated by different sorts of nostalgia, and I'm curious to see this (or not) in our other texts. When I saw Hagen's play, I was even struck by a collective nostalgia that wasn't my own (vicarious nostalgia?!). I'm thinking nostalgic remembrance factors into our course (into writing about a city?) in a big way: how does a writer's lived experience of a recent past change how s/he produces a history about it? You've got me thinking about the nostalgia bug....
ReplyDelete