My father outside our bookshop circa 1967
As I have no doubt said before, since I never tire of repeating myself, in my childhood home we operated according to the Little Red Hen principle, to wit: Those who do not work, neither shall they eat.’
And work we did.
By age 4, proficient in reading and basic maths, I had already been put to work sorting and shelving books in my parents’ secondhand book shop. My mother, tasked with looking after the shop while my father worked, had a tendency to abscond to the pub across the street and on these occasions, I would take her place behind the counter. Sitting on the high stool atop a pile of books, monarch of all I surveyed, I would competently and confidently take care of business. Nobody robbed me or reported my parents to Child Protective Services. I suppose it couldn’t have been that unusual since the kids who lived in the newsagents next door were also miniature shop assistants.
Child labour was alive, well and living in 1960s Dublin.
My wee brother outside our bookshop circa 1967
When the shop closed down and my younger brother was born we were rehoused by the local authority in a suburban highrise. Both of my parents worked so it fell to me, by now 6 years old, to take my brother to creche by bus before school and to collect him again in the afternoon. We were latchkey kids, fending for ourselves until our parents rolled home, often via some public house or other.
In the early 1970s when my father started a Legal Agency business with his brother, I would work there after school, filing, making tea and most importantly, to satisfy my uncle’s extreme thriftiness, picking up each and every paperclip from the floor with the aid of a magnet tied to a string.
Did I receive financial remuneration for my toil? Did I heck! Nor do I recall expecting it.
Money was always tight. So tight that my profligate parents would borrow cash from the gas meter hoping to have it replaced by collection day. In those days you paid for electricity and gas by feeding coins into a meter which would be collected periodically by the meter man. Needless to say, our meter was ofttimes empty when the meter man came to call. In evidence, I submit Exhibit A below
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I chose not to have children as I can’t stand the little blighters and rarely engage with anyone under the age of 21. If I did, however, I would raise them in exactly the same way my parents raised me, minus the alcohol. And why wouldn’t I? Sure look what a fine, upstanding member of society I turned out to be!
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Posted in response to @galenkp's Weekend Experiences prompt asking Should children gain financial reward for doing every day tasks and chores around the house? Discuss, and tell us what happened in your case when you were a child.
Obviously, the photos are my own.
I relate so completely to your childhood. You brought me back to checking tourists into our small hotel in West Cork when I was 6 or 7. I loved asking them to write their car licence plate number on the docket. I felt so important- "a monarch!"
Which all goes to prove that you don't have to send kids down chimneys to get some use out of them:)
Ouch. Not sure whether I should laugh or cry about this. I will go for the former though ;^)
And yeah, you seem to have turned out alright.
Just alright? The depth of your admiration simply bowls me over:)
You're welcome ;<)
I’ve always imagined you as a fine upstanding person (standing, straight up). Hehe! And, now, of course, I know why. Your parents (despite the alcohol) did a great job in educating you about the real world, which (I think) is the problem with the youth nowadays (wink, wink).
It seems kids want money for doing nothing these days. I'd give them all a good clip around the ear and send them down the mines!:)
😂😂😂😂
Those were the days. Now my son wants me to take out a mortgage for every little task I ask him to do. Nice to learn more about little @deirdyweirdy.
Hahaha, Kids! You'll have to start billing him for your services:)
I so look forward to your blogs. Not a slice of life--a slice of your inimitable life.
You were raised the way most farm kids were raised when I was young. Everybody worked, but most of them weren't literate :)) The emphasis was on physical labor and getting the work done.
Can't say you and I share anything in this regard. My mother never asked us to do anything, though she was overburdened with chores herself. I won't catalog them here, but if I had her challenges I think I would have cleared out.
There has to be something right about having responsibility so young, because, if you are anything, you are a survivor. And you never complain.
Your mother sounds like a fine lady. You always speak of her with such affection.
In many ways, each generation has become softer, and less stoic than the one before. Hard times make hard men and all that. Without the self-reliance my upbringing demanded, I don't think I'd've managed to remain on the right side of sanity...if indeed that is where I am:)
Is sanity normative? I don't know. But I do know, I'd feel a lot more comfortable if more people were on your side of sanity 😇
Ha,ha,ha, me too! Everyone's pixelated except you and me..and of yourself I'm not so sure of late:)
At four? :O I'm impressed. And a little worried. It seems like a lot of responsibility. Then again, I'm sure I'm biased. Neither my generation (and much less the ones I've been able to observe consciously) had that kind of experience. So I'm sure there's some sort of intergenerational bias at play here.
Still, while it seems like a lot for a little kid, I've always admired your attitude on this, your sense of resilience and grit is something I hope you're proud of, as well you should be.
Of course you're impressed. Sure amn't I very impressive:) I suppose it was good training for navigating the sea of troubles that is life.