Determinants

Factors which may or may not, sometimes for some people, or never, have an effect on our orientation to love and sex include the attitudes and behaviour of our parents, and/or parent figures, chance life occurences, the actions of our siblings, what we're exposed to in movies, plays, books, art works and schools.

For now I'd like to dwell on only those things which happened in fairly early childhood, say up to about age six or seven. My life was idyllic, yet in retrospect it seems now most probable that my parents, grandmother (who had all the money) and myself  had no inkling of just how lucky we all were. We lived in a huge, eccentric version of what later became known as the 'California Bungalow' a sort of Pasadena Gamble House, but twice the size, and funny looking, only half a mile from the ocean north of Sydney, Australia. Architectual styles spread all over the world, even back then, with speed. The movie theater built at the time, nearby, for which my father was the architect copied German, 'poured conrete' Bauhaus (sp?) concepts which allowed curved surfaces. My grandmother's house however probably had no architect; the builder must have simply copied something Californian from a magazine. It looked like the home of characters from a fairy tale by the time he got through. It was still being modified when my immediate family moved closer to the city of Sydney.

Yet even in that Eden there was a snake in the grass, and of course in the guise of sex.  That should not have been a surprise to my mother. Young mothers in their happiness and naivete tend to think well of everyone and miss the sound of rustling in the grass. The grandfather of my female playmate, Muriel aka "Moo-Moo" asked my mother if he could take me in his little truck to find firewood up and over the hill. She gave permission. When I was later home alone with my mother she found that my clothes must have been removed and put back on different from how she put on my clothes. I had then, and have now, no memory of anything having to do with my clothes. But, my mother was adamant, and called the police. I remember the flashing lights of the patrol car at the foot of the garden in the dark, and my father, home from work, shouting what he was going to do to the grandfather of my friend. I was queried over and over but I told nothing because I could remember nothing, and in spite of many attempts at recreating the scenes of the day I still could remember nothing. Even today I still have hopes of being able to catch some wisp of an elusive memory.

Moo-Moo's family never forgave my parents. Later, around age 13 I visited mother and daughter while I was in boarding school; they were friendly but aloof, unsmiling, almost grim.

See? Nothing happens in this narrative from life experience because I don't know what happened. But, the impact of "nothing" was huge. Quite early, in 'Paradise' I accidently learned that the world was not a safe place.

Barry

(To be continued)