I’m knocked out by this piece, Adam. It asks to be read over and over, so lush it is with detail and points of contemplation. What a pleasure to be discovering your work. I feel like I’ve been given a key to a magical, changing garden.
You’ve done justice to seven. Who can do that? Miraculous.
Tina, I thought about this acknowledgment throughout the day yesterday. The feedback on this piece was too much to respond to immediately. As you can imagine it means a great deal to me – this and what follows. It is profoundly touching to see others walking in the same magical, changing garden of childhood. Thank you for your acknowledgment and for following my work.
It would have been painful if you and David didn't understand this. I'm moving away from the side of the pool now and into some deep water, and I don't want to be alone out there with things that are so deeply personal/precious to me. This is what I have as a writer/person. Relief and gratitude.
You've opened up a remarkable tableau for us to notice, Adam - 7 years old, and we can see and feel that magical promise of music, that girl, that imaginary play space you describe. Beautifully done...
Thank you, Troy. We are all lots of people and characters -- and this is in your writing, too -- but if our lives were a play, my seven-year-old would be the last one to take his bow, if a deeply humble one. Again, thank you.
Are you familiar with the “7 Up” series of movies, which follows a group of British children from age 7 to their 60’s, with a new movie every 7 years? I highly recommend it. That quotation (“give me the child at 7...”) starts every episode of the series. I can’t say enough good things about these films.
And I loved your essay and look forward to the next installment.
That's wild that you point that out, and I know the series well, and it must have been where I first heard it, although that was long forgotten. That series was adult-formative for me. It played out like a tragedy, although one you can't take your eyes off. The boy who grew up to be mentally ill wandering around the north England or Scotland was painful. While that (ongoing?) documentary focused primarily on class I felt, the sweep of information about those children was riveting. Michael Apted was the director. I'm not sure he's alive anymore -- or many of the children. Thanks for the recall (and the warm acknowledgment), and I'm sure that's where I first heard it.
We (I) stop noticing how profoundly personal personal the love of music is probably because we share our love of it with others, but it exists outside of our relationships, too. I don't know if everyone has this feeling -- there are the "men who hear no music" -- but I think the vast majority of people must have a moment where music emerges from the background. Thank you for your support (as always).
Adam, this is a stunning piece of writing. You have a real gift for transporting yourself back into moments of your life and sharing it in a way that makes me feel like I've touched my own childhood.
This was riveting. I admire your attention to detail, like the three hairs of grass at the sign post - yes! And this line -- “It was a dream world, but a dream world that existed.” -- absolutely recognize that from my own dreamy childhood. I might have gasped when you wrote that the surgery must be done with the patient awake. That’s exactly how it feels.
Different age, but do you know the Billy Collins poem, “On Turning Ten”? It never fails to move me, mostly as a mother of a son, now 21.
I’m so curious about your craft here. (Not to choke the life out of it, never that.) When you were writing, what helped you call up these images and senses? I keep thinking about that raincoat and umbrella. And the smells I’m the courtyard.
The practical answer is that I spend a lot of time with my line in the water waiting for fish. I'm disciplined about that, but the true answer is (none of us) has a clue when something tugs that moves us or makes us laugh or even the simplest idea about what we need to get from the store. I need to be moved, though. I know that, and I will fish for a long time to get there.
And I am very, very late for the pond this morning, so I'm off.
Sep 30, 2023·edited Sep 30, 2023Liked by Adam Nathan
Gorgeous writing, Adam. Sucked and transported into that world and sense of being, of what is to be and what has not been.
I could quote all of it, but I shall quote this line (from an entire paragraph) that struck me: "The metamorphosis bothered me, like a trick I would have to live for years to understand because that was the only way to get beneath that riddle, one time-lapse year at a time."
Thank you so much, Nathan. Truly. Did you have this feeling, too? I've never heard anyone else talk about it, although I suppose it's not something you'd naturally bring up either. It was a true childhood puzzle for me, and an odd one really because I can't see it now. There seems to be an obvious throughline. I don't say it explicitly here, but there was also disappointment that the youth of a younger woman would be visually lost. I don't remember thinking it about men now that I'm writing this.
This also caught me, as I’m frequently stunned by my own age now - how did I get here? Not as a rejection of it but it is a wonder. A marvel. To be what young people see as an old woman, when in many ways I’m exactly the same as a 16-year-old (or maybe 20?). It’s confounding, all these ages crowding together inside one body.
It is truly confounding. Sometimes I’ll think that there’s something I’d like to learn or do and I’m abruptly aware that I may have hit an expiration date on it. Sigh.
In any event, I’m on the other side of the riddle and wondering what I did to end up with this face. 😂 secret, though: I don’t want to redo any ages. This age isn’t a bad one and will look positively youthful a few years from now.
I think the older I get, the more and more I feel this. As Julie notes here, I keep having more of these existential feels of how did I get here? How did all that time pass by so quickly?
A good day writing at 57 > a bad day when I was sleeping late and complaining I’m bored at 19. Still, I wish the mirror situation was a little friendlier. 😂
I remember all of this. Probably, or maybe not. It was different but the same. Wonderfully written, and that’s a compliment. But more than compliments, thank you for my own memories, different, but the same; reflected...
So glad to have found you. I need more writing like this in my life. Just a stunningly (sur)real depiction of a moment in time. As an aside, that quote, "Give me a child at seven..." is the intro to the original British Seven Up! series where the producer tries to prove the quote. However, I'm not sure if he's trying to prove it right or wrong. Looking forward to the next installment of the series, Seventy Up! in 2026. And very much looking forward to the next installment of this piece. Ciao.
Thank you for the kind note and the follow. What’s strange is I know the series well although it’s been years since seen one — but I did not remember the quote tied to it until another reader pointed it out. I must have heard it first there. That series is unforgettable and, in its way, tragic. But the quote holds up, certainly from a class perspective.
A quick word on the series. The first is that it’s been published in full now so you should be able to click through at the bottom if you remain engaged.
Publishing this as a series is the better of two poor options: scare readers away with length or serialize and completely stutter step readers through it. I will probably post it all as one long-form piece. This is WAY more information than you asked for.
Executive Summary: click Next Chapter at bottom. 😊
I’m knocked out by this piece, Adam. It asks to be read over and over, so lush it is with detail and points of contemplation. What a pleasure to be discovering your work. I feel like I’ve been given a key to a magical, changing garden.
You’ve done justice to seven. Who can do that? Miraculous.
Tina, I thought about this acknowledgment throughout the day yesterday. The feedback on this piece was too much to respond to immediately. As you can imagine it means a great deal to me – this and what follows. It is profoundly touching to see others walking in the same magical, changing garden of childhood. Thank you for your acknowledgment and for following my work.
I keep starting to write a comment, but nothing is adequate. You've captured something I didn't know could be captured, and I'm left stunned.
It would have been painful if you and David didn't understand this. I'm moving away from the side of the pool now and into some deep water, and I don't want to be alone out there with things that are so deeply personal/precious to me. This is what I have as a writer/person. Relief and gratitude.
We're both very much there with, and for, you as you head into those waters ❤️
You've opened up a remarkable tableau for us to notice, Adam - 7 years old, and we can see and feel that magical promise of music, that girl, that imaginary play space you describe. Beautifully done...
Thank you, Troy. We are all lots of people and characters -- and this is in your writing, too -- but if our lives were a play, my seven-year-old would be the last one to take his bow, if a deeply humble one. Again, thank you.
Are you familiar with the “7 Up” series of movies, which follows a group of British children from age 7 to their 60’s, with a new movie every 7 years? I highly recommend it. That quotation (“give me the child at 7...”) starts every episode of the series. I can’t say enough good things about these films.
And I loved your essay and look forward to the next installment.
That's wild that you point that out, and I know the series well, and it must have been where I first heard it, although that was long forgotten. That series was adult-formative for me. It played out like a tragedy, although one you can't take your eyes off. The boy who grew up to be mentally ill wandering around the north England or Scotland was painful. While that (ongoing?) documentary focused primarily on class I felt, the sweep of information about those children was riveting. Michael Apted was the director. I'm not sure he's alive anymore -- or many of the children. Thanks for the recall (and the warm acknowledgment), and I'm sure that's where I first heard it.
This is so good!! I remember that exact same childhood feeling of loving music.
We (I) stop noticing how profoundly personal personal the love of music is probably because we share our love of it with others, but it exists outside of our relationships, too. I don't know if everyone has this feeling -- there are the "men who hear no music" -- but I think the vast majority of people must have a moment where music emerges from the background. Thank you for your support (as always).
Adam, this is a stunning piece of writing. You have a real gift for transporting yourself back into moments of your life and sharing it in a way that makes me feel like I've touched my own childhood.
What else to say but thank you, Ben. It is a gift to be heard.
This was riveting. I admire your attention to detail, like the three hairs of grass at the sign post - yes! And this line -- “It was a dream world, but a dream world that existed.” -- absolutely recognize that from my own dreamy childhood. I might have gasped when you wrote that the surgery must be done with the patient awake. That’s exactly how it feels.
Different age, but do you know the Billy Collins poem, “On Turning Ten”? It never fails to move me, mostly as a mother of a son, now 21.
Thank you, Julie from a father of a 21-year-old daughter ❤️ and a 25-year-old son ❤️. (They are also a dream world that exists.)
"You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten"
Beautiful poem, reliably so from Billy Collins.
I’m so curious about your craft here. (Not to choke the life out of it, never that.) When you were writing, what helped you call up these images and senses? I keep thinking about that raincoat and umbrella. And the smells I’m the courtyard.
The practical answer is that I spend a lot of time with my line in the water waiting for fish. I'm disciplined about that, but the true answer is (none of us) has a clue when something tugs that moves us or makes us laugh or even the simplest idea about what we need to get from the store. I need to be moved, though. I know that, and I will fish for a long time to get there.
And I am very, very late for the pond this morning, so I'm off.
Gorgeous writing, Adam. Sucked and transported into that world and sense of being, of what is to be and what has not been.
I could quote all of it, but I shall quote this line (from an entire paragraph) that struck me: "The metamorphosis bothered me, like a trick I would have to live for years to understand because that was the only way to get beneath that riddle, one time-lapse year at a time."
Thank you so much, Nathan. Truly. Did you have this feeling, too? I've never heard anyone else talk about it, although I suppose it's not something you'd naturally bring up either. It was a true childhood puzzle for me, and an odd one really because I can't see it now. There seems to be an obvious throughline. I don't say it explicitly here, but there was also disappointment that the youth of a younger woman would be visually lost. I don't remember thinking it about men now that I'm writing this.
This also caught me, as I’m frequently stunned by my own age now - how did I get here? Not as a rejection of it but it is a wonder. A marvel. To be what young people see as an old woman, when in many ways I’m exactly the same as a 16-year-old (or maybe 20?). It’s confounding, all these ages crowding together inside one body.
It is truly confounding. Sometimes I’ll think that there’s something I’d like to learn or do and I’m abruptly aware that I may have hit an expiration date on it. Sigh.
In any event, I’m on the other side of the riddle and wondering what I did to end up with this face. 😂 secret, though: I don’t want to redo any ages. This age isn’t a bad one and will look positively youthful a few years from now.
But really to your point, Julie. It is a wonder.
I think the older I get, the more and more I feel this. As Julie notes here, I keep having more of these existential feels of how did I get here? How did all that time pass by so quickly?
A good day writing at 57 > a bad day when I was sleeping late and complaining I’m bored at 19. Still, I wish the mirror situation was a little friendlier. 😂
Hehe, yes there is certainly a lot to be said about a good day writing 😊
I remember all of this. Probably, or maybe not. It was different but the same. Wonderfully written, and that’s a compliment. But more than compliments, thank you for my own memories, different, but the same; reflected...
"It was different, but the same." Exactly.
So glad to have found you. I need more writing like this in my life. Just a stunningly (sur)real depiction of a moment in time. As an aside, that quote, "Give me a child at seven..." is the intro to the original British Seven Up! series where the producer tries to prove the quote. However, I'm not sure if he's trying to prove it right or wrong. Looking forward to the next installment of the series, Seventy Up! in 2026. And very much looking forward to the next installment of this piece. Ciao.
Hi Jo,
Thank you for the kind note and the follow. What’s strange is I know the series well although it’s been years since seen one — but I did not remember the quote tied to it until another reader pointed it out. I must have heard it first there. That series is unforgettable and, in its way, tragic. But the quote holds up, certainly from a class perspective.
A quick word on the series. The first is that it’s been published in full now so you should be able to click through at the bottom if you remain engaged.
Publishing this as a series is the better of two poor options: scare readers away with length or serialize and completely stutter step readers through it. I will probably post it all as one long-form piece. This is WAY more information than you asked for.
Executive Summary: click Next Chapter at bottom. 😊
Thanks Nathan, I'm reading one every night. It's all my black heart can handle.
A smart pace. That’s about the speed I pump out the charcoal.
(This is very easy to get confused, but I’m an Adam not a Nathan when I’m on a first name basis, and now we are.)❤️
My god what have I done! I blame your parents. Two first names. Who comes up with that?!