My Second Childhood

When I was growing up in Connecticut in the late 1950s and early 1960s, adult people in my life would occasionally shake their head in disbelief and mutter about someone, "He's in his second childhood." I had no idea what that phrase meant at the time, since I was having a great deal of difficulty negotiating my first childhood. But soon I picked up what they were referring to: they meant, almost invariably, to describe a man in his 30s or 40s who had picked up a sports car, a hair dye or, increasingly, a youngish female companion to accompany him in his world. Adults I knew usually disdained these men because the men who did these things were being "irresponsible" or "unrealistic" or something worse.

Because I was so strongly conditioned against the idea of second childhoods, and since shiny sports cars, hair dye and bimbos didn't have any attraction for me (Ok, I admit it, I went through a "bimbo" phase), I never even considered the concept of a "second childhood" for myself. In fact, I was in a number of fairly highly visible professions (minister, litigation attorney, holding public office) that would have made the quest for a second childhood bring me the kind of attention that I really didn't crave. Then, as I thought deeply about the matter, I didn't want a second childhood because I don't think my first one was that hot. As a child, I don't think I "fit" very well in almost any situation I found myself, from my family to my school. I sort of got the sense that if you wanted to have any fun you had to go inside yourself.

So, when I was in my 30s and 40s I gave up the idea of having such a thing as a second childhood. It just wasn't that alluring to me. And it wasn't very painful to give up the idea. But now, at age 55, I think I know what a second childhood for me is, and I think I am in it. But I am chasing something completely different than the things disdained by my repressed forebears in the Land of Gentle Habits. I think the "breakthrough" for me in discovering a second childhood came when I realized that there are different aspects of childhood you can select to imitate. You don't have to go buy the shiny sports car to have a second childhood. Inded, if there is something you really think was YOU, that you really admire about yourself from childhood, then, by all means, rediscover it. Let me tell you what that is for me.

A Youthful Memory

The "second childhood" that I am in now and that I want to cultivate reaches back to an experience I had when I was 18 years old. I describe it in another essay where I recall a trip to my grandparents' Hawk Mountain, VT, chalet in Oct. 1970. Here it is:

"So, as I was writing essay # 1850, I was transported back in my mind to the Hawk Mountain chalet. I recall the bunk beds, the crisp and bracing mid-October air, the lingering colors of the leaves, the hikes that Ollie [my grandfather] and I took each day up the mountain, the hours I spent on the sunny porch trying to read a few pages of Aristotle while the silent symphony of nature was playing before me. I recall going to bed long after my grandparents had retired and feeling the immense quiet and dark of the mountain. In those stolen hours when the world slept, I recall breaking out both Aristotle and my Bible, reading, doing some memorization, not understanding much of what I was learning but vowing to myself that I would, before the end of my life, fully understand both of the books I was trying to read. I further recall saying to myself that I would love to make my life a life of mastery of great texts and ideas. That, indeed, would make me happy, regardless of the venue in which I would express my knowledge of these ideas. I tried to coax just one thought out of each of the texts, one idea that I could take with me into the realms of sleep, and then I would lay my books aside, fall asleep and not be conscious of the world until I heard my grandmother making breakfast the next morning."

Returning to Today

That memory (full essay here) is one I haven't been able to shake and, indeed, is one that I want to embrace today. I look back at that young man and it almost appears as if he is a different person from me today. Rather than the boy being the father to the man, I really do feel as if I am the father of the boy. He is a good lad, a smart and ambitious person, one who didn't let the confusion of classic texts deter him from trying to understand them and believing very deeply that there must be something there worthy of mastery.

I want to capture the spirit of myself--the young man of that story. In 1970, the last thoughts I wanted to rush through my mind during the Hawk Mountain nights were on the Bible and Aristotle. But I didn't just want vague sentiments to suffuse my dreams. I wanted specific words, I wanted pointed ideas, I wanted something I could learn, memorize, internalize and appropriate into the kingdom of my mind. That is the part of my childhood that so powerfully speaks to me today. For there is almost nothing I would rather do today than to be able to explore, explain, dissect, discuss and improve upon an idea that has either been first mentioned by someone else or is the combination of my pulling together sources from disparate parts of my learning.

Conclusion

I am in my second childhood because almost every day I have the privilege of interacting either with the Bible or other classic texts, or I am trying to clarify things for people in simple language. But my second childhood has gone beyond my first in a notable way, and that is that the diversity suggested by Aristotle and the Bible has become a diversity of sources of mental input far exceeding those original two texts. And, the diversity of texts has been accompanied by a skeptical, critical but deeply appreciative reading of these texts. I want to make texts "sing" today. That is an amibition that couldn't quite have come from the 18 year-old in 1970. But all the ingredients were there: a heart, a mind, and time. Now, I am thankfully able to have all of those things again, after the passage of 35 years, and I am, in my judgment, the most blessed and fortunate man in the world.

3175