I Had a Great Childhood

I didn't have the best relationship with my mother or father. Things were bad and the whole family split up and ran our separate ways as soon as possible. My brother Rick and I were close for a long time, but that eventually went sour.

I recently reacquainted with my older sister. It was a good, positive experience, and I hope to maintain the relationship. At one point I mentioned that I would like to go back and see our childhood Baltimore home. Why, she asked.

Why. Why would I want to bring back the bad memories? I said that it isn't like we were exactly abused, but she brought up a lot of valid points that suggested otherwise. Some of the things were news to me, and some were buried in the back of my brain.

My childhood wasn't the ideal family situation you see in movies and TV. Not even the troubled, dysfunctional ones you see so often. No, it was nasty and ugly.

So, again, why?

I had a great childhood. I have so many nostalgic feelings about it. Virtually none with my family, and precious few with friends. But I have the best memories.

I explored the globe, from jungles to cities to frozen wastes with Doc Savage and his amazing aides.

I ventured gothic mansions and faced monsters in black and white movie extravaganzas.

I soared through the cosmos with Robert A. Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Frederik Pohl, and so many other SF giants.

I battled legions of the undead with Robert E. Howard's Solomon Kane.

I wandered the old West, fighting injustice with wisdom and the arts of defense with Kwai Chang Caine.

I followed the signposts and expanded the borders of my imagination at the gateposts of the Twilight Zone.

I learned that even the amazing Spider Man had many of the same troubles and fears as I did.

I battled monsters with a cynical reporter who nonetheless championed the truth in The Night Stalker.

I ruled the jungle with Tarzan of the Apes.

I braved grave threats in a quest to darkest Mordor.

I witnessed wry crimes and punishments in courtesy of Alfred Hitchcock in paperback anthologies.

I shuddered in awe as my beloved monsters returned in vivid color at the Hammer House of Horrors.

I laughed and cringed at bad puns while reading a magazine, learning that directors, writers, makeup effects men, and dignified actors made the movies I loved.

My heart broke for a misunderstood creature as he fell from the tallest building on the planet.

I saw desperate men struggle for survival in a world populated by simians.

I battled monsters, maniacs, space creatures, and magicians in hundreds of books, comics, movies, and in my own imagination.

Yes, I miss my childhood. I still love all that stuff, but no one can hold on to the marvel, the awe, the magic we had when we were young. I doubt I'll ever really be scared by the Wolf Man again. I may love The Legion of Space, but I will chuckle at the silly details Jack Williamson put into the stories. I've given up hope that I will personally reach the stars. I'll never save the day and be cheered upon by grateful crowds.

And yet some of that still lives in my heart. We never really escape our childhoods. Especially those of us who have made horror, science fiction, and fantasy integral elements of our lives.

So I keep reading. I watch the old movies again, seeing how they hold up after all these years. I lay awake in bed, waiting for sleep to arrive, and in my mind and heart I am flying on a ship through space.

All this and more keep my heart young. My body ages, but I fight the cynicism. It gets harder all the time, but I find my strength in the books and movies I loved as a child.

Written by Mark Sieber