The end of any childhood is a bit like the French Revolution; things that mattered a great deal at eight years old seem in retrospect like having been the First Valet de Chambre at Versailles in the Ancien Régime. You have to understand, it seemed terribly important at the time.
You get me. I wanted Jamie and Claudia to live in the museum forever (with their wax paper covered sandwiches of course) I wanted the Boxcar Children to stay in the boxcar
I feel the need to comment, though I have not yet read the main body of today's dispatch or anything about Boxcar Children . I clicked the link offered in the first line because I'd never read anything about Boxcar Children, was sent to a 2017 post whose first line contained the name Sondheim as a link so I clicked that, not knowing much about his musicals except that I don't get the one I've seen on TV, Into the Woods,(even though I know all the words to all the Rogers and Hammerstein musicals and even some of Gilbert & Sullivan. ) That click took me to a post about trying to watch Into the Woods which so vividly brought back my own Sondheim experience that when I finished reading I wanted to click a heart or leave some other endorsement at the bottom but I couldn't find the heart thingy to click. Was 2017 before clickable hearts? Anyway, terrific 2017 post on Sondheim ! My lunch break's up, but I will get to this, all of it! soon, because I am dying to!
This is a beautiful essay on a topic that I've been stewing over for approximately 30 years. I bounced off the Boxcar Children as a kid because I was so disappointed to learn that it's not a series about, y'know, kids who live in a boxcar. It's like if the Hardy Boys weren't hardy. A colossal lifetime disappointment—thank you for soothing it.
"I have not spoken to either of my siblings since 2019 and I do not believe I ever will again. We have accumulated all of the memories we will ever make together. Although they are very much alive, they are not “in living memory” with me, nor I with them; to me they exist only as a mental archive." This is true for me about my sister for nearly the same time-frame. There is a weird sense of loss in knowing something (a family member, an old home) exists and you could go back if you only could [do this thing/want to go back] but you can't.
You get me. I wanted Jamie and Claudia to live in the museum forever (with their wax paper covered sandwiches of course) I wanted the Boxcar Children to stay in the boxcar
This is the deep analysis of TBC that my soul has always craved. Thank you , Danny.
I feel the need to comment, though I have not yet read the main body of today's dispatch or anything about Boxcar Children . I clicked the link offered in the first line because I'd never read anything about Boxcar Children, was sent to a 2017 post whose first line contained the name Sondheim as a link so I clicked that, not knowing much about his musicals except that I don't get the one I've seen on TV, Into the Woods,(even though I know all the words to all the Rogers and Hammerstein musicals and even some of Gilbert & Sullivan. ) That click took me to a post about trying to watch Into the Woods which so vividly brought back my own Sondheim experience that when I finished reading I wanted to click a heart or leave some other endorsement at the bottom but I couldn't find the heart thingy to click. Was 2017 before clickable hearts? Anyway, terrific 2017 post on Sondheim ! My lunch break's up, but I will get to this, all of it! soon, because I am dying to!
What a beautiful yet horrible mirror you held up for us today. Wrenching. Bravo.
This is heartbreakingly lovely and insightful but all I can think is CRYPTIDS?! What the FUCK?! What happened to the glorious dump?
This is a beautiful essay on a topic that I've been stewing over for approximately 30 years. I bounced off the Boxcar Children as a kid because I was so disappointed to learn that it's not a series about, y'know, kids who live in a boxcar. It's like if the Hardy Boys weren't hardy. A colossal lifetime disappointment—thank you for soothing it.
"I have not spoken to either of my siblings since 2019 and I do not believe I ever will again. We have accumulated all of the memories we will ever make together. Although they are very much alive, they are not “in living memory” with me, nor I with them; to me they exist only as a mental archive." This is true for me about my sister for nearly the same time-frame. There is a weird sense of loss in knowing something (a family member, an old home) exists and you could go back if you only could [do this thing/want to go back] but you can't.
Thank you, as always, for your words.
Chapeau!