Tag: childhood

That’s nothing

A recent Facebook “memory” was a meme I posted a few years ago that said, “Call me crazy, but I love to see people happy and succeeding. Life is a journey, not a competition.” In the comments, I conjectured, “It could be that personal competitiveness — often manifest as ‘one-upmanship’ — is so embedded in some people’s nature, they are unable to be aware of it.”

I suspect that the roots can be deep.

When I was a child, a common response to another’s boastful statement was, “That’s nothing,” followed by an even bolder claim. We all heard it; we all said it.

—–

“I went fishing yesterday with my dad and caught five fish!”
“That’s nothing. The last time I went, I caught eight. And threw back three little ones.”

—–

“I saw a guy skip a stone on the pond in the park and it bounced seven times!”
“That’s nothing. My brother can make a rock skip 10 times, every time.”

—–

“We drove through six states on vacation.”
“That’s nothing. I’ve been in 15 different states.”

—–

I doubt any of us would learn the term “one-upping” for years, but we seemed to have been born with the ability to practice it. As children, we announced our intention to go-you-one-better with “That’s nothing.” As adults, we’ve matured beyond using that phrase and replaced it with “Yes, but.” You hear it in conversation. You see it on Facebook. Sometimes the “yes, but” is implied, though you can still hear it. If you listen more closely, you hear an echo of “That’s nothing.”

Talk about your current weather experience, and it’s more extreme where they are or recently have been. Travel? They go you one better. Mention something someone did that was stupid and get an example of something even more stupid. Similar if you mention how much — or how little — you just paid for gas. Sometimes an implied “that’s nothing” is pointing out that what you’ve described is good, but less than perfect.

Say something about a personal medical concern and you may well get responses that says, “I have the same problem, only worse and have had it for a longer time.” Anniversary of a parent’s death and you’ll hear from those who encountered this loss even more years ago. Now, in these instances, they may be trying just to be empathetic. Yet the line can be fine between empathy and one-upping. Sometimes the person speaking may not realize which side of that line they are on.

More and more, I’ve amended my comments with the notation that I realize there are more extreme circumstances in other parts of the universe. I’m just commenting on how unusual the temperature, price of gas, or whatever, is for me in my personal realm. “Not trying to start a competition,” I’ve been known to say. Having said all this now, I can’t help wondering if I may be inviting the response, “That’s nothing. I have to endure one-upping comments a lot more than you do.”

What do you miss from childhood?

As a child, I almost never got mail. I was always interested to see what the postman (and they always were men in those days) brought. Finding something addressed to me was a rare occurrence. I wanted to get mail. I don’t remember if anyone ever told me, “Be careful what you wish for,” but I’m pretty sure I did say something to that effect to one or more of my children in the same situation.

As an adult, I get mail. Plenty of mail. Every day. The advent of email has helped cut down on the volume of paper, but I am not lacking for mail, either paper or electronic. Much of the USPS mail goes directly into recycling, a minor annoyance that takes only a few moments. Even less so to delete junk email.

Some of the mail is welcomed, especially cards and other personal notes. Much of it, however, keeps me mindful of adult responsibilities. It often has task assignments. Stuff of which I was blissfully ignorant as a child.

There are things from childhood I don’t miss and would never want to relive. But, at best, my parents provided a shield from many of the cares, frustrations and anxieties of life. I never had to give any thought to getting the furnace repaired or a clogged water pipe opened up. I don’t think I even knew about tax returns. They provided another layer of protection from “the real world,” on top of a child’s naivete.

Of course, I wasn’t completely oblivious to everything going on in the world, and I had my share of childhood concerns and stress. But none of this kept me awake at night. Not even when I was in the fifth grade with a teacher who was overly-demanding. I can remember being on my way to sleep at night when memories of the day or anxiety about tomorrow would creep in. I was able to imagine my bed floating above the classroom as I said: Sorry, I’m in bed now. I’ve never, as an adult, been able to dismiss concerns so easily.

There’s a tendency among some people to romanticize the past. To use selective memory to create a fictitious “good ol’ days.” I subscribe to the Will Rogers quote: “Things ain’t what they used to be and never were.” (See also, my blog post, “The Good New Days.”)

Still, there are good memories along with the less-than-good ones. And while missing something doesn’t mean wanting to go back to it, there are things I miss.

It’s the innocence I remember fondly. I miss not getting much mail.