Inspired by Dickens's A Chrismas Carol.

The first ghost shows in his childhood, the second ghost shows him Christmas celebrations of his family and employee, and the third ghost shows him his death. Now, our relationship with other people and our mortality are worth thinking about. Are our childhoods similarly worth recollecting often? If so, how?

How I long for to muse on the days of my boyhood
Though fourscore and three years have flitted since then
Still it gives sweet reflections as every young joy should
For merry young boys make the best of old men

-- The Baird of Armagh

If a ghost shows up and prompts you, maybe.

More seriously, only if you see a real need for it. It is not something that most people should find necessary.

Ad a boy, I lived on a ranch here in Arkansas -- my Dad had 3500 acres, and I was a cowboy. The old place was sold off bit by bit, and when I came back from my second tour in Viet Nam, my brother was selling what was left. So my wife and I went looking for cheap, undeveloped land and found the place where we live now -- 160 acres for $50 an acre. We used to come out here and camp whenever I took leave. We finally built a house on it 30 years later.

I got a couple of horses, and rode all over the place. One day, I noticed the muscadines (if you know what they are) were ripe. I was sitting in the saddle, picking and eating muscadines, and suddenly I was 14 years old again!

I took Jack3's question to be asking if we should make a direct intentional effort to ponder our childhood and draw lessons from it.

I went to school with the Christian Brothers. They handled school yard fights by putting us in the ring. I learned the three most valuable lessons of my life from that:

1. Stand up for yourself.
2. No matter how man you get, there are rules.
3. A punch in the nose really hurts.

You gotta know when to hold 'em....

And remember that fine old Irish proverb, "There's many a man whose mouth has broken his nose.

How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood
When fond recollections presents them to view.

George Kiallmark/ The Old Oaken Bucket

Scuppernongs, esp.

That's what I was asking

Same thing. There is an art to eating them -- you put the muscadine between your molars so that when you apply pressure, the skin splits and squirts the pulp into your mouth. Then with your tongue, you artfully separate the seeds from the pulp and spit out the seeds. Then you can eat the pulp, and chew the skins to get all the juice out of them.

You can also make wine from muscadines. I made a batch and gave a gallon to my neighbor. He was working on the roof, got hot and thirsty, and came down looking for something to drink. He found that gallon of wine where his wife had left it, on the kitchen counter. He poured a water glass full and went back on the roof.

He says to this day he doesn't know how he got back down.

I have very fond memories of growing up in East New York Brooklyn in an Italian and Jewish neighborhood. I had five Jewish girlfriends all living on the same block that I played with every day. Every sidewalk game you can draw with chalk we played. Then there was hide and seek,, three-feet off, red light-green light, and giant steps.

Also jump rope with special rhymes to go with it, and Spaldine ball with jacks. In the hot summer when we just sat on the cement steps we played Chinese Checkers, and the winner played the next person.
There was also word games with pencil and paper.....and many more that I can't remember the names of.

We went to each others birthday parties, and while I was very young I thought there was a Jewish Heaven, and a Catholic Heaven. It wasn't until I got much older that I was aware of the difference of beliefs. We were all good friends for a long time, and I even got to go to a Jewish Wedding! Some of us kept in touch and visited after we married, moved away, had toddlers with us and visited one another.

In much later years I wanted to get in touch somehow and my youngest daughter did Facebook, so I asked her to look their names up. I forgot the married names and she told me that they had a place on facebook where ladies would put their maiden names in case anyone looked them up. They didn't do that, so alas, I have the wonderful memories but couldn't get in touch with them.

There was no Catholic School at my parish, and on Wednesday afternoons at the public school we all went to religious instructions. They had "released time" from the public school so the Catholics went to church for Catechism lessons, and my Jewish friends went to Schule (I probably didn't spell that right) to learn about their faith. We walked in groups together going to our church, or to where the Jewish children went.

We all went to the same public school just 1/2 block away and one street to cross with a crossing guard. The principal, Dr. Charles G. Eichel started the day off on the public address system in our rooms with the Pledge of Allegiance, a prayer from the Psalms (mostly "The Lord is my shepherd....")
and even though he was of the Jewish faith he alternated with St. Paul's "....faith, hope, and love and the greatest of these is love." Then he asked us to sit quietly for about three minutes with our hands folded on the desk and pray. I recall the Ten Commandments poster was in each room.

He was a loved and respected principal by parents of both faiths!

Beautifully written, Dorothy B.
Sweet memories of kinder and gentler times.

We had the Pledge of Allegiance and Lord's Prayer every morning (public school).
How nice that your principal included prayers common to both and additionally from the NT.

As a parent I find it to be very important.

Can it be related to the Lord's command to become like children?

Yes, it was a unique time...kinder and gentler.

With a lot of prayer we can get back to something even better.

Yep, to all this. Scuppernongs are the golden-bronze variant. They grew wild in the woods around my suburban home. Sweet.

You find them all through the woods in the Ozarks -- along with blackberries, you have all the jam and wine you want.

Or, in my case, from the crab apple trees that were in my yard.

Until about 3 years ago, when I had to take them all down.