childhood, Getting older, handkerchiefs, memories, memory, Uncategorized, what we have lost

How Kleenex killed the handkerchief

Shock horror I have run out of tissues and there are none to buy. Just one of the things that we might run short of at the moment . So what are we to do? They are a token of how we have become reliant on certain products in our wonderfully materialistic lives. This huge loss in my 21st century existence led me to think about the loss of other things for example the splendid handkerchief.

Now rarely used it’s history goes back to Egypt in ancient times but became popular in Europe during the Middle Ages. In England it is recorded that Richard II( 1377-1399) used squared pieces of cloth to wipe his nose . I imagine they were not the neatly hemmed pieces of linen I remember my father using . These were beautifully white, boil washed and then perfectly ironed into a pile of neat squares to be placed in his bedside cabinet. Indeed they were part of my domestic education as the first attempts at ironing were to iron the handkerchiefs with progression to more complicated items once they were exactly square and flat with no creases.

My father’s usage generally complied with the usual definition of a handkerchief ” a form of kerchief typically a hemmed square of thin fabric which can be carried in a pocket or handbag and which is intended for personal hygiene such as wiping one’s hands ,face or blowing one’s nose”.  My mother’s handkerchiefs gave an indication of other uses as although she did use them for personal hygiene and for wiping our faces and hands as children usually accompanied by a little  motherly spit to dampen and us pulling faces were smaller and often very decorative.  They had embroidered motives, lace edges or corners, printed pictures of cats or dogs, images of somewhere that she or someone else had visited on holiday or a day trip. I recall one with an Swiss Chalet though I don’t recall who went on such an exotic holiday. These were often presents arriving in decorative flat boxes at Christmas or in a small packet as a holiday souvenir.

Fashion has dictated many of their uses. Made in silk , or some other expensive cloth and in a variety of colours and prints they were frequently used for decorative purposes. These had no practical purpose except perhaps as a symbol of the class and status of the wearer. In the 1930’s and 1940’s they were made very popular by film stars like James Cagney and Fred Astaire who had styles of folding and wearing named after them along with intriguingly named designs such as the Winged Puff.  In the 16th century ladies of status would use them as fashion accessories though they may have also used them to occasionally discretely cover their noses! In the 18th century they were often dropped as a sign of flirtation or courtship or given as a keepsake, a charming custom.  Of course fashion will dictate colours and prints, Disney prints for children, floral and lace for a lady, silk for the gentleman.

Practicality has encouraged many other uses. The large spotted handkerchief that carried a piece of bread and cheese in a children’s adventure story; my Gran wrapping leftover food at a cafe to take home; carrying and wrapping of various treasures; wrapping round the face for protection against dust or smells or dare I say viruses; a bandage over a small injury; clearing spills; wiping away tears; even hiding behind, or waving to get attention or in excitement. They have been used in dancing, think Morris here,although most of the white handkerchiefs waved at the worlds biggest Morris dance directed by the wonderful Richard Digance at Fairport Conventions cropredy morrisfestival every year are now paper not neatly hemmed linen.  Today commemorative hankies are popular for weddings, christenings etc. Crafts people have invented ways of using vintage hankies as tablecloths, bedspreads or dolls and angels for the Christmas tree. And of course not to forget the ageless image of the holiday maker with the knotted handkerchief sunhat. A knot reminder, tie a knot in your hankie and  at best you may just remember that you have forgotten something!

So if this modest accessory has had such a place in our social history  what happened to it?  Well, Kleenex happened. Kleenex was developed in America in 1928 and in 1932 was marketed as ” The handkerchief you can throw away”. Its utility was going down, no more boil washing. It did however hang on in there as a fashion item for a while and even had something of a resurgence thanks to the pocket fashion of the stars and fashionable gentlemen.  And now it seems that we cannot do without it, we are panic buying tissues and stockpiling in case of shortage!!! Perhaps we could go back to the beautifully hemmed pieces of linen, even making them which could be an activity while we are isolated and teach children how to sew. A personal note here, my paternal grandmother had a one time worked in the household of a someone rather grand as an assistant seamstress and even when very old I recall her hemming squares of material in the smallest, neatest, most even stitching I have ever seen. Still never matched except by machine.

Maybe one of the lessons we may learn at the end of this period in our lives is that there are some things we can manage without and perfectly acceptable alternatives that are reusable, decorative and multi-use. The humble perfectly formed and ironed handkerchief being just one of those.obama with hankie

 

care experienced, care leavers, childhood, memory, social work and child care

IT NEVER LEAVES YOU

I apologise to my followers for having stopped writing but last summer seemed to drain me and left me rather lacking in passion for writing anything. I will not bore you with the details but the political situation had much to do with it.  I felt that in the face of such a move to the right the most vulnerable in our society whose life chances are few anyway were really about to be lost to the tide of populism. That being so then anything I had to say was a waste of time.

BUT

“You may leave care but care never leaves you”

This is a quote that never leaves me. Just like my childhood has never left me so it is for  those who did not have such a fortunate childhood. It was the inspiration, along with Eric Sedge’s song, for the Kinder Shores charity. This week I became engaged in an online debate with a woman who spent her teenage years in care following an adoption breakdown, she is now nearly 50 and was meeting her family for the first time in more than 30 years.

The first thing that struck me was not just the mix of huge excitement and fear about this meeting but also the desperation that this would go well.  She would, at long last, belong to a real family, her family,  and not one made up of the care experienced and professional carers. The latter is not diminished by this statement at all because families are made up of many different threads of  life.  I have seen time and time again that desperation for a blood tie, the family seen as the real family and that no matter how difficult their previous history together has been there is always that longing and the hope of reconciliation.

“The silver link, the silken tie,

                                                           Which heart to heart, and mind to mind,

In body and soul can bind.”

This is a quote from Sir Walter Scott used by the now much discredited Bruno Bettleheim in a ” Good Enough Parent”. Just for the record I still feel his work and writing has much to offer us despite his alleged dishonesty about himself. I used this in my Masters dissertation in 1989 which reading now shows that I had somewhat naive ideas. These have been developed with years of experience and with the advantage of age giving insights into the ongoing trauma and distress of those who are care experienced as children. How right it is that that silver link is so very strong and that it’s exploration , often couched as a search for truth, is critical to being able to really belong in this world. It is not always immediately seen as a route to repair and to being able to move forward but this is sometimes an unintended consequence. This requires another element to enter the arena that of forgiveness and this is most difficult for both parents and children.

This meeting may have been hugely anticipated by both parties but in a premeeting  phone call it became clear that each had developed a narrative about the initial care event and the intervening years that did not match. The most serious element of this is that her parents believed that her leaving the family for care was due to her inability to cope with being adopted not the significant and serious abuse that had been the definition of her childhood.  I am certain that it would not be advisable to share all of the events in her life since leaving her family home as they would be too much for a parent to hear in the early days of an evolving relationship. However this denial is so fundamental to the establishment of any future together and has underpinned every single aspect of life for her  being such a destructive force it is difficult to see how this could possibly be overcome. I have to ask myself as a social worker at the time of these events whether we did enough to work with both parties? Is this current situation also the responsibility of the professional who intervened in these lives as well as the individual members of the family? Should we have some obligation to assist with the reconciliation at this stage or simply ignore it and let them get on with it supposedly as “grown-ups”? This is not a question to be answered by a comment on resources but a question of humanity and professional responsibility for our actions as rescuers. I leave it open to debate.

Adoption is a difficult place to find yourself too. These are her adoptive parents who are also part of her extended family. Adoption services cannot hide behind the ” forever family” nonsense. Who exactly do you belong to? And who, when these issues interfere with your adult life in a significant and serious way is going to help resolve these complex issues? In a parallel online conversation this woman’s son,  also adopted, began a conversation on Facebook about his unresolved issues around adoption and asked for those who were in a similar position to contact him hoping to find some answers and support. His simple quest was to understand why he was so angry and how his mother was unable to offer him any support to resolve his questions.  The answer to the latter question is simple from the outside.

If we even begin to believe that care is a simple act of rescue and then finding a suitable placement preferably with that forever family, of getting reviews done on time and keeping the statistics on placement moves and exams on course, then we are deluding ourselves. We are leaving a legacy of hurt, anguish and pain for so many and offering no help with resolution. Of course not for everyone but for a significant number, those over represented in the prison population, in addiction services, mental health facilities and among the homeless. We owe them, their chaotic lives are not entirely down to them. Maybe there needs to be “forever “care teams offering specialised support to care   experienced adults. Ah….. I hear the chorus gathering about lack of resources.

siutcase image



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care leavers, childhood, homelessness, leaving home, memory, social work and child care, social work changes, Social work, child care and history of social work, Uncategorized

The rain it falls not so sweetly

I’m laying in bed listening to the rain falling, gentle, steady soothing rain the sort of rain that falls softly into a summers evening and makes the world smell sweet and clean after a warm day. I am returned momentarily to my childhood and the memory of a bedroom at our home in Stanford-le-hope where I am laying listening to just such rain feeling warm, safe and secure. It is a memory that is so sharp and the feelings are so clear that I can see the wallpaper in that room and how the light used to stream through the window and the view onto the garden with its lawn and scalloped beds so neat and tidy. I am always stunned by the strength of memories triggered in adulthood especially now I am experiencing them from such a distance.

I reflect that it is no different for those who have only bad memories to recall and that those will last on throughout life in the same way and probably with the same intensity. Sadly they will also bring with them the reliving of some of the traumas and sadness that visited them at the original event of their life. It is a great sadness for me that in the public care of young people we frequently neglect to acknowledge these memories believing that they will be expunged by the rescue or the provision of material comforts in a good alternative home with those who will show care and affection. The shame and the pain remain underneath a life appearing to be well lived and at least superficially enjoyed.

Imagine for one moment those for whom that back bedroom with the view of the neat garden brings back the horrors of lock doors, a room filled with abuse and pain with the ever present fear of footsteps coming up the stairs praying that they are passing the door to go to the bathroom. Instead of listening for the rain, trying to block out the sound of drunken shouting, of the thud of the punches thrown and a body hitting the wall followed by the creams of pain. Laying lonely, ill, despairing knowing no one will come to sooth and comfort or not knowing where the next bed will be or if indeed there will be anywhere to sleep , no bed , no warmth and the fear that accompanies street life. If anyone reading thinks this is too dramatic or over egging the case for effect I beg you to believe the unbelievable in today’s society. This is not a story of Victorian England. It is today’s reality for so many living in poverty and despair.

I recall visiting a small boy living with carers prior to an adoptive placement who at the age of 4 got out of bed every morning and put on his shoes before doing anything else. Even though he was in a safe and secure place with a delightful bedroom full of toys and books with a warm comfortable bed designed like a car, the pattern of days on the street with his Mum were firmly imprinted. They were homeless for most of his life always moving on. He had never known any sense of security or safety. don’t imagine his mother didn’t love him, I believe firmly that she did, he was not malnourished though chips and Mars bars may not have been the healthiest of diets and she had found the safest place she could every night, getting him a doctor when he was ill and giving him as much love as her desperate self could spare him. I hope someone told him this after his adoption. But these days will be his memories for ever no matter how much better his childhood becomes his shoes will always be at the ready.

As social workers and carers we face with these young people and adults totally impossible and desperate situations and we must recognise that our attempts to rescue and then provide services are only the beginning of the process of repair. We focus on these elements but do not appear to recognise or deal with their past in a way that will mean as adults every abused child can find an accommodation with their history and memories, settle these memories , adapt to their history, revisit the bits which need to be travelled through many times before peace can be found, find justice for their hurt, sometimes find the truth, find parents and siblings, find a place in the world where they fit. To achieve any of this helpers need time, time to build trusting relationships, time to talk , to visit old children’s home or family homes and schools and so on. Life story books are only a start, they are a sanitised version designed to tick another box. Often done by specialist workers for which read yet another new person. We need to be genealogists, explorers, travellers, photographers, and the archaeologists of individuals lives.

But first we need to recognise the signs and work with them. Note the girl who when admitted to a children’s  home didn’t take her coat off for months and don’t just encourage her to take it off but start slowly to enquire about this behaviour. I know of care experienced adults who can only sleep facing the wall, who suffer interminable nightmares that they think will never leave them, have to have lights on at night, wake to every footstep  or sleep with radios on. There are a million different behaviours alerting us to the need to help restore peace in the lives of the care experienced but we must pay attention. Paying attention to the detail in an individuals life will not only pay dividends for them but will also mean that those scarred    childhoods will not result in adult lives that need to call on mental health services and other public services. 

 For some the rain falls softly for many the rain that falls is so scary that it blights adult life and we need to stop worrying about ticking boxes and start to focus on the real issues and provide a meaningful, life enhancing service to our young people and care experienced adults.