It starts with a car – an old Chevy or Ford bought for $100 from a guy down the street, or a hot rod you lovingly wrenched and polished until it shone, or your dad’s car, a Buick or Olds with bulging fenders and a hood so long it reaches the next county, or even the backseat of the cop car you were shoved into after you got caught speeding down a dark highway, the steering wheel shaking in your hands as if it had a life of its own.
Lucian you are, of course, a gifted writer and commentator. Now I realize how generous you are to share such a wonderful coming of age essay. Thank you for the story and for reminding this 77 year old of his own fiery, exciting and frightening first love.
Love your occasional personal pieces, Lucian. sheer poetry. Ah, sweet mystery of life - the varying degrees of feeling we have with all we meet, unexplainable really. And parting is such sweet sorrow.
Oct 23, 2022·edited Oct 23, 2022Liked by Lucian K. Truscott IV
At this stage of my life I spend a lot of time thinking about those early years, about what worked, and about what didn't; why things I longed for at the time had no chance of ever happening. I think about the choices I made, and my mindset at the time. A good mind that is un-tempered by experience, self-knowledge, and a lack of self-confidence, is a mind that takes years to adjust to the world as it is. Even in my old age, my mind is a work in progress.
Randomness and luck has a lot to do with what happens to us in this world, regardless of the gifts our parents endow us with, or those that we cultivate on our own. At bottom, it is far better to explore early in life, take calculated risks and suffer defeats when the stakes are low, and to develop a capacity for learning from others, and taking care of others. From my perspective, in the latter regard we are worse off than when I was a young man. It is not just that well-off young men are too full of themselves, and their inflated self-worth, then things were when I was their age.
We had the incalculable advantage, back when I was growing up, that our parents had lived through a devastating depression, and then survived a world war. If anything, we knew the evils of totalitarianism, because our fathers had fought it on the battlefield, and that some of their best friends had not survived there long enough to become fathers of children themselves. The neighborhoods I grew up in were full of wounded warriors and survivors; and the VFW halls had full memberships, men who were able to relate to each other in ways that they could not do so before their children, their wives, and their extended families. More often than not, elected public officials were also veterans. Not everyone was a combat veteran, but it was enough that those men endured those years of military service, with their hardships and inconveniences. They were a much more thoughtful and mature group of men then what I am seeing today. Today, it is the women candidates who are more like their male counterparts from the mid-50s through the 1960s, than the men we see in office today. This is particularly true of members of the Republican Party whose avowed goal is victory at any price, and at any cost to our country. During the war years, fate did not pick favorites between Republicans and Democrats; all served, and many, many died, regardless of their pedigree and social standing. The sorry bunch of losers that were seeing today are directly proportional to the sacrifices made by others in previous generations.
So interesting that you both went on to work with words and emotions for audiences. Your sweet connection as 14 year olds was really very deep. Thank you for this wondrous remembrance.
Poignant, maybe a little embarrassing, just the way I remember my first awkward attempts with girls, but completely real. I went through puberty 4 or 5 years after you, which made it even more awkward. Thanks for sharing and reminding readers of their own stories. Jim
very lovely piece, Lucian. struck a definite few chords, because, of course, these are archetypal experiences, however different the circumstances might be. in my outer-borough case, cars were not nearly as prevalent as in the rest of America, who could drive at sixteen. or younger. and, as you know, NYC is still the place where one is most likely to encounter a good number of non-drivers here, you could pay some big bucks (like, about four hundred bucks in 1965) and get a real license a year early, at 17.
but I figure the experience of getting behind the wheel for the first time has to be exactly the same for everyone: the feeling of being overwhelmed at the crazy complexity of operating this huge machine, which demanded a whole new repertoire of new behaviors and unfamiliar skills (thank god it had dual controls!) done with absolute precision at precisely the right second. my first thought (and I figure it's very common, to say the least) was something like "I can't do this. I will never be able to do this. I have made a horrible mistake. please get me the fuck outta here."
and by five years later, I was dropping acid in a car and encircling Manhattan about eight or nine times, convinced that I was the best driver in NYC at that particular moment in the history of the Universe. and I probably was, not unlike those pitchers who were tripping and pitched perfect games.
but discovering young love in cars was a lot less likely for outer borough guys whose parents weren't in a position to spring for ANY car for a kid still in high school. which I figure is too bad for us, because it was such an important early sixties American thing.
but during the Summers, I'd get to hang out with a lot of contemporaries in Detroit, and those guys obviously had some very significant eternal car experiences to tell me about. I might actually have adapted some of them to take back to NY, where my buddies could kick themselves in the head for not being to have similar experiences for a whole other year, which is a long time when you haven't been around for very many of them.
It always amazes me how we can be so different but in the end be so alike. With just a few changes that could be my story. Even at eighty those early emotions still are with me.
Lucian you are, of course, a gifted writer and commentator. Now I realize how generous you are to share such a wonderful coming of age essay. Thank you for the story and for reminding this 77 year old of his own fiery, exciting and frightening first love.
This is just gorgeous.
Love your occasional personal pieces, Lucian. sheer poetry. Ah, sweet mystery of life - the varying degrees of feeling we have with all we meet, unexplainable really. And parting is such sweet sorrow.
At this stage of my life I spend a lot of time thinking about those early years, about what worked, and about what didn't; why things I longed for at the time had no chance of ever happening. I think about the choices I made, and my mindset at the time. A good mind that is un-tempered by experience, self-knowledge, and a lack of self-confidence, is a mind that takes years to adjust to the world as it is. Even in my old age, my mind is a work in progress.
Randomness and luck has a lot to do with what happens to us in this world, regardless of the gifts our parents endow us with, or those that we cultivate on our own. At bottom, it is far better to explore early in life, take calculated risks and suffer defeats when the stakes are low, and to develop a capacity for learning from others, and taking care of others. From my perspective, in the latter regard we are worse off than when I was a young man. It is not just that well-off young men are too full of themselves, and their inflated self-worth, then things were when I was their age.
We had the incalculable advantage, back when I was growing up, that our parents had lived through a devastating depression, and then survived a world war. If anything, we knew the evils of totalitarianism, because our fathers had fought it on the battlefield, and that some of their best friends had not survived there long enough to become fathers of children themselves. The neighborhoods I grew up in were full of wounded warriors and survivors; and the VFW halls had full memberships, men who were able to relate to each other in ways that they could not do so before their children, their wives, and their extended families. More often than not, elected public officials were also veterans. Not everyone was a combat veteran, but it was enough that those men endured those years of military service, with their hardships and inconveniences. They were a much more thoughtful and mature group of men then what I am seeing today. Today, it is the women candidates who are more like their male counterparts from the mid-50s through the 1960s, than the men we see in office today. This is particularly true of members of the Republican Party whose avowed goal is victory at any price, and at any cost to our country. During the war years, fate did not pick favorites between Republicans and Democrats; all served, and many, many died, regardless of their pedigree and social standing. The sorry bunch of losers that were seeing today are directly proportional to the sacrifices made by others in previous generations.
Lucian, these personal essays are wonderful gifts. Thanks for sharing them.
ahh
haha, the teenboy's hubris and angst.
and fumbling discovery of nascent love in the back seat at a drive-in.
thank you, LKTIV, for refreshing dreams of yesteryear.
did Shakespeare say to find love at the 5 &10s?
So interesting that you both went on to work with words and emotions for audiences. Your sweet connection as 14 year olds was really very deep. Thank you for this wondrous remembrance.
And so young rakes are drawn to piles of leaves. I was young. It was May. We rolled around. The leaves were okay. But the poison ivy was not.
Poignant, maybe a little embarrassing, just the way I remember my first awkward attempts with girls, but completely real. I went through puberty 4 or 5 years after you, which made it even more awkward. Thanks for sharing and reminding readers of their own stories. Jim
Lucian, Yes more like this. Been to that rodeo except is was a '58 Chevy. WE've been married 54 years now.
A beautiful vignette of first desire. Think how much more confusing it is for a same-sex attraction at age 14! Love is love.
Lucian, Just a wonderful, lovely piece. Looking back at age 79, I was reminded of many moments in my life. Thanks for sharing.
very lovely piece, Lucian. struck a definite few chords, because, of course, these are archetypal experiences, however different the circumstances might be. in my outer-borough case, cars were not nearly as prevalent as in the rest of America, who could drive at sixteen. or younger. and, as you know, NYC is still the place where one is most likely to encounter a good number of non-drivers here, you could pay some big bucks (like, about four hundred bucks in 1965) and get a real license a year early, at 17.
but I figure the experience of getting behind the wheel for the first time has to be exactly the same for everyone: the feeling of being overwhelmed at the crazy complexity of operating this huge machine, which demanded a whole new repertoire of new behaviors and unfamiliar skills (thank god it had dual controls!) done with absolute precision at precisely the right second. my first thought (and I figure it's very common, to say the least) was something like "I can't do this. I will never be able to do this. I have made a horrible mistake. please get me the fuck outta here."
and by five years later, I was dropping acid in a car and encircling Manhattan about eight or nine times, convinced that I was the best driver in NYC at that particular moment in the history of the Universe. and I probably was, not unlike those pitchers who were tripping and pitched perfect games.
but discovering young love in cars was a lot less likely for outer borough guys whose parents weren't in a position to spring for ANY car for a kid still in high school. which I figure is too bad for us, because it was such an important early sixties American thing.
but during the Summers, I'd get to hang out with a lot of contemporaries in Detroit, and those guys obviously had some very significant eternal car experiences to tell me about. I might actually have adapted some of them to take back to NY, where my buddies could kick themselves in the head for not being to have similar experiences for a whole other year, which is a long time when you haven't been around for very many of them.
It always amazes me how we can be so different but in the end be so alike. With just a few changes that could be my story. Even at eighty those early emotions still are with me.
This is a special gift now, a poignant visit to a better place, a happier (or at least simpler) time.
Thank you