Stepping back 20, 30, 40, 50 years

In a little over a week, COVID-19 lockdown permitting, we get away on a holiday that will be our first substantial holiday since our honeymoon in May 2007.  We’re going to my hometown of Karratha.  I grew up in Dampier (1969 – 1974) and Karratha (1976 – 1988) before returning to Karratha (1991 – 1996) to start a family.

My early upbringing was simple.  Dad, Mum, and my two brothers.  We lost our sister, Debra Leanne, to stillbirth in 1973.

Dad worked for the mining company, Hamersley Iron, my brothers later did apprenticeships there, and I worked there as a mechanical tradesperson in my adult years.  The work was hot and dirty, but I loved it.  So many great memories and my only regret was we never took photos back in the 1990s like we do today, so all I have is my memories.

I reminisce now because there have been significant changes for my parents negotiating the ageing process—and it’s dawned on me afresh that they won’t be around forever.

The trip north will be an emotional homecoming.  It’s 18 years since I visited the region every few months for work to do safety audits of fuel and oil distribution operations.

My life and my entire person, who I am, is completely different to that day—18 years ago.  It’s like I had my childhood, my first adulthood (1986 – 2003), and now I’m on my second adulthood.  Think of it this way.  When my daughters to my first marriage had basically grown up (21, 18, 15) we had our son.

Philosophically there’s a lot of difference between who I was and how I lived life in 2001 compared to who I am and how I live in 2021; though in essence none of us change that much.

For our trip north, we’re driving and towing a trailer we’ve fitted out for camping.  It’s been a lot of fun.  My father-in-law has helped us with the electrics, and I’ve ensured that mechanically it’s sound for the 3,000 km round trip.  We’ll be camping at one of the caravan parks I often frequented when I was a young adult in 1987-1988.

Back in those days, life revolved around getting wasted, drinking on weekends, parties, laughter, muscle cars, great music.  In so many ways, I’m thankful for all these experiences, the friendships, the laughs, the stories—it was a completely different time back then.

I’ve found since turning 50 that I no longer worry about certain things.  I’m also a lot more reflective regarding the early years of my life—actually, I’m reflective about all aspects of my past, all time periods... even those of the relatively recent past.

Going north will be a three-day trek as we camp at Geraldton, then Carnarvon, before arriving in Karratha.  I can’t wait to reacquaint with dear friends, Steve and Bec, up there.  It’s been so long since we sat and chatted and laughed.  I’m so thankful for all the stories that makes up our history together.

One of the biggest highlights, being a person of place and country, like my Aboriginal brothers and sisters, will be visiting the houses I grew up in and lived in as an adult.  I wonder if I knock on those doors whether I might be able to get myself invited to have a look around?  I’m one of those people who is prepared to risk a ‘no!’  Don’t know if you don’t ask.

Those houses in Forrest Crescent, Dampier, and Clarkson Way, Hunt Way and Walcott Way in Karratha.  Even significant friends’ houses.

There are also the gullies and streets I used to roam.  The football and cricket ovals I played at.  The schools I went to (though one has been demolished and the other is completely remodelled).  There’s the Light Industrial Area (Industrial Estate) that doesn’t look like it’s changed—I spent four years (1984 – 1987) doing my apprenticeship there.  Then there’s places like the Harding River Dam and Millstream I’d be tempted to visit, but probably won’t have time.

I’d like to get some time to walk around town—including Dampier, Wickham, Roebourne, Point Samson—especially the places that were significant.  Pegs Creek Oval, Bulgarra Oval, Windy Ridge Oval, Dampier Primary School (looks almost unchanged structurally since 1973 when I started), Karratha’s Radio Hill.

The emotional part of all this is obvious.  So many memories.  So many periods of time and places I’d just love to go back to, even for five minutes.  So many opportunities to slow down and ponder walking those streets 20, 30, 40, 50 years ago.

What about you?  Where did you grow up?  Do you have a hankering to go back and revisit early childhood, adolescence, young adult years, early career, etc?