Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.

 

—Marcel Proust

 

Today, I want to talk to you about the N-word.

Nostalgia.

It’s an emotion that you know all too well, don’t you?

It’s a quiet, aching emotion. One that washes over you when you find yourself pining for a comfortable past. You mourn the fact that it seems to have slipped away. You yearn for it to come back again. The good old days.

 

My mum and dad at a recent Mother’s Day lunch. Source: Author

 

When it comes to nostalgia, my own family is no different. We indulge in it all the time, especially as we sit around the dining table:

  • My mum and dad are Baby Boomers. So, yes, they are prone to experiencing bouts of melancholy and wistfulness. Occasionally, they will reflect upon the memories of their youth.
  • For my parents, the 1950s to the 1970s felt like a golden period. They had a rural upbringing in northwest Peninsular Malaysia. They grew up in a village settlement which was surrounded by lush and leafy plantations.
  • They were educated in missionary schools with Methodist-Christian roots, originally set up by British colonials. Back then, the main source of income for the working-class population was tapping rubber trees and creating latex.
  • In those days, access to electricity was still in its infancy. Most people did not have cars. My parents say that it was a peaceful and idyllic time to grow up…

 

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