Do you REALLY remember your childhood? I thought I did. I'm doing a childhood memory swap with Margaret, Linda, Carole and Patty (we named ourselves the Queen Bees which Linda has now shortened to "QB5"). I thought I had it in the bag. I knew exactly what I wanted to portray. Something altered looking with old stuff. Something pretty typical looking. Formula even. You know, "formula" for altered art.
Then I looked in the photo album and found something other than what I was looking for. My real, authentic childhood. Hardly formula. I am a first generation American whose first language was Byelorussian. I couldn't speak English until I started school (kindergarten) and was forced to learn to communicate. To this day, I remember kindergarten as a mostly silent movie. I didn't understand most of what the teacher said until later in the school year.
Anyway, I digress (as I am prone to do). So here's the photograph I found to use in the childhood postcard (4x6) swap. I am about 4-5 years old, dressed in a Byelorussian national costume, posing with my brother Victor. Mom took pictures of us when we were dressed for church or other special event. Here, we were probably ready to go to a festival. I always felt different. Not American. I hated being different. Now I enjoy it. Mine was not a Norman Rockewell, sepia colored upbringing. I lived with Eastern European folk designs and several languages spoken when visiting with friends (Russian, Polish, Ukranian and Byelorussian). Now I can't speak my first language to save my life, but I can understand a smattering of several.
What about your childhood makes you who you are today? I would love to read about it! Post a picture and send me a link.