I'm finding that as I get older and go hunting for them, some memories come back to me quite vividly. Of course, most of my childhood is just a blur :)
Jeffrey, I cannot tell you how much I love this essay. From the description of your childhood armory, and the remarkable ingenuity with which you created your weapons and strategies (stringing the conkers together, hardening them over the winter) to the stories of the mochimochi tree and the tragic details of Sugita’s life, you had me spellbound. “The new bikes gave us greater range; we were upgraded versions of ourselves.” Now that’s a one-sentence statement of how it feels to be a master of the universe.
I did not know that horse chestnuts were found outside of the U.S. My first experience with them was when we moved into our second house, the one I live in now. It was one of two trees we saved. (Our yard was almost as big a horror as our house, and that is saying something.) My kids called the fruit “spikes,” and had many battles with them. My daughter and her friends hung their Barbie dolls by the neck from its branches. As far as I know, this is the only horse chestnut in the neighborhood. They’re regarded as nuisance trees. But mine is a gift. As is this essay.
Mary, I'm so grateful that you've written your own lovely essay of remembrance here and for your kind words. Your words are a beautiful gift!
I'm also interested to hear that horse chestnut trees are consdiered a nuisance. Perhaps they would be in England, if there were often found in ordinary gardens?
I so enjoy the shape of these pieces, and their variety of form and content. This one spirals outward from your memory into research across your travels. Others start with research and spiral inward to your experience. It’s always a treat and I always learn something new!
Those chestnuts! Yes, a joy of childhood to pick them up and test that smooth patina with your hands. It’s been forever since I did that. Thx for reminding me—
Thank you for that kind comment, Victoria. Coming as it does from someone so sensitive to form, it's very encouraging for me. I don't know about you, but sometimes I try to shape the essay's form, at other times it seems to do that all by itself.
We were in England in September 1995 with our three American kids and my English family taught them how to play conkers. All these years later, our grown up kids still remember and laugh about playing conkers. Thanks for a lovely article.
This brings back so many memories of “marrons” from the trees on the square in the small town where I grew up in Belgium where I used to wait for the school bus.😊 Thank you!
I used to love collecting conkers in the autumn! And conker fights of course! Oh, those were the days! 🙂🍂 And that story of the boy and the horse chestnut tree reminds me of a similar Tibetan one. It’s about an old man who, walking home one stormy night, spots a malevolent figure ahead. With his trusty walking stick at the ready, the old man stays frozen to that spot for hours. But then, as the sun starts to rise, he suddenly realises that the malevolent figure was nothing more than a gnarled tree - swaying in the wind. ✨
"What the heck is a conker?" I said, staring at the worksheet I downloaded for my 3rd graders in Thailand. It was an autumn seek and find activity booklet. And that was my first experience with a conker!
However, you have romanticized the conker tree for me and that is an improvement to my first impression. 😉
Oh I love this - I've got two conkers from a trip to Paris a couple of years ago, like picking up stones on a beach, they're so perfect. We never played the game, but of course, Bilbo Baggins mentions it in The Hobbit movie and when I looked it up, I said, "Oooo! I've got two conkers! Yay!"
Jeffery, like always, your beautiful writings remind me of my experiences.
This one reminded me of my experience last month, walking the Shanghai streets lined with “Wu Tong” (London Planetrees) in 40 degree (Celsius) weather, listening to the cicadas sang a Chinese song of “too damn hot” … 😅
Wonderful piece, Jeffrey. Very relatable. You captured that childhood feeling of being out exploring the neighbourhood and making fun out almost nothing.
In Australia, we’d collect ‘honky nuts’ (or that’s what we called them anyway) from gum trees. It was serious play and I enjoyed it a lot. Your piece reminded me of that. Thank you. :)
Thank you, Michael, for those kind words and for sharing your own memories. I'm going to look up honky nuts. I'd heard of being stuck up a gum tree, but wasn't sure they actually existed… 🙂
Jeffrey, thank you for this leisurely walk between ages, cultures and literary forms. Your meditation on chestnuts is reminiscent of Robert Frost’s more melancholy “Birches,” which also unspools from a universal boyhood memory of the child in the natural world. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44260/birches
This is such a warm and evocative ode to the beautifully uncomplicated delights of childhood. Your lyrical meditation is a perfect companion work to your earlier piece on Dylan Thomas, my favorite of your writings. Thanks for granting this moment of contemplative space to recall encounters with the polished conkers in our own experiences—a welcome reminder that joy may be more attainable than we imagine in our lives.
Thank you, Alisa! "Joy may be more attainable than we imagine in our lives" is a good way of putting it. It's there if we remember to look, in poems, polished conkers or anything else.
Thank you Jeffrey, for this beautiful, nostalgic piece and the lovely illustrations. I too remember the conker techniques... A good swing to build up momentum used to work well I think. And I just remember the feel of them in my hand, silky smooth...
This was delightful. We have a lot of horse chestnut trees here in Oregon so I had to ask my husband if, when he was a boy, he too used them as weapons. Nope, but he did love polishing them on his pants and then carried them around in his pockets to handle. The original fidget toys!
A really beautiful essay Jeffrey, as I think you now prefer to be known. I had more or less forgotten conkers until I came to Romania - none in the likes of Kuwait or Bangkok as you can imagine. They were abundant last year in the nicest parts of the city with the interwar villas and the main park. It felt strange in a way that nobody was picking them up. I gathered a few thinking they might inspire our mature cats to a bit of running down the corridor but they didn't even deign to look at them....
I remember as a kid there were bumper years and lean years. This year I haven't noticed them (yet). A mission for Sunday.
I've read that the Horse Chestnut tree originates from southeast Europe, so maybe you're at the conker epicentre? And perhaps you can introduce conker contests before you leave...? Enjoy your last autumn there.
Omiyage sounds incredible! These illustrations are also beautiful. It would have been a fun job to do the botanical illustrations back in the day. What a wonderful reflective piece, Jeffrey.
You can buy almost anything as “omiyage” to take home to friends and family from your travels. But within Japan, sweets of various kinds, especially wrapped for the purpose and available at highway service stations, train stations, and tourist destinations, are the most popular.
It's a dreamy painting isn't it?
I'm finding that as I get older and go hunting for them, some memories come back to me quite vividly. Of course, most of my childhood is just a blur :)
Jeffrey, I cannot tell you how much I love this essay. From the description of your childhood armory, and the remarkable ingenuity with which you created your weapons and strategies (stringing the conkers together, hardening them over the winter) to the stories of the mochimochi tree and the tragic details of Sugita’s life, you had me spellbound. “The new bikes gave us greater range; we were upgraded versions of ourselves.” Now that’s a one-sentence statement of how it feels to be a master of the universe.
I did not know that horse chestnuts were found outside of the U.S. My first experience with them was when we moved into our second house, the one I live in now. It was one of two trees we saved. (Our yard was almost as big a horror as our house, and that is saying something.) My kids called the fruit “spikes,” and had many battles with them. My daughter and her friends hung their Barbie dolls by the neck from its branches. As far as I know, this is the only horse chestnut in the neighborhood. They’re regarded as nuisance trees. But mine is a gift. As is this essay.
Mary, I'm so grateful that you've written your own lovely essay of remembrance here and for your kind words. Your words are a beautiful gift!
I'm also interested to hear that horse chestnut trees are consdiered a nuisance. Perhaps they would be in England, if there were often found in ordinary gardens?
I so enjoy the shape of these pieces, and their variety of form and content. This one spirals outward from your memory into research across your travels. Others start with research and spiral inward to your experience. It’s always a treat and I always learn something new!
Those chestnuts! Yes, a joy of childhood to pick them up and test that smooth patina with your hands. It’s been forever since I did that. Thx for reminding me—
Thank you for that kind comment, Victoria. Coming as it does from someone so sensitive to form, it's very encouraging for me. I don't know about you, but sometimes I try to shape the essay's form, at other times it seems to do that all by itself.
We were in England in September 1995 with our three American kids and my English family taught them how to play conkers. All these years later, our grown up kids still remember and laugh about playing conkers. Thanks for a lovely article.
Thank you, Lorraine. I'm glad that this brought back some good memories.
This brings back so many memories of “marrons” from the trees on the square in the small town where I grew up in Belgium where I used to wait for the school bus.😊 Thank you!
I used to love collecting conkers in the autumn! And conker fights of course! Oh, those were the days! 🙂🍂 And that story of the boy and the horse chestnut tree reminds me of a similar Tibetan one. It’s about an old man who, walking home one stormy night, spots a malevolent figure ahead. With his trusty walking stick at the ready, the old man stays frozen to that spot for hours. But then, as the sun starts to rise, he suddenly realises that the malevolent figure was nothing more than a gnarled tree - swaying in the wind. ✨
Thank you for sharing those memories, James - and for the story about the old man and the tree, which feels like a parable.
"What the heck is a conker?" I said, staring at the worksheet I downloaded for my 3rd graders in Thailand. It was an autumn seek and find activity booklet. And that was my first experience with a conker!
However, you have romanticized the conker tree for me and that is an improvement to my first impression. 😉
Thank you, Lani! 😊 I'm glad to hear that the post was more interesting than the worksheet!
I didn’t say that…Hahahahahaha.
Oh I love this - I've got two conkers from a trip to Paris a couple of years ago, like picking up stones on a beach, they're so perfect. We never played the game, but of course, Bilbo Baggins mentions it in The Hobbit movie and when I looked it up, I said, "Oooo! I've got two conkers! Yay!"
I'm really glad you enjoyed this one, Troy. I've not seen The Hobbit but conkers seem perfect for the Shires.
Jeffery, like always, your beautiful writings remind me of my experiences.
This one reminded me of my experience last month, walking the Shanghai streets lined with “Wu Tong” (London Planetrees) in 40 degree (Celsius) weather, listening to the cicadas sang a Chinese song of “too damn hot” … 😅
Thank you, Xue Yi! The cicadas are good at singing that song, aren't they? Your mention of the plane trees makes nostalgic for Shanghai!
Wonderful piece, Jeffrey. Very relatable. You captured that childhood feeling of being out exploring the neighbourhood and making fun out almost nothing.
In Australia, we’d collect ‘honky nuts’ (or that’s what we called them anyway) from gum trees. It was serious play and I enjoyed it a lot. Your piece reminded me of that. Thank you. :)
Thank you, Michael, for those kind words and for sharing your own memories. I'm going to look up honky nuts. I'd heard of being stuck up a gum tree, but wasn't sure they actually existed… 🙂
Yep they exist. Certain birds around peck the honky nuts to get the seeds inside. Also, if you look them up they might also be called gum nuts. :)
Jeffrey, thank you for this leisurely walk between ages, cultures and literary forms. Your meditation on chestnuts is reminiscent of Robert Frost’s more melancholy “Birches,” which also unspools from a universal boyhood memory of the child in the natural world. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44260/birches
This is such a warm and evocative ode to the beautifully uncomplicated delights of childhood. Your lyrical meditation is a perfect companion work to your earlier piece on Dylan Thomas, my favorite of your writings. Thanks for granting this moment of contemplative space to recall encounters with the polished conkers in our own experiences—a welcome reminder that joy may be more attainable than we imagine in our lives.
Thank you, Alisa! "Joy may be more attainable than we imagine in our lives" is a good way of putting it. It's there if we remember to look, in poems, polished conkers or anything else.
I hope you have a joy-imbued week!
Thank you, you too!
Thank you Jeffrey, for this beautiful, nostalgic piece and the lovely illustrations. I too remember the conker techniques... A good swing to build up momentum used to work well I think. And I just remember the feel of them in my hand, silky smooth...
Thank you, Emma. Yes, they're lovely to handle, aren't they?
Hard and soft at the same time…
This was delightful. We have a lot of horse chestnut trees here in Oregon so I had to ask my husband if, when he was a boy, he too used them as weapons. Nope, but he did love polishing them on his pants and then carried them around in his pockets to handle. The original fidget toys!
Thank you, Kimberly! Yes, the original fidget toy, nice!
A really beautiful essay Jeffrey, as I think you now prefer to be known. I had more or less forgotten conkers until I came to Romania - none in the likes of Kuwait or Bangkok as you can imagine. They were abundant last year in the nicest parts of the city with the interwar villas and the main park. It felt strange in a way that nobody was picking them up. I gathered a few thinking they might inspire our mature cats to a bit of running down the corridor but they didn't even deign to look at them....
I remember as a kid there were bumper years and lean years. This year I haven't noticed them (yet). A mission for Sunday.
Thank you, Andrew!
I've read that the Horse Chestnut tree originates from southeast Europe, so maybe you're at the conker epicentre? And perhaps you can introduce conker contests before you leave...? Enjoy your last autumn there.
Omiyage sounds incredible! These illustrations are also beautiful. It would have been a fun job to do the botanical illustrations back in the day. What a wonderful reflective piece, Jeffrey.
Thank you very much, Kate!
You can buy almost anything as “omiyage” to take home to friends and family from your travels. But within Japan, sweets of various kinds, especially wrapped for the purpose and available at highway service stations, train stations, and tourist destinations, are the most popular.