For everyone there is something in history they wish they could have witnessed, or, better yet, been a part of. For me, it’s always been the sixties. The year 1969 to be specific. On a farm in outback New York. Sound familiar? Yes, as a teenager, disappointed with what modern music had to offer, I turned to the classics; to the songs that caused such social upheaval and started revolutions, songs that created the teenager.
And when the rain started, my friends and I would let it come down on us and soak us to the skin. We would slide down the banks and then jump in the lake, all the while people that would go down in history as some of the greatest musicians of all time played on.
If my novel ever gets published, I know people will ask me “What inspired you to write about 1940’s Wellington?” To be honest, I don’t know. I started writing a novel based in 1960s America when I was about 20 and, although I may pursue it again someday, those files lie dormant on my computer. I can’t remember when I decided to base my book in the forties, it kind of just happened that way.
As I walk through the city, I am surrounded by a sea of hat-wearing people. Men in suits no matter what their profession and ladies in tailored suits and dresses with felt hats on their heads. There is a scattering of soldiers, their presence reminding people there is a war going on. Trams carry the people from A to B.
And in amongst all of this are fretting mothers with sons away at war, exhausted fathers trying to scrape together a living, and young people who should be enjoying the innocence of young love but are instead mixed up in the turmoil and forced to think like adults.
So, if you could travel to any era, where would you go, what would you do, and why?