Cross My Heart

There’s a childhood practise of making promises by spitting in the palm of your hand and shaking hands with the person with whom you were making the pledge or promise. Kylie Minogue did this exact same thing when she promised to catch up with the woman who interviewed for the first time after her cancer ordeal. She made a promise they’d do the interview again when she turned 50. Just to see how she was travelling.

Issues of political correctness or even hygiene aside, I found it a refreshing act of true bluism (an australianism to describe a person being genuine, fair dinkum or just plain honest). Minogue’s actions had such a lovely ring of childhood sincerity about them.

Growing up, we used to say things like, “cross our hearts and hope to die” which of course none of us in our right minds would have really wanted to come good with or would even been loathe to do unless push came to shove and even then, well, I would have my reservations as to whether they just wouldn’t opt for the shove!

It was just something that you said, a rather convenient truth even. I think at the time, one did say these things with a degree of earnestness that had to be heard to be admired. I think in a childsome way it was all about the intention rather than what we were actually saying.

Childhood practises, do they grow up with us? Have we internalised old rituals that add both colour and dash to the fabric of our being? I believe so, do you? Think about it. I hope so, cross my heart.