Saturday morning I was talking to my son on the telephone when his five year old expressed an interest in talking to granddad. After exchanging greetings with Jake on the phone, he suggested that we Face Time. How did five year olds get to be so smart? What a clever idea! The immediate contrast between the audio exchange of information over the phone and the audio/visual exchange of information via the computer was incredible. Truthfully, I emerged from the Face Time experience with Jake feeling like we’d had a personal visit. The only thing missing was the opportunity to give him a hug.
He recounted for me the week he and his mother had shared while his older siblings were in day camps. They, too, made the week and adventure. He found sand dollars on the beach, went to the aquarium, was granted permission to eat ice cream for breakfast one day and thoroughly enjoyed the time shared with his mother exploring new places. Jakes facial expressions, the sparkle in his eyes as he talked and the animated mannerisms he expressed while talking filled me with delight. He is a happy kid caught up in the joys of learning and experiencing new things.
This morning as I drove to Houston, I thought about Jake and his siblings and the wonderful sense of family and home they share together. They are happy, active, well-adjusted, smart and mostly well behaved children. In thinking about my grandchildren, I had a flashback to my own childhood years and growing up in my family of origin. In reality, it wasn’t that dissimilar from the childhood my grandchildren are experiencing.
My mother was very much like my grandchildren’s mother. My mother was extremely child focused and she orchestrated opportunities for her children. She ensured my brothers and I engaged in activities at church. She volunteered to assist in the PTA when we were in elementary school. She baked goods for our home room activities at school. She served as a “den mother” for cub scouts; she purchased the valentines we took to every person in our classes when Valentine’s Day came around. She took us to the library every week through summer months and ensured we read a book a week. She took us roller skating. She took us to movies, the community swimming pool, parades, etc. She made every birthday a special day for us. Our lives were filled with activities and we, too, took delight in life.
Like my grandchildren, we were also mostly well-behaved. There were times as brothers we fought like “cats and dogs,” but we were pretty close-knit. My mother didn’t work outside the home during our growing up years and she ran a pretty tight ship. She was quick to referee when conflict broke out. Mostly, her solution was to separate us during the skirmish and announce that she didn’t want to hear another word. I can truthfully attest to the fact that Mother was a person of her word. When she said, “I don’t want to hear another word”, it was non-negotiable. Ronnie and Larry were much quicker in catching on to that reality than me. I gained the reputation as the “yes, but” kid because I always wanted to tell my side of the story. Hands down, I got twice as many spankings as either of my brothers because I could not be silenced.
Even today, I am hopeful that no one ever provides me a Miranda Warning. If I ever am told, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law”, I’d mess that up in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t be able to stay quiet. I guess there are some things you never learn. At least I’m predictably consistent.
I might also add, there are any number of other reasons that I hope no one ever provides me a Miranda Warning. Periodically through my childhood Mother periodically warned me about my “permanent record.” For example, report cards. Your grades had to be good because that was part of your permanent record.
There are some difference between how my grandchildren experience life and how we experienced life during my childhood years, but in the total scheme of things, the differences are inconsequential when it comes to enjoyment and delight in life. For example, the home my grandchildren live in is a large two story home with the view of a lake in the background. The home I grew up in was much smaller and the neighborhood wasn’t very picturesque unless you valued tumble weeds.
I have heard peers I grew up with talk about their families being poor. I never had the sense that we were poor. My dad was a “blue collar” worker, but he worked hard and he provided for his family. We never did without anything we needed. I never had the sense that we ran out of money before we ran out of the month. In fact, I can guarantee you that my dad always saved something from every paycheck. It was simply a reflection of one of the values he thought important.
At one point, my dad had three sons in college at the same time. That would be a stretch for almost any family, but he managed. He thought education was important and he wanted to ensure his sons were equipped for life. He saw it as his responsibility to cover the costs and he gladly provided the resources that we needed.
Living today in an era of affluence, I see people who have plentiful resources, but somehow don’t provide for the basic needs of their children. I am not referencing the lower level of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I’m talking about some of the higher level needs. I’m talking about the importance of providing one’s children a sense of delight with life. I’m talking about creating an environment where children have a sense of self-esteem, confidence, respect and the ability to respect others. These are the things my grandchildren are provided and they are the things we were provided as children. With that in the background, the American Dream becomes one’s reality.
All My Best!
Don