was a character. My father has strong character. I have characteristics of my grandfather and I share a strength of character with my father.
One of the greatest aspects of having multigenerational friendships is that I’m able to observe the cyclical nature of humanity. My Father’s generation is remembering its passed. My generation is burying its past. The younger generations are building its presents and making its presence. And I appreciate having a presence in the midst of the melee.
I have no children. I sired no sons. I doted on no daughters. When I turned 36, I was devastated. I yearned for a lineage. I filled with regret and sopped in the sorrow. And then I came to the realization that I had drawn the line and made my choices. Should I marry, I’d remain childless. I’m too old to care for anyone so young. And with diabetic feet I’d rather not step. I don’t wish to be stepped over. And I don’t wish to step aside.
I raised my nephews and I treasured the task. Yet I knew they weren’t mine. I don’t know why men feel the need to carry on a surname. I felt that though. I hate being called “sir” and I’ve been called enough names to answer exclusively to my own. I intend to make my mark but I don’t see myself leaving my mark. I have self-confidence and I know that I’m unique and I treasure my distinctions. I’m sorry they won’t be continued. I’m certain they’ll be missed.
I’ve learned these valuable parenting principles from my parents while I raised my nephews. I’ll pass them on here:
1. Never lie to your children. It’s a new unspoiled relationship. If you don’t think you’ll have to answer for your actions to your God and face His consequences, be assured you will have to answer to your children. Your son will question “why” and he will not be satisfied until you offer adequate justification. If you doubt my veracity - wait until your son queries you about insects. He won’t exhaust his questions before you exhaust your knowledge. I assure you. Love is not his greatest need; truth is. You can trust the truth. Ambiguity is an imprisonment without logical or defined bars.
2. The greatest gift you can give your child is to remember what you felt, what you desired, and what worried you at his age. If you remember his proportion, you can offer appropriate portions of discipline, wisdom, and kindness. An allowance is not a monetary supplement. An allowance is a momentary indulgence that allows your child to be his age and be forgiven for his ignorance.
3. Silence is the outward sign that confusion is present. If your child is sullen and somber, take him into the kitchen, fill the dishpan, hand him a dishtowel, and remain quiet. No child can be bound to a space and not speak. He’ll spill. Listen. He doesn’t need your advice. He needs your ear. You wash; he’ll share.
4. Education is not the greatest gift you can offer a child. A spine was meant to hold flesh and principles, not just pages and texts. Teach him what to stand for, what to defend, and what to honor.
5. A child must honor his father and his mother. Act honorably. If you love him, why make the task unattainable?
6. It takes two parents to raise a child. One must inform the other when one parent is wrong. It’s a matter of simple civics: checks and balances.
7. Every child wants to hear every word you care to say. One of his first actions is to put his fist at your mouth. Remember the responsibility.
8. Every child must be the middle child. Why in the name of a good God would you make any child stand at the end? Surround him; your arms make a circle.
July 2, 2007
