I was just reading in Newsweek about the book, "The Dangerous Book for Boys." The book is gaining popularity - not because of it's ability to offer trivia, history, and advice for pre-teen boys - but because of the nostalgia it provides for men in their 30s and 40s. "Picture a world where your father walks with you down a starlit road, pausing to point out Orion. He recites Robert Frost, knows how a battery works - and all the rules about girls."
The article was commenting on how men, in our technologically-driven, modern world, feel they have litte, if any, fatherly advice or experiences to pass on to their sons. Quoted in the article is Stephanie Coontz, author of "The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap," who says that parents worry they aren't spending as much time with their kids as past generations did. In truth, she says, "people are spending more interactive time and resources on their kids than ever before." The real problem is they think they have less to teach them.
I know I thought about this even before I had children. I am not mechanically-inclined. I don't know how to fix an engine or build a tree house. As I jokingly state, "I have the spiritual gift of lifting. If you need something moved, call me!"
What skill-set am I supposed to pass on to my son and daughter? What happens if they are small and weak and cannot lift anything? What will they thank me for some year down the road as they tell my grandchildren everything they learned from me? "Yeah...your grandfather...he really understood how to move a piano..."
Maybe this is why I am so passionate about getting my kids out into the wilderness. Here is a skill-set, an experience, that I can pass on to my children and to their children. I want them to discover the joy of camping and hiking and rock climbing and whitewater rafting. I want to see their surprise and appreciation as they encounter wild animals in their natural habitats and as they stand at the edge of a cliff overlooking a deep, mountainous valley. I want to hear their laughter as they swim in a mountain stream and explore the tidepools along the beach. I want to watch their eyes twinkle and their imaginations expand as they watch a sunset or gaze up at the Milky Way. I want them to eat food that was cooked on a fire in the middle of nowhere. I want them to get dirty and smelly and learn how to poop in the woods.
I want them to learn to love the unknown and to experience the thrill of discovery. I want them to learn ingenuity, creativity, and resourcefulness as they adapt and overcome any obstacle that comes their way. These are traits, after all, that will benefit them no matter what course they choose in life. And these are traits that I can pass on to each of them.
The article was commenting on how men, in our technologically-driven, modern world, feel they have litte, if any, fatherly advice or experiences to pass on to their sons. Quoted in the article is Stephanie Coontz, author of "The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap," who says that parents worry they aren't spending as much time with their kids as past generations did. In truth, she says, "people are spending more interactive time and resources on their kids than ever before." The real problem is they think they have less to teach them.
I know I thought about this even before I had children. I am not mechanically-inclined. I don't know how to fix an engine or build a tree house. As I jokingly state, "I have the spiritual gift of lifting. If you need something moved, call me!"
What skill-set am I supposed to pass on to my son and daughter? What happens if they are small and weak and cannot lift anything? What will they thank me for some year down the road as they tell my grandchildren everything they learned from me? "Yeah...your grandfather...he really understood how to move a piano..."
Maybe this is why I am so passionate about getting my kids out into the wilderness. Here is a skill-set, an experience, that I can pass on to my children and to their children. I want them to discover the joy of camping and hiking and rock climbing and whitewater rafting. I want to see their surprise and appreciation as they encounter wild animals in their natural habitats and as they stand at the edge of a cliff overlooking a deep, mountainous valley. I want to hear their laughter as they swim in a mountain stream and explore the tidepools along the beach. I want to watch their eyes twinkle and their imaginations expand as they watch a sunset or gaze up at the Milky Way. I want them to eat food that was cooked on a fire in the middle of nowhere. I want them to get dirty and smelly and learn how to poop in the woods.
I want them to learn to love the unknown and to experience the thrill of discovery. I want them to learn ingenuity, creativity, and resourcefulness as they adapt and overcome any obstacle that comes their way. These are traits, after all, that will benefit them no matter what course they choose in life. And these are traits that I can pass on to each of them.
1 comment:
Great post.
I was just thinking about this same idea of legacy with my son @ when we were standing outside the other night under the stars. I couldn't tell him about all the constellations but I could point out the Southern Cross (you can't see it in the US) and a the planet and that one of those moving lights was an airplane...
And then yesterday, he went around carrying a spare piece of PVC talking about how he and Sharptooth (his invisible friend) were going to fix the water tank - a job Amanda and I did the day before.
Legacies are left by time spent but also, more so, by examples observed.
Thanks for the thoughts.
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