Pay Attention , Son

                     



    One of the functions of being a parent is teaching certain skills to your kids - little things that only you know and can pass down to the next generation.  Things that will be more useful in life than anything ever taught in school.  In this my parents were a flowing fountain of knowledge which was passed along to me starting at an early age.
    For instance - when my brother Pat and I got old enough and tall enough to push the power mower with all four wheels on the ground ( I was about 9 - 10 ), Dad taught us how to mow the grass. This is a very useful skill which I continue to use today although I do it on a riding mower.  Brother Pat , having a higher form of intelligence,  just moved to Arizona where they don't have grass.
    Dad taught me how to check the oil, wrap the starter cord around the motor pulley, adjust the throttle and choke then pull hard on the cord. This procedure didn't always produce the desired results so you needed to know how to check the spark plug for spark and here again Dad was the Mr. Wizard.  He gave me the spark plug to hold while he pulled hard on the starter cord. The next thing that happened was that the jolt I received from the spark plug sent me rolling backwards across the lawn.  My fingers felt as if a firecracker had exploded in them and were numb for a long time.  It didn't seem funny to me but Dad got a good laugh out of it.
    Driving was a skill Dad had down pat, after all he used to be a cab driver after the war and Mom couldn't teach me because she didn't know how to drive. The first time Dad tried to teach me to drive a car I was still in grade school and only by stretching would my toes touch the pedals. I told this story in an earlier posting and to keep from repeating let's just say that it was a good thing that bush was there to stop us. He waited until I was about 16 to try again.
    Dad taught me a multitude of things - how to bait a fish hook and how to slide your hand around a fish's  body to lay down the fins so you wouldn't get punctured while taking the hook out. He taught me to tie knots although the only one I can remember is the bowline. He taught me to drive a boat and water ski.  I haven't water skied since I was about fifty but fishing is a great past time.  Hopefully I will advance to Catching before I get too old and arthritic to work the reel.  From him I developed a love of the water and respect for the things it could do.
    Dad was a butcher - the best in the business. A walk past the meat dept of a grocery store today reminds me of Dad, there is an aroma that permeates a butcher shop and when I smell it I want to look around for Dad. Once in a bourbon induced moment of melancholy he told me his dream was to open his own butcher shop and have his sons work beside him as he taught them the trade. He taught me to use a knife but evidently not well enough.  Turns out brother Clint was the only one with the skill of a butcher. Dad never realized his dream but I know that for a short time he was proud to have Clint working next to him.
    Now Mom on the other hand taught me much more valuable skills to insure my survival.  Dad may have taught me drive a car but Mom showed me how to open the cans of food I bought from the store and prepare them for consumption.  Any fool can drive a car but can he cook?
    Actually Mom passed along her knowledge because she had five kids and needed help in a big way. My only sister was still a baby by the time I was nine but I could peel, cook and mash potatoes, make toast ( with out a toaster ) and fry Bologna. Making biscuits from scratch is an art form which I never developed - mine could be used for hockey pucks.
    Doing laundry is always a useful skill and someday I must get Linda to show me how to use the more modern machines. I learned to wash clothes using a wringer washing machine. It was portable and could easily be rolled to any part of the kitchen. After the clothes went thru the agitation process and were rinsed you had to swing the roller section over the tub and insert a steady stream of clothes thru the rollers where the water would be compressed from them. The drier was located in the back yard and consisted of a series of wire lines (4 or 5 ) strung from one " T " shaped post to another. In the summer time clothes dried fast, in the winter they just froze. The term " rain water soft " came from leaving the clothes on the line during a storm and allowing them to dry afterwards.
    Once the clothes were brought in from the clothes line, things like sheets and towels were folded the rest went into a basket for ironing this too was a lesson to be learned. There were no wash and wear or perma press clothes in the 1950's.  If you wanted a smooth look it had to be ironed with a steam iron. Mom's steam iron consisted of a regular iron and a coke bottle full of water with a sprinkler head, it was ironic that you took the time to dry clothes and then you poured water on them so you could iron them. I was pretty good at ironing - pretty much anything you wore on your body had to be ironed, jeans, shirts, Sunday go to meeting clothes. The one thing I hated to iron was Dad's handkerchiefs, let's face it,  here was an item that was going to be stuffed folded into a back pocket and pulled out so you could blow your nose into it and then all wadded up stuffed back into the rear pocket where the snot would dry and harden. Dad went thru a handkerchief every day whether he had a cold or not.
    I didn't realize until years later just how much I learned from my parents.  Much was ingrained in me without any realization that I was being taught. So many things in life quickly become mundane, everyday routine things that if you think about them you probably won't remember when or where you picked them up. I guess some things have a way of rubbing off on you when you least expect it.
    Recently my sons have eluded to skills that up until now I would have sworn they would never have - the interest was never there . Much of their informative years I traveled and worked long hours, yet some of this new found knowledge had to have come from me but I don't remember passing it along or that they were listening at the time.  Linda must have told them stories.
    Generations of parents have passed their knowledge, skills and demeanor to their sons and daughters whether they knew they were or not. The lessons are at times hard and painful but the outcome can be useful and memories boundless if you paid attention.