Generation to Generation: Passing Along the Good Life to Your Children

INTRODUCTION

BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE

There is a land of the living and a land of the dead. The bridge is love; the only truth, the only survival. --Thornton Wilder

Sometimes, we parents wait until it's too late to convey our love and pass on our beliefs to our children.

We wait until we're ready, but, by then, they've already flown the nest.
We wait for our children to seek our wisdom, but they seldom get around to it.
We wait for the right moment to open up and share, but it never seems to arrive.
We wait until our deathbed to tell them who we are and what we cherish, but it's too late.

Parenting tasks are awesome. Our tenure seems forever. But, sooner or later, we die. Parents suffer an unnecessary second-death, if we fail to transmit our values and visions to our children.

Failure to pass on ethical wisdom is a common familial plight. As a professional who does grief counseling, I am troubled by the amount of unfinished business at the time of death, especially between parents and children.

Death is the final parting. It strikes us all, parent and child alike, one after another, sometimes in a strange order and often in anguishing, abrupt fashion. The tragedy of family death is compounded when it catches the household unprepared, when sentiments of love and principles of life have not been adequately shared.

This book is a guide for those parents who want to make peace with themselves and their children before it's too late. It is for those who desire "to transmit the passwords from generation to generation" while they are alive. It is for those who want to pass on to their children in clear, simple terms what "the good life" means to them.

I am one of those parents.

I recently decided to share love-letters with my children, boldly bequeathing some of my deepest concerns and hopes for them. I was ready and eager to make out what the Jewish culture calls an "ethical will".

When you are dying, you aren't always in the best condition to share your core. There is also little assurance that your family or friends will be in good enough shape to hear what you struggle to say.

Sometimes we are cogent during our closing days, but I wouldn't count on it. To compose our ethical wills amid low energy and high upset, low keenness and high confusion doesn't seem like a good time, and it usually isn't.

It's staggering how much effort, both logistical and emotional, we expend sorting out the distribution of our earthly goods. Many of us agonize over the passing on of our material possessions before we die. Which of our children should get our shell or stamp collections? Who would enjoy the dresser, the piano, the china?

Rationally, we parents know that once we give over our goods, it is up to our children to do with them as they choose, not as we dictate. Emotionally, it is difficult to relinquish precious possessions when we aren't certain how they will be treated. Will our prized goods be treasured or ignored, appreciated or stored, enjoyed or sold?

The sadness is that we spend an inordinate amount of energy and worry over our legal wills and so little effort on our ethical ones. What our children need more than our goods are our goals, more than our perishables, are our principles, more than our possessions are our confessions and professions...in order to move ahead meaningfully with their own lives when we're gone.

I think of all the things Carolyn and I were going to write or say to our loved ones, but somehow never got around to sharing. Perhaps you do, too. We ministers are a lucky breed because we get to preach what we practice. We write about and to our children all along the way, letting them peek in on some of our primary fears and hopes. But none of us parents can do this often enough.

I'm quite conscious of the intentional or unintentional burdens, pressures and guilts we adults can implore upon our children, all in the name of loving advice. As we depart our earthly abode, our temptation is to get in our last licks, which is all the more reason to shape our ethical wills when we are far from the grave.

In short, it appears wise to put a "disclaimer" at the outset of our ethical wills, which might run something like this:

"Loved Ones,
These urgings of mine are to be filtered through your own hearts and minds and adapted accordingly. They are not commandments but reminders.

Neither bury them nor be buried by them. Listen to them as long as you can, and if you finish listening before I finish writing, put them away for a later reading.

Oh, by the way, I left wide margins for your own thoughts as you take in some of mine. I invite you to reach back as I reach out.

Yours, Dad"

Why did I choose to write letters to my children rather than use another mode of communication? There are many reasons.

Letters are our most intimate form of written exchange. They enable us to be anecdotal and personal. I certainly don't wish to leave my children mere sermons or a reading list. A letter is just right.

Letters are a readable length. Who wants to wade through ponderous ethical essays? My desire is to awaken my children rather than put them to sleep.

Letters are a familiar form of human interaction. All ages know how to write them. Everyone enjoys receiving them, witnessed by our daily raids on the mailbox.

Letters are lifeblood to a love-relationship. My hope in this book is that Chris, Jenny, Russ and Erin will feel excitement when my love-letters arrive. Perhaps after reading them they will be sufficiently moved to write letters to their own offspring someday, to keep the chain going. But anything beyond their reading these letters is bonus indeed.

Moreover, letters are tangible, durable products which, if carefully preserved, will last across the generations. Our children have long since forgotten many of our verbal admonitions or aspirations for them. Anecdotes, left to memory, are often mangled in the retelling.

On the other hand, letters, even some of our mediocre ones, tend to be saved by family members. They give our children something concrete to refer back to as they mature.

If your ethical will, or set of letters, is placed into an attractive, sturdy binder, I bet it will be preserved far into your children's futures.

I think of the aptness of Tillie Olsen's line: "Every woman who writes is a survivor." When we write, men or women, we are moving outside ourselves. When we write, we are publicly witnessing to what we hold dear. When we write, we reach within, reach out and reach beyond, venturing gifts in trust and love.

Through our letters we survive.

In summary, I don't want to go to the grave with my children guessing about my deepest wishes and challenges for them. An ethical will brings me closer to them during my life and after my death.

Why 52 letters? I wanted our children to read one letter per week. Each letter can be read in a matter of minutes. However, my hope has been that it may take a week's worth of reflection to digest them. Then a lifetime for each child to try them on for size.

WHY WERE YOU NOT ZUSYA?

Before his death, Rabbi Zusya said: "In the coming world, they will not ask me: Why were you not Moses? They will ask me: Why were you not Zusya?" --Martin Buber

Dear Unique Kids,

One of your main goals while on earth is to become who you really are. You are not Florence Nightengale or Michael Jackson, Jane Fonda or Moses. You are Chris, Jenny, Russ and Erin. Kids, please don't waste time being anybody else but yourselves. That will be enough challenge to consume your time and effort.

There is an Ashleigh Brilliant cartoon, which reads: "I may not be totally perfect, but parts of me are excellent." I contend that each of you has many excellent parts to your being, more than you might even recognize thus far on your journey, different parts in each of you, but excellent ones for sure.

One of you four children, I don't remember which one, came home one day from the primary grades and announced: "I think I'll finally try to be myself. I've tried everything else, and it just hasn't worked out!"

Beautiful! Your learning was right on target.

Now, don't worry about deadlines in this search for self. You will need most of your lifetime to sort out just who you actually are. There is no rush. Move at your own pace.

Let me pass on to you guys one of my own discoveries; at age forty, no less. My finding had to do with my middle name "Allan".

"Allan" means "harmony" in Celtic and "hound" in Anglo-Saxon. A good, fitting name for one, who, like myself, is a Libra, that is, balanced and a bridge-builder.

I didn't know it as a child, but Allan is a name, that matches up with my personality and profession. For I am a hound, always on the move, chasing down my vision, in hot pursuit of harmony and community wherever I go.

Aware and accepting of the discordant notes in life, I, Thomas ALLAN Owen-Towle, am most fully myself as a bridge, a binder, a hound after harmony, a believer that we humans can make a tuneful melody together. That's my goal. That's my name.

What does your name say to you? Seek out your special identity. Then salute it, nourish it, and fulfill it!

I recommend that you take a personal pledge now rather than waiting until you are 40 or retired. I heard the following vow, I think from a popular modern singer:

"So I hearby take my self, my soul doth take my heart, to honor, love and cherish 'till death do us part...what I have joined together, let no one put assunder."

Children, consider taking such a pledge too. It may end up being the most important vow you make.

Love,
Allan

NOBODY HERE BUT US CHICKENS

Dear Chickens,

I was recently reading a book of essays entitled: Nobody Here But Us Chickens by Marvin Mudrick. The title captures what I want to offer in this love-letter.

There are no angels around in life to carry us; only us chickens inhabit this globe. You kids have probably heard the story about four people named: Everybody, Somebody, Anybody and Nobody.

There was an important job to be done, and Everybody was sure Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it. Somebody got angry with that because it was Everybody's job. Everybody thought Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it. It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done.

So it goes in our personal, social, and global lives. But life is more a co-operative than a charity. You cannot let Julia, George or even God carry the human race. You must play your special, significant role in the evolution of the universe.

I also think of the conversation between the priest and the peasant while viewing the latter's fine garden. "You and the Lord," said the priest, "have worked well here." The peasant replied, "Yes, but you should have seen the place when the Lord had it all alone!"

You and I, with the help of the animals and the gods, are the tillers and tenders of this sacred ground called Earth. We are the shapers of the political realities. We are the sharers of time, talents and resources needed to keep our universe on course. Occasionally, we are even the shakers of foundations when things seem out of kilter.

Children, if you want a better society, it will be up to you to create one. If you want more education, it is your job to obtain it. If you want your partnership to deepen, then do it. If you want to be in finer physical, emotional or mental shape, then quit stalling and start working.

There are only us chickens around here.

One of them,
Dad

A RISING ON TOES

Joy happens when a glow from within radiates outward. Joy is a rising on toes. There is no mistaking it. Joy is ecstasy.

Dear Carriers of Joy,

Joy is not quite the same thing as delight or bliss. Is it deeper? Joy is hard to explain, but your mother must have been referring to Jenny the jovial and Erin the exuberant when she wrote the above words. Clearly, once you experience joy, "there's no mistaking it." Some reflections on this spiritual energy called JOY!

First, lots of people are happy and joyous when things are going their way. They bounce because life is bouncing.

The real challenge, children, is to bring and embody joy when those around you may be down or despairing. That's one mark of the truly joyous person.

Second, there needs to be some joy in all we do, even in our deeds of service and obligation. I like the way Mother Theresa put it: "First, I served the destitute out of duty, then out of joy, and finally I have come to realize that my duty and joy are inseparable."

I am talking about sharing joy in the minor matters of life as well as during the major moments. Tucked away in a metropolitan newspaper was this brief comment on the death of an insignificant actor: "He played minor parts like a master." What more need we know of this person?

Our lives, children, are a mosaic of minor parts: washing dishes, mending clothes, writing notes, taking walks, answering doorbells, visiting the sick, breaking bread with friends, talking with loved ones, and performing a hundred commonplace tasks. How we play our roles in this daily drama called life truly determines the size of our joy!

Third, legend says, after death, the Egyptians were confronted by the god Osiris with a quiz that had to be answered honestly. After 42 routine questions concerning how the deceased had lived, Osiris asked the main query which had two parts: "Did you find joy?" and "Did you bring joy?"

Those questions, dear ones, are crucial to answer. For every one of us. Working or playing, dancing, thinking or even mourning. Do we find joy? Do we bring joy?

Joyfully,
Dad

PASS IT ON

David, what your Uncle Asher means is that a parent's love isn't to be paid back; it can only be passed on! --Herbert Tarr

Dear Chris, Jenny, Russ and Erin,

It is strangely true that we parents are happiest and most fulfilled not when you children try to pay us back for anything but when you pass on any gifts we might have sent your way: gifts of time, gifts of thought, gifts of meaning, any gifts which meant something to you, be they material or spiritual ones.

Teach someone else you love the card games our family enjoyed. Tell them the stories and jokes too. Sing with your own children the crazy old tunes you remember from our times together.

Pass on some of the peculiar traditions or habits our family grew around meals, holidays, and trips. Yes, even be willing to drop those customs that you couldn't stand. We won't complain. We tossed out some of those from our parents too.

Few things continue uninterrupted forever. I heard of the little girl who said to her mother one day, "Did you once tell me that the blue vase in the front room had been handed down from one generation of your family to another? Her mother replied, "Yes, dear, why do you ask?" The girl answered, "Because, Mommy, I'm very sorry, but this generation has dropped it!"

Tradition literally means that something has been placed in my hands and I, in turn, am urged to pass it on carefully. Of course, once someone has gifted me with a tradition, I have the right and responsibility to handle it in my own fashion.

I can let it be or modify it. Then, if I don't drop it, I pass it on. Finally, I stand back and permit others to do with it as they choose.

So it is with our lives as parents. We share things with you children, our most precious gifts, and then you handle them in your own ways. Each of you.

I only hope that there have been notions and nudgings in these 52 letters which might be passed on from you to your loved ones along your journey.

I have written you children trying to share pieces of my mind and heart. Perhaps you will be moved to keep this tradition alive.

All my love,
Dad