Twenty-one years ago this fall I had a conversation with a Britton- Macon parent that is stuck in my memory. Our discussion began when the bell rang at the beginning of second hour and ended when it rang again at the start of third. We stood in the hallway and just talked. Brenda was the mother of three. She was active in school affairs but this conversation was not about her children. It was about our parents, and it focused on our fathers.
Brenda’s father was an outspoken member of the school community who had an opinion about everything. He was a life long resident who knew the history of the town and the school. He was supportive of his family and his community but he let it be known when he didn’t agree with you. His disagreements with me were never personal. I could work with men like him. Straight shooters with consistent values. I had trouble with those who smiled to your face but worked in a subversive manner when your back was turned.
On this day, there was no controversy. Brenda and I just talked. What started as a simple conversation soon turned to parenthood and our two fathers. She told stories about her dad and I shared stories about mine. They were simple observations of two modest men who valued their families above everything else. They cared about their children and grandchildren. They wanted the best for them.
At one point I offered this observation. “I am fifty years old and my dad still worries about me.” She agreed that her father had similar anxious moments regarding his four daughters.
We discussed their simple concerns. I told her that one of my dad’s consistent inquiries was about food. When I traveled he often asked, “Where did you eat?” If he knew where, the question changed to, “What did you have for dinner?” or “How was the food?”
If I shared a controversy, or a pending decision with him, he was prone to say, “If I were you I’d …”
The primary point of my conversation with Brenda that day was “once a parent, always a parent”. Parents look out for and worry about their children no matter how old they become. Even 50. Parents always have an opinion. Always worry. Always care. Always have your best interest at heart, even if your path and theirs take separate directions.
Now that my own children are 40 and beyond, nothing has really changed. I worried and did my best to care for them when they were young. I still worry, and care, but they all fend for themselves and make me proud each day. It’s not a “ring your hands” or a “cross your fingers” worry. It’s more of a “I only want the best for you because I love you” concern. And I suppose that I have subconsciously developed my own version of “If I were you I’d…”
They have chosen different paths and travel with partners, lucky for me, that I love. Brenda’s children are grown now too. I expect that she feels the same way that I do. I also expect that her children and mine will share stories of their parents with others just as Brenda and I did many years ago. Being wise beyond their years, they probably already do.