Forming memories

When I was little, we used to go to Tuscaloosa, Ala., to visit my family. I have a picture of me, probably about 2 years old, holding my great-grandfather’s hand, walking in the backyard picking pecans.
When I was in college, I was talking with my grandmother about the picture. She stared at me for a second. “Michael,” she said, “you do remember when you used to come here to visit, right?”
I thought about it for a second. “Christmas.”
“And you know pecans are not on the ground at Christmas, right?”
I had never done the math. Turns out, my great-grandfather would collect the pecans and put them in a freezer, and then spread them out just before we got there so that we could go and pick them up.
Yes, you can cue the “awwwws.” A sweet and kind Christmas memory indeed.
Reflecting on this, I realized that we all twist and tweak the truth in order to better serve kids. My parents did it. As a parent, I do it. Some of them – like the pecan story – are done to generate fond childhood memories. Others are done for parental convenience.
For example, when I was little, there were three shows that no child should ever, ever, ever watch: “Barney Miller,” “Hill Street Blues” and “Dallas.” When those shows came on, my parents forbade us from being anywhere near. “You will NOT watch this show, mister!”
I always assumed they were really looking out for mine and my sisters’ delicate moral shapings, and that these shows were REALLY hard core. And while some of the content may have pushed the age-appropriate boundaries on occasion, it’s pretty tame compared to today’s standards.
As my parents confessed to me recently, that was not the driving force behind our banishment. They wanted an hour to themselves, without four kids swarming about screaming, “SHE BROKE MY RUBIK’S CUBE!!!”
I find myself doing similar things, and there are certain shows where my children are simply not allowed in the room.
I tell them they need to scoot on to their own rooms, as it is an adult show. Truth of the matter, it’s not that they’re bawdy or anything. I just want an hour on the couch to watch “Chuck.” Hey, I don’t pretend to be a complex guy.
Of course, I also try and do the fond memory side, too. For example, I have a routine I do every night with my daughter for bedtime. We have a back-and-forth exchange:
HER: Light on?
ME: Check.
HER: Door shut?
ME: Check.
HER: See you when I wake up.
ME: Check.
Yes, she leaves the light on. But it’s her routine. But every morning, when she wakes up, the light is off. “Guess you turned it off, hon” is my reply. She shrugs this off, accepting that she must have done that. Not only does she not realize we turned her light off, she doesn’t realize that leaving it on actually makes our life easier.
Why? Because she sleeps like a load of concrete and we can come in her room and put up laundry, clean out closets, practice trumpets, etc. Nothing wakes her. But she will have the memory (I hope) of a peaceful bedtime routine.
I imagine my children will have a host of memories of these things, things they will realize as adults that I had set up, staged or otherwise packaged in a deceptive manner. Of course, this time of year is one of the ultimate examples of that, and I will keep it in vague, general terms, since a certain 7-year-old has been known to read Daddy’s column.
This will most likely be the last year of that phase. In fact, some in her school have already been planting seeds of doubt. (I hope those little Johnny Buzzkillseeds get coal in their stockings.)
When the seeds sprout, I will explain to her that belief in the spirit of things is what is important. And tell her that her mother and I still believe. And we also believe that ruining it for her little brother will amount to television restriction.
When you think about it, it’s all in the perspective. It doesn’t matter what the reality is. When I see the picture of me holding my great-grandfather’s hand, it doesn’t matter that the pecans didn’t fall out of the tree the day before.
In some ways, it’s kinda cool to learn that. Similarly, it was nice to see that when I was kid, my parents were ACTUAL married people who occasionally wanted a few minutes without the kids around.
Of course, my kids are more than welcome to take their time learning the realities of things. Especially this time of year. Take your time.