80-year-old Pat decided to start the discussion at her table. She wanted to make it personal.
"My dad never congratulated me," Pat whispered pensively, as she prepared her taco at the University of Minnesota's luncheon about getting the most out of mentoring as a woman.
"I was one of the top students in my high school class and received quite a few awards along the way," she added, again so quietly that her five companions at the round table leaned toward her so they could hear what she was saying.
A bit louder, after a sip of Riesling, she remarked with still-hushed puzzlement, "I could never understand why he ignored me. Maybe it was because I was the last of seven kids, five of them girls."
With wispy, gray hair falling straight along each side of her thin face, Cindy, at Pat's right, chuckled tentatively in an apparent attempt to break the tension she saw in Pat's narrow blue eyes and full lips, perfectly outlined in frosty pink. "With five daughters, maybe he was just pooped. After bringing up two daughters myself, I can relate to that. Not easy."
"Yes, he worked hard. And we didn't have much back then," Pat offered more easily, relieved that she was getting a response from her table. "He didn't live to see me teach nursing here at the U and become Director of Nursing at Mayo Clinic. I guess I was just looking for some recognition as a youngster from him, and, in a way, that lack of support drove me to get an education and go on from there."
"You grew up in the 1950's, right?" Barb, a pudgy redhead broke in, as the six delved into the luncheon's special. "Just remember what it was like back then. Women stayed home and did the washing, cooking, cleaning etc. That was the expectation back then. My dad was somewhat like yours. He had no big dreams for me. I don't blame him for being part of the culture back then ..."
Dead silence, and Pat shifted her legs under the table. Finally, Marie, a petite 60-year-old in a blue suit, had a different take about the value of parental mentoring.
"On his deathbed," she said slowly, "my dad told me, 'Of all you kids, you have made your mom and me feel the most pride.' That was, at the most, unexpected and, at the least, somewhat inappropriate --mainly because my two brothers have each accomplished a lot. What I really now want is for our political and civic leaders to be ahead of the game in the way our current culture perceives and treats female achievement – most of all in equal pay."
"Yes, equal pay is important, but one other point: I had to tell my dad to bug off during my junior year," Shelly, a thirty-something in blue-rimmed glasses, slowly revealed. "It was when he emailed my professor and asked him why I got a 'C' in Logic." She chuckled with no embarrassment. "Yes, I was a 'helicopter child!'"
A soft moan rose from the group.
"Oh, I need my dad!" piped up Sara, a new grad from Macalester. "I'll have $45,000 in student debt when I complete my Master's. I need the best first job I can get when I get my degree next year. Dad taught me how to write code. Dad's my career coach. He's been there for me all the way."
With a new sparkle in her blue eyes and a smirk, Pat offered, almost to herself, "What goes around, comes around."
And then Pat added, "I really like this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson:
'Our chief want in life is somebody who will make us do what we can.'"
Two seconds later, she heard the mic at the head table become active – and soon (after initial remarks), "... It's my pleasure to introduce Mika Brzezinski, founder of 'Know Your Value' initiative ..."
Pat's takeaway tip from her story: Value those who helped us choose to do what we could do.
Use “My Latest Legacy Nugget” resources to share your “opening Up” comment with a family member or friend.
See all past issues of “Opening Up.”
Here’s to elderhood and vulnerability!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “Opening Up” newsletter
“Story-guided Discussion for Finding Peace with Vulnerability”
I like Pat’s takeaway tip because it captures, in my mind, what mentoring is all about.
A mentor, for instance, does not necessarily just teach an individual about the importance of reaching a goal or developing a skill or planning for a future event. He or she may not even clearly communicate how that person can achieve it. Just living through (and surviving) an adjustment in one’s circumstances can be enough.
Now that I can look back 60 years, I realize my dad lived through a time in our lives when everything around him was destabilized in rural Wisconsin – high schools were consolidating, local creameries were merging, farmers were cultivating more acres through automation, local retail outlets for farm supplies became shops with regional and national identities etc.
I remember the one day that this all became clear to me – that living through this quite-significant transition in rural America during the 1960s was, at times, stressful. I came home from college for the weekend and discovered that our nearby town of 200 people and the farmers in the area had decided to build two new church buildings (both Lutheran but of different synods).
As a school board member, Dad had worked successfully to consolidate two local high schools, but, as a church council member, he had failed to convince two congregations to work together and build just one sanctuary.
It was the first time I saw him cry. It was in church that Sunday morning.
What I didn’t realize then but know now is that he was setting an example I needed because, it turned out, I struggled with consolidation, too, during my lifetime. For nearly 30 years after the two new church buildings went up in town, I worked in the Wisconsin dairy business where I developed the communication strategy for helping communities adjust to local cheese plants (key employers in some cases) going out of business due to automation.
The words “we can do better together” were never heard in our household, but it was an assumption that was always there.
Sometimes “non-communicative” dads can be effective mentors. “Silence” from a parent doesn’t necessarily need to be a vulnerability we carry into elderhood. Remember actions instead of words.
* When have you seen a parent’s mentoring make a difference in a child’s accomplishment?