Parenting Skills: Eyes of the Tiger

Ross and Margie did not consider themselves expert parents. They were quick to say, "We didn't do much, we were lucky and had good kids to start with." I asked Mom about it this morning (July 3, 2011) and she confirmed the notion that her kids were much better people than she and Ross. So what was it about their "parent styles" that created an environment in which we kids could grow?

They did not lecture us. Rather, they led by example. They took us to church, they did not just send us to meetings. They gave us choices, such as, "Are you fasting today?"

When I was about seventeen I had a bit of an attitude. Dad was reading the paper, Mom was doing the dishes. I announced that I had decided not to go on a mission. There was no movement whatsoever. Dad kept reading the paper, Mom continued with the dishes. Mom said, "That's fine, if that is what you want to do. We wouldn't want you to go on a mission if you did not want to. You are old enough to make those kinds of decisions."

Rats! I got no response from them. No drama, no weeping and wailing, not even a small gnashing of teeth. I spent a few days thinking about it, and then decided what I wanted to do.

Dad was reading the paper, Mom was washing the dishes. "I've decided that I am going to go on a mission. "That's fine, if that is what you want to do. We will support you in whatever decision you make. You are old enough to make this kind of decision." There was no break in the steady reading of the paper, and the cleaning of the dishes continued. There was no question in their confidence in my decision-making ability.

One of our pet names for Dad was "Papa sahn," which we adapted from the fact that he had served in Japan after the war. It was a term of respect, yet a term of endearment. We sometimes referred to Mom as "Mama sahn," but not very often.

Being a former school teacher, Dad was big on speaking language correctly. We would often discuss adventures in grammar heard during monthly testimony meetings. Dad would say, "Don't say, I haven't went to town." Once he asked one of the ward members why he didn't go to the temple with them. The man said, "If I'd a know'd I coulda go'd, I woulda rode." It was one of Dad's favorite stories. Another time he was in school when the teacher was having the kids conjugate verbs. The first verb was "Ride." One of the students said, "Ride, rode, ridden." The next student was one of Dad's friends. The verb was "Dive." The kid said, "Dive, dove, diven!"

Earlier in my teen years there was much talk in public schools about sex education. I mentioned to Mom once that she had never sat me down and told me the "facts of life." She just smiled and said, "All you need to know is that people are much better looking with their clothes on than they are with them off." The older I get, the more that wisdom is confirmed.

Dad did not speak negatively of my friends, though some were of questionable reputation. One day out by the garage he asked a very straightforward question, catching me off guard. My startled look and lack of what to say convicted me. Dad studied me and then said, "I'm not going to say anything, I just want you to know that I know." He then walked back into the garage. I would have felt better if he had given me a lick. Disappointing him was torture. I quit running with that crowd thanks to some very effecting parenting.

Dad often said to the grandkids, "How you doing, Tiger." When the boys went on their missions, each was told by Dad, "Go get 'em, Tiger." Shortly before Dad's passing I was with him in the hospital. He was connected to a host of tubes and monitors and was tired of being in bed. I commented that he was still The Tiger. He chuckled and said, "I'm as weak as a pussycat." I reminded him that he was, and always would be The Tiger. Go get 'em, Tigers! You were taught by the best.