Thursday, August 16, 2012

The Shoulds and Woulds of a Six Year Old


It was something a friend once observed. She said, “I learned something interesting about the American natives’ languages. In them there is no word that expresses our word - should.” I can’t verify that, but I love the sentiment.

On my computer dictionary I read: “should: a word used to indicate obligation, duty or correctness, typically when criticizing someone’s actions.” For this reason if I ever have occasion for apologizing about my own actions (or inaction) I find it comforting to call myself a native American, even if I cannot claim this genetically.

Changing “I should” to “I would like to” makes sense to me. That’s why I generally do things I should when and if I want to. 

When I was a child growing up I took naturally to this idea because of my mother’s example. Mother died when I was fourteen but she had been the one to set the example for doing things I should with a genuine relish and also to never neglect the purely fun things I relish more naturally. If she suddenly got the notion to go off on foot to the nearest fishing hole to spend the afternoon, she did. I must have known instinctively her need to go alone.  She craved that luxury of being in quiet company with nature and she was able to leave us children because Daddy was always at home since our home was a country gas station.

In those days most mothers were stay-at-home-mothers. They also knew the need to be free of children once in a while so found things like the Sewing Club or Ladies Aid Society or Women’s Christian Temperance Union or Parent-Teachers Association to fill this need. Mother’s choice was her Sewing Club that met on Thursday afternoons and an occasional spontaneous outing to the fishing hole whenever she could squeeze it in. Fish would then end up being our supper’s menu. If she’d been extra lucky there would be a couple of trout along with the usual suckers.

I have to add that we children would go fishing with Grandpa occasionally, so Mother wasn’t denying us the fun. Nor did she always go alone on other outings. In the spring she took us with her into the woods to find wildflowers. There were violets, Dutchmans’ Breeches, Jack-in-the-Pulpits, Mayflowers, and Ladyslippers. We were careful not to pick too many and we always left their roots undisturbed. 

Mother also loved to play the piano and drove us five miles every week to the neighboring town of Lanesboro where our piano teacher lived. She was the wife of the local Norwegian Lutheran minister and her home was a model of polished floors, Oriental rugs, and sheer curtained windows wherein stood the stately grand piano. When my brother had his lesson I’d sit on the porch with Mother and read children’s magazines. Although Mrs. Nestande was strict, piano lesson day was fun. So piano practice provided a kind of “Should” that held hands willingly with my “Would.” 

I couldn’t help thinking of that these past three days when my little great granddaughter, Samantha, visited me. She is just turning six and eager to learn how to play the piano. She’s talented too and ready to have lessons. I hope her parents can find a Mrs. Nestande for her.

I guess the point of this blog is summed up in the philosophy of letting our “Shoulds” be pals with our “Woulds.” In those three days with Samantha I had the blessed help of my daughter, Robin. We both became six year olds again with Sammie and what a joy! Swimming pool, art fair, jig-saw puzzle, beachfront lunch at The Greeter’s Cafe in Laguna, and a child’s choice of at-home movies, (Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs, Sound of Music,) crafty stuff, piano fun, picnic patio breakfasts, a trip to Target to get another Barbie doll to assuage the trauma of Snow White getting her arm chewed off by Dolce, Katie’s little Chihuahua!

Sammie’s visit was like a re-visit to my own childhood. She was full of questions, some of them hard ones, like “Why did Auntie Robin and Uncle Dan get divorced?” Or “Who are you going to vote for for president?” And, of course, “Why? I like the other one!” Don't tell me six year olds aren't often serious.

When there’s a six year old in the house it all rubs off on you. My own six year old is still here after Sammie went home last night. I haven’t done a lick of work all morning but I’ve had breakfast on the patio, read the newspaper, checked my e-mails and Facebook and now am finishing this blog. Time for the “Shoulds to step up and woo the “Woulds.” I’ll pretend it’s like playing house. But first, What shall I have for lunch?







1 comment:

  1. I love this, Grandma! I'd like to also claim Native American values of not having "should" in my own personal dictionary. I guess the word "ought" can join "should" in the rubbish bin, too. :)

    Your writing is so enjoyable, and it's great to hear that Sammie is asking difficult questions, she's really growing up.

    Love you lots. Xo.

    ReplyDelete