I'D LIKE TO BELIEVE EVERYTHING

When I read a story my cousin forwarded on email, I could almost hear the sound of my father's voice muttering, “I’d like to believe everything.” When will we get the message and stop believing everything we read or hear?

Why did the daily news broadcasts and social media become our guide, instead of our parents? How did life come to this? It’s a question everyone from my generation seems to be asking in private conversations. 

The things I learned from my father were limitless. Maybe I wasn’t as young as I was in the picture above, but I was young enough when he taught me how to use a crowbar to open lug nuts to change a tire. I also worked with him planting a tree, replanting shrubs, and even when he installed overhead garage doors. Plus, I learned from him how to change a light switch, and much more. He afforded me an abundance of practical experience and helped me develop intrapersonal skills.

Much of what I gained from my father is in my book, Kitchen Talk. It was by listening to and watching him that I learned. The lesson he gave me about climbing a steep hill is still useful. His technique came from the horses he rode for transportation in the early part of the 20th century. As they made their way up the hills on the local cobblestone roads, the animals would trot a few paces left, then shift a few paces to the right. 

I can picture being at the kitchen table as my father continued the lesson by demonstrating with his hands. By inching up diagonally, moving his fingers back and forth, he showed me how to ease the burden of walking up a hill.

While out for an evening walk, my husband and I stopped in our tracks when we came to a steep incline leading back to our parked car. Without my father's lesson resonating, I may not have made it up the hill on that steamy summer night. As a matter-of-fact, my husband already anticipated the scenario as he calmly uttered, "I can see it now; I’m going to have to get the car and drive it down to get you." 

Au contraire, what appeared as an insurmountable challenge, was doable. All that I needed to do was to think for a minute to recall the teachings of my father. The information, which he taught me long, long ago, was stored in my memory bank. Best of all, I didn’t have to stop and ask Siri.

These days, with all the rhetoric, coupled with a vast amount of unsubstantiated claims that are readily shared, nobody knows what to believe. The impersonal internet has become the repository of stories and jokes. (See my blog post, Even Corny Jokes Are Worth Recording, July 2, 2019 - https://www.sharonmarkcohen.com/blog/2019/5/31/jokes).

Will we ever get back the personal touch and realize there is no substitute for experience? That's doubtful; it’s a new world.

Cobblestone Street we frequently drove/drive on in Hillside, New Jersey - My aunt and uncle lived at 253 Dorer Avenue, Hillside from the 1950s-1980s