My first wife and I moved from Boston to New York City in the summer of 1967. We lived in a small apartment on the Upper East Side along with our son David, just 7 months old at the time. David soon learned that he could climb out of his crib, so we resorted to tying him into the crib, using some kind of harness. Sometimes in the morning, we’d discover David hanging at the side of the crib, fast asleep. We’re lucky he didn’t get strangled. Or that no one reported us to a child protective agency.
We moved to Brunswick a year later. When David was about 3 years old, we’d take him to Bowdoin ice hockey games, and he’d be wearing his bright orange jumpsuit. He loved to explore, so we’d let him walk all around the arena by himself. We weren’t worried because we could see the little figure clad in bright orange, bobbing along, maneuvering through the crowded arena.
One time David decided he wanted to scale the corner cupboard, the one with an oil lamp on top. Small problem. The cupboard and the lamp fell over right on top of him. Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt. Another time, he fell while running down a hill, which caused his arm to bend backwards at the elbow. The doctor fixed the problem.
I recall my dad saying, after one of his annual Christmas visits, “Well, David’s certainly a handful.” And, in truth, he was — always independent, always focused, always determined to chart his own course.
Somehow, he survived — and more. He excelled at Princeton, majoring in electrical engineering and computer science and serving as captain of the water polo team. Then he had a successful career at Microsoft before moving to Amazon 5 years ago.
While I’m very proud of David, I take no credit for his success or for that of my other son, Jon, who faced challenges from birth thanks to the Rh factor. Jon had to have several blood transfusions at birth but experienced only a slight hearing loss as a result. He earned his bachelor’s degree at Bowdoin, his Ph.D. at the University of Washington and did postgraduate work at Stanford. Today he’s a top executive at ECRI, a global leader in patient safety and health care technology.
I was a devoted parent, coaching them in several sports and being a faithful fan, right through their college years. But I never bugged them about doing their homework, never provided gratuitous advice, never urged them to go in this or that direction. I did, however, offer financial incentives for good grades, a costly move, as it turned out.
I was also blessed with two smart, quirky, independent parents. They were always there for me and my two siblings, but they never tried to manage our lives. Because we always played lots of family games, they taught us the importance of being a good sport, win or lose. And they both stayed active and engaged throughout their long lives. (My dad died at age 97, and my mother died a month before her 90th birthday.)
As I reflect upon my parenting years and observe other parents — back then and today — I’ve come to a few conclusions:
•Nature beats nurture. Most kids are just born the way they are.
•A parent’s role is to be there for their kids, always loving and supportive, but never trying to manage their lives. (As Tina always told her two sons, “You’re writing your own book.”).
•If a kid has a bad home life or parents who aren’t there for them, it’s critical for them to find an adult outside the home to serve as a mentor, be it a coach or teacher or whomever. To that end, adults who have close contact with children in any way can have a huge impact on them, more than they know.
•Kids learn by example, not by fiat.
•Parents must give their kids plenty of opportunities to fail and thereby learn from their mistakes. Put another way, do not be a helicopter parent.
Happily, I keep up with my two accomplished sons by playing Wordle, Quordle and Octordle along with them every day. I post my scores around 6: 30 a.m. and they post theirs a few hours later as they live on the west coast. It’ a challenge, but I can still hold my own. I enjoy this daily contact, and they’re reassured that their dad isn’t quite ready for the loony bin just yet. A win for all.
(In a future column, I’ll address what seems to be a troubling issue on college campuses: the heavy use of medications. Just as young people don’t need helicopter parents, they shouldn’t become too reliant on artificial means to cope with stress and anxiety.)
David Treadwell, a Brunswick writer, welcomes commentary and suggestions for future “Just a Little” columns. dtreadw575@aol.com
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