Family Genes.

     I've missed the practice of taking stock at the end of a day and also the looking forward to, and musing about, what I might include in the evening news about our learning adventures.  It's been almost a month since I've written and two weeks today since my dad passed away.  Before his death we travelled to be together with the family and then returned to Hamilton, briefly, to await the call that Dad had gone home.  Lots of lifelearning, to be sure, but keeping a record of the arithmetic lessons and literary accomplishments seemed inconsequential in the shadow of the end of a life.   

     Yet, Dad's life echoes in our pursuit of true understanding that we are fumbling through during this season.  He, being born in the 30s, finished his formal education at the end of Gr. 8 but the bookshelves that covered every wall of our childhood home, and the memories of many  an armchair debate about politics, science, agriculture and theology attest that his education had very little to do with whatever his teachers' curriculum dictated during those few years he spent behind a pupil's desk.  And he revered his grandmother who he claimed was the smartest woman he ever knew even though she was denied the right to go to school at all, being born illegitimately in the 1870s.   He loved to tell the story about how a recent graduate of agricultural college tried to teach her something about cross pollination between bean varieties and her curt reply was "It very well may say that in your textbook, but in the garden, it's different."  Years later, my dad came across an article in an agricultural magazine about a "new" finding which confirmed what my great-grandmother already knew by her own observation.  Dad was always a champion of anything that questioned conventional wisdom and knowledge.  Must be a genetic thing.

     I am grateful for the Olympics which taught my kids all sorts of lessons while I lacked the emotional energy to pursue any kind of intentional brain food.  Stories of courage, triumph, sacrifice, heartbreak, success and grace through failure were reported all day long on CBC.  I remember spending a lot of time talking about that in class when I was in school.   Plus, we figured out how to keep score in a curling game which none of us understood even while we watched and tried to cheer at the appropriate times.  And, good for me, I taped a world map to the mantel so we could locate the top 10 medal winning countries each day.   And when Sochi went to bed at 3 pm, our time, (insert lesson about timezones) we even read the rest of Romeo and Juliet with beers (ginger ale) to help with understanding the difficult language.  And of course, the kids' more than appropriate response was:  "What a bunch of dumb butts, everybody dying all over the place just because two people got married after one day!"  That's how I knew they understood the story perfectly.

     This week we're back to our regular routine...of not having a routine, and my goodness, is it OK that I love it so much?? Must mean we're not trying hard enough if we're not all frazzled and frantic, right?  We're reading lots of chapters of really great books (Elijah of Buxton and Ruby Holler at the moment) making Richard Scarry gingerbread pigs, unit price comparing at the grocery store,  learning how to ferment our own Root Beer (Isaac watched a video but we have yet to find the ingredients.), carving soap,sewing wonderful marvelous pigs, tracing letters, copying books  and all sorts of good stuff.   And of course, many lessons, some not yet worthy of a passing grade, in giving space to the ill-tempered screaming ones and giving the sly tormentors a wide berth.  Although, they all seem to be able to give words to the appropriate responses in these situations when they themselves are not involved in the current fray.  Much good may it do them tomorrow.

    It's good to be back in the swing at home.  It was good to reflect on the 83 years of history of a Dad , Opa, pig-farmer, tuba player, lada collector, refugee sponsor, pot-stirrer.  As my 82 year old Dad "liked" a quote by Mark Twain, on Facebook, that said when we find ourselves on the side of the majority, it's time to pause and reflect, so shall we carry on the family tradition of questioning everything.  Except things like why we have to go to sleep at bedtime.  That crap you just do if you know what's good for you.