Talkin’ to Grandpa

When we’re kids, we often don’t appreciate the wisdom of our parents and consider our grandparents simply wrinkly versions of our parents. When we’re kids we’d be hard pressed to listen to their wisdom. Perhaps, tradition is like talkin’ to Grandpa. But he’s a dialogue partner we don’t appreciate until we’ve grown out of adolescence. It’s no surprise that we treat tradition like a tyrannical parent or wrinkly grandparent. “Tradition is how we got here, but it’s not where we’re going.”

When we begin to grow out of our youth, we begin see ourselves for what we are: shortsighted children. It’s then that we begin to appreciate the words of our parents and grandparents. It’s then that we might relinquish rashness and learn courage by retaining boldness but with admonition from those who have lived on the front line. Perhaps, we’ll even develop enough patient courage to sit down on that rocking chair next to Grandpa on the front porch and listen to his storied wisdom. It’s then that we might put our ears to the floor and listen to the wisdom of tradition, of things past in order to see where it is we are headed. It’s when we sit down and begin to listen, to question, and to speak carefully that we learn to converse with the past. And it’s when we learn to converse with the past that we learn to live in the present while crafting a future. It’s those years after adolescence that we begin to have a Copernican revolution. It’s then that we realize we are not the center and we might even need someone else. It’s then that we begin to realize the words of our parents and grandparents might just turn out to be wisdom. And it’s then that we begin to realize newer isn’t always better.

When we are children and are given a crayon, we scribble. But one day Grandpa comes along and teaches us to write the letters A, B, C. It may be a nuisance at first, but eventually, we learn to write A-Z. It’s exhilarating, so we write it again and again. Some time later, after we feel we’ve mastered A-Z, Mom comes along and tries to teach us C-A-T. She tells us that we can use C-A-T instead of drawing a fluffy animal every time, though fluffy animals are still fun to draw. Writing C-A-T is annoying at first, but we get the hang of it and it becomes fun. We learn D-O-G and S-T-O-P too. Then one day a steel nosed lady teaches us something called “grammar,” a terribly and exhaustibly superfluous practice. But after a while, we begin using it with ease, and the steel nosed lady even tells us that it’s okay to break the rules of grammar with sufficient reason. And her steel nose begins to seem less like steel. We learn to write sentences, paragraphs, essays, and speeches. The steel nose of grammar becomes more fluid, like the strokes of a paintbrush. Then one day we notice a grey hair popped up on our head. It’s then that we walk into a room, and there’s a little person scribbling on a piece of scrap paper. We walk up to the youngster and ask, “Would you like to learn to write your A, B, C’s?”

Our acquaintance with language may be similar to our acquaintance with Grandpa’s storied wisdom. At first, it seems tedious and annoying. We say we don’t need it; we feel that it's little more than rubbish. But after a while we learn its wealth and even pass it on. Perhaps, tradition is like Grandpa, a dialogue partner who teaches us a language. But it’s a language we don’t begin to appreciate until we’ve begun to learn it.