A Letter to My Father, age 91

So, though the post was begun on the propitious date of 11/11/11 (couldn't resist making a beginning!) the following letter was actually written on Saturday September 7, 2013. Time, indeed, does fly!

 Dear Daddy,

 Yesterday Jasmine and Julia walked the dog all the way to my work so we could all walk home together. The sky was somewhat overcast so it was quite comfortable being outdoors of an evening. On the walk Jasmine wondered aloud about reforming education. Julia and I joined in with our bits. 

Eventually we came around to how we home-schooled and that brought us to how you raised me. You always demonstrated that you weren't finished learning. It is significant that a child somehow knows that finishing school is not the end of learning. That is not to say that we're 'students in the school of hard knocks', as is everyone. It is more to the point that curiosity is not snuffed out. So you kept reading and organizing the articles and snippets of thought into your notebooks. Anyway, for your children it was background that we didn't particularly notice or pay attention to but it was there -- like wallpaper -- adding color and pattern and texture to our minds.

 And you read aloud to us. You took us to concerts. You took us out for ice-cream after the cultural events to draw out our thoughts. You showed us that we had thoughts which you respected. No doubt, you shared your thoughts as well. You helped us, or gave us opportunity and coaching to articulate these thoughts. You helped us play with our creativity with games such as "squiggles." Our "home evening" lessons featured your showing us how to "frame" our vision, our thoughts. You talked about "the pentagonal man" -- lessons that have stayed with us to share with our own families and to add dimension to our lives. Between you and Uncle Wes, we got a good grasp of the classics -- through children's versions of "The Canterbury Tales", "The Iliad", "The Odyssey" and recordings of "Alice in Wonderland" and other tales. You shared a love of poetry, classical music, and of other cultures.

 Recently I watched a film about a pediatric neurosurgeon named Ben Carson, based on his autobiography titled "Gifted Hands". He was the second of two children born to a teenage mother who soon learned that her husband already had a wife and children. A divorce was necessary and she was left to support her two sons by working as a domestic, having only a third-grade education herself.

 She noticed that her employers spent less time watching television and more time reading books. So she limited her sons to two shows a week and required them to read two books a week from the library and submit written reports to her. Her sons never guessed that she herself could not read, as she marked up their reports with red ink. Ben had done very poorly in school and was convinced he was "stupid". She assured him he was very smart. Eventually his marks improved, so much so that he graduated from grammar school with top marks. One teacher used this as an opportunity to berate his more privileged white classmates. Following this public humiliation of her son, Ben's mother moved her household and enrolled her sons in an all-black school. What she did not anticipate was that now Ben's desire was to "fit in" socially and he soon lost interest in his studies. However, "the damage" was done -- he could not take out of himself all he had previously worked so hard to acquire and this set him apart.

Back to me, Jasmine, and Julia on our walk -- talking about education and upbringing now. I postulated that the education one receives at home can have the effect of separating one from one's peers. In a way, this can serve as a protection of sorts. A protection from what I can't exactly say, but there you are -- different. It isn't until much later that you come to realize it is "different" in a good way.

I concluded, after all this, that I am not going to worry about my children or grandchildren or great grandchildren because I'll know they are in good hands. Somewhere along the way someone began a process of pursuing a classical education as a lifelong avocation, and this has passed into a personal legacy and a family culture. It is my hope that this legacy will remain in good hands and be put to good use, responsibly and honorably. I think it will, so long as there is a trust in Jesus Christ and God, with full accountability to them and gratitude and glory given accordingly. With much love and thanks to you, your daughter.