My father created a small brochure to distribute to his four grandchildren in 2007. The title of the brochure (or tome, if a brochure can be a tome) is “The Wisdom of the Grampus.” He made extra copies, so his grandchildren’s parents and grandmother (aka Grammus) got copies, too.
It has a calendar format, with nuggets of wisdom assigned to days. Also checkboxes: three for each nugget, so you can check off when you have taken the wisdom. Classic Dear Daddy, a world-class documenter.
I keep the TWotG in the side pocket of my suitcase. I take it out before trips to brush up on my wisdom. A recent review:
This ritual checking makes me smile, groan, or think. Usually all three.
In my growing-up family, it was my father who was the sage. He had all the stories. He was the dispenser of wisdom: see above. We rarely heard from my mother about her childhood. She was too busy keeping us alive. Plus, she lost credibility with me and DS early because insisted that she didn’t fight with her sister. That claim seemed impossible.
As I became a young adult and then a not-young adult, matrilineal anecdotes surfaced. Learning to drive on New York’s Eastside Highway. Terrifying. Mom’s mom’s wisdom around that terrifying feat: “millions of morons do it, you can do it too.” I take this wisdom to all of my normal-person roles in my life, the most important one being motherhood.
Now that I think about it, much of mom’s wisdom comes from her mother, my Grandma Lil. For her first job, working in the Social Security office, feisty Lil’s advice to little Barbara: “Firm handshake, deep voice.”
And another Lil-ism: “Don’t peak too early.” I can’t remember the context. But the context doesn’t matter. This is general-purpose advice.
Lil, were she alive, would be GREAT, GREAT Grandma Lil. Which would be entirely appropriate.
I guess this blog is my way of sharing my wisdom, such as it is. You won’t find any calendars or checkboxes here, though. I do like to think that I have a figurative firm handshake and deep voice. And I am positive that I have not peaked too early!
All so true!!! It was the curvy Bronx River Parkway headed into the sun that was so terrifying as my mother, Grandma Lil, taught me how to drive. Your quote is correct.
Love you, Grammus!
Nice piece, LK. The checkboxes next to the nuggets are a good idea fwiw. When a person is forced to take an action along with reading, like checking a box, it makes what they read more salient. So it will be more likely to be remembered. The Grampus was onto something.
Thank you, DBE.
“The Grampus was onto something”: No doubt. Much has been said about him, some of it here. I have shared selectively—prudently—since his death, as he requested.
I agree with you that checkboxes are a useful “cognitive artifact” (Don Norman). A perfect nudge for cherished grandchildren.
But if Grampus/DD wanted to “force” an action, the instrument would have been blunt! https://laurakornish.com/2018/04/anniversary-of-motherhood/
DS will have my back on this.
I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet him.
xo
Love this post! “millions of morons do it, you can do it too.” – my new mantra!
Oh, yes, that is very useful!
Love you! xo LK