I always wondered if familial education skips a generation. Always thought I learned better from my grandmother than my mother. Although my younger sister was closer to my mother. Anyway, my middle daughter is autistic and it is difficult for us to relate. This week there are carpets of yellow dandelions everywhere and hubby and I reminisced about making wine. We don't drink anymore but I bought some dandelion jelly at the farmer's market last year and thought it might be fun to try. Daughter actually started to perk up at the thought. But then realizing we are on a keto diet and could not have anything one might spread even sugar free jelly on, we both became deflated. She remembered dandelion root tea from when she was in Vermont but that is a different product. I looked up how to make the jelly on , your mother and mine, youtube and thought aloud, How about dandelion finger jello. I have large containers of Knox gelatin somewhere. Of course hubby just mowed the lawn here but I am pretty sure we have an acre or two at the farm to harvest if daughter number three doesn't mow today. And of course, hope and dandelions spring eternal. My grandmother taught me to cook--"you take half an eggshell of water. Or you do it until it feels right." Which is why I have difficulties giving recipes. But daughter went out and picked some flowers and pulled out the petals. They tasted good. If I can keep her interested, this might be fun.
I'm teaching the little 'uns to crochet and embroider. I had no luck with teaching my daughter because, y'know, " MOM! That's old lady stuff!" The Littles are fascinated, though, because "Meemaw knows the greatest stuff!" It does skip a generation, doesn't it?
I think the key for parents is to reach them while they are still young. You'll have an easier time interesting your eight-year-old in things that you want them to learn than you will your thirteen-year-old. The teens are all about separating from their parents and becoming their own person, and the twenties and thirties are about making their own way in the world. Parents who live near their children in their forties and older may again enjoy a rewarding relationship unless too many bridges were burned along the way.
So if it skips a generation, what about the every-other-ones to whom this stuff does not get passed down? Do they miss out, or are the children of those here who reject your lessons have things that they pass on to their grand kids? Or do those every-other-generations just miss out and start from scratch?
i barely knew any of my grandparents, and everything I learned growing up was either from my mom or my dad, and I enjoyed spending time with both of them and learning. My dad was a kind and gentle person, and he worked for the electrical company as a lineman. In those days, I was allowed to go along with my dad to work, in the summer when I was out of school. I loved going along with him on “trouble calls” to get the electricity working again. I actually learned to drive in the big 1-ton line truck with all sorts of gears. My dad would point out trees and explain the different types of tree, and other small plants, like Kinnikinnick (bear berry), Indian Paintbrush, service berry, mullein, and many other plants. When I was old enough, he took me along when he went deer hunting in the fall. I learned to shoot, and would hunt for grouse while he hunted for deer. When I went with my mom, I learned different things, like gardening, and looking at real estate, and helped her getting rental ready for rent. I learned to answer phone calls about rentals, and often Rhode across town on my pony to show a rental, or to collect the rent for my mom. After I grew up and had children, I tried to teach them a lot of the things that i learned from my parents. Happily, my children were able to spend time with all of their grandparents, and they also learned a lot from the grandparents.
I can remember that my dad was surprised once because he thought I was going out with my friends on Saturday nights, and sometimes that's what I had intended to do, but my grandmother lived at the end of the road, where it met the highway, so I would stop by to see her and often end up playing dominos until well after dark. She was a tough domino player. In fact, whatever the game, she wouldn't let me win at whatever age I was.