“I HAD NO IDEA?” OK BOOMER

At some point ‘no idea’ or ‘I have no idea’ is the wrong answer.

You can use it as an excuse up to a point, up to a certain age, and it isn’t seventy.

Too often I feel like I should have an answer to the hard questions, something better than raising the white flag of surrender.

Still, it’s a better answer than, “Don’t ask me.”

One answer shows a certain vacuousness, the other is evasive.

Not answering a question is better than an admission of ignorance, better than a tease of ‘I’m not telling.’

It’s important to know what’s what.

As a young father of two I got advice from everywhere, but the best I ever got was a simple observation.

“Answer every question your kids ask. If you don’t someone else will, or they’ll make up their own answers.”

Every dad is a fountain of knowledge to their kids.

Imagine answering your kid’s question with, “I have no idea.”

Unless it’s middle school math. You get a pass on that, Boomer.

Still, take advantage of the available resources, like your husband or wife.

“What’s the difference between the speed of light and the speed of sound?”

Kids and their questions, right? You can’t say you don’t know, so then what?

“Let’s ask mom/dad. They know everything.”

Whew, now you’re off the hook? Nope.

Now you have a chance to find a good answer in case your wife/husband falters.

What’s the right answer? Come on.

 

“You’d Forget Your Head If It Wasn’t Stapled On”

This is Saint Denis.

He is one of many who were executed for the wrong answer, the wrong belief, the wrong friends.

Instead of doing the usual thing after the axe came down, he had other plans.

The Getty gives a good account:

 

Saint Denis, the first bishop of Paris, was beheaded in that city in the year 250. According to legend, angels accompanied him as he carried his own head from the place of execution to his chosen burial site, where later the church of Saint Denis was built just outside of Paris.

 

Go on and explain this to a four year old, Boomer.

One of things I do when I get a grandkid for a few hours is set up a series of stations.

They include a mountain lion cave, a chetah den, a lego building space, a huge paper tablet with colored pencils for drawing, a music stop with my guitar and a rhythm section basket of shakers, and my Janson’s History of Art tome I’ve had since the seventies.

 

 

In the 1st edition, published in 1962, he spoke to that perennial reader he gently called “the troubled layman.”

His opening paragraph revealed his sympathy: “Why is this supposed to be art?” he quoted rhetorically.

“How often have we heard this question asked–or asked it ourselves, perhaps–in front of one of the strange, disquieting works that we are likely to find nowadays in the museum or art exhibition?”

 

The kid and I thumb through pages of religious works along with everything else.

The question came up after looking at works from the Middle Ages showing the crucifixion:

“What are they doing?”

 

My Learned Answer To No Idea

This is my big moment, the transfer of status from college dropout to college graduate.

It was a big deal for me after starting freshman year in 1973.

I graduated while working a full-time job, being married with kids, and owning a home in the suburbs.

The #12 Tri-Met bus was my jam in a one car household.

After a few years riding buses and subways in New York and Philadelphia I had a different opinion of public transportation.

It was more fun than burden with the regular riders. I had a crew of cut-ups I looked forward to each afternoon.

We had a lively exchange of ideas, but nothing compared to my four year old grandkid.

 

Kid: What are they doing?

Me: (wondering what their parents have said, wondering if this is the right time to explain the execution methods of the time.)

Kid: What are they doing, Granddad?

Me: (Reflecting on the benefits of a college education) It’s a painting someone got paid to paint. Lots of artist paint pictures like this and get money.

Kid: They do?

Me: Let’s draw a picture and when we finish we’ll get ice cream. Do you like art?

Kid: I like ice cream.

Me: First art, then ice cream.

Kid: Okay.

 

Did I miss a teaching moment? Maybe, but their parents won’t.

However they answer their kid’s questions is fine with me.

As an elder, a family elder, I’m steeped in answering questions easy and difficult, leaving the important ones for the adults with the most influence.

I know my place, my role, and I play it like a champ.

Here’s what I hope to achieve: give the kid room to roam, to stretch their brain and build their skills.

As a granddad I’m not pressing them to hurry and finish anything, but I take mental notes on how much time they spend at each station.

Motor skills with legos? Check.

Color awareness in art? Check.

Animal identity: Check.

Why do I bother to go to such extremes when I could just as easily turn on the TV, park them in front of it, and scroll my phone?

 Because I’m a qualified instructor.

My main qualification:

 

 

Thank you, Miss Spooner.

I won’t let you down.