I was struck by a recent story of a unique father-daughter bond. Starting when she was in 4th grade, this single dad read to his daughter for 10 minutes every night until she started college. Wow! They never missed a night. Sometimes this meant that the dad had to drive to play practice to read during rehearsals, sometimes daughter had to come home in the middle of a date to be read to, sometimes Dad had to come home in the middle of a date to read, sometimes the reading took place over the phone.
As a parent, many of my fondest memories are of reading to my children. Starting as infants with board books and lift the flap books, moving to the Boxcar children and Will Hobbs stories, and onto the Harry Potter series. We read Harry Potter traveling through France and Arizona. I love to read out loud, to convey the story's message with my voice. I like sharing the excitement and thrill of stories.
As a sociologist, I tend to think about the rituals we incorporate into our lives and their meanings. This is a very individual ritual, it involved only these two individuals and was uniquely their own. What meaning did it hold for them? It began as a way for the father and daughter to maintain contact as the family structure changed. It reinforces the understanding that children desire some consistency and structure in their lives.
As an adult, I think this also tells us something about goals and rules. Children want to know what to expect and what is expected from them. As I go through staff performance reviews I think about those same needs in adults. We tend to perform better if we know the rules and expectations, but also if we have some goals, something to work towards.
Having rituals in life provides order, but they can also provide excitement and fulfillment. I'm thinking I would like to institute more rituals into my life.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/21/fashion/21GenB.html
A Father-Daughter Bond, Page by Page
Monday, March 22, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
Talk Deeply
Read an interesting article in the NY Times today, "Talk Deeply, Be Happy?"
http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/17/talk-deeply-be-happy/
It describes an interesting psychology experiment in which the daily conversations of individuals were recorded and analyzed. The researchers coded conversations as being substantive (politics, opinions, feelings), small talk (weather, food, TV), or practical (chores or assignments). They concluded that people who engaged more often in substantive conversations were happier than those who had fewer substantive conversations.
Quiz for methods students: does this show causality? why or why not?
The researchers recognize quite rightly that their study did not establish causality. As the comments following the article note, it could be that people who are happier are more likely to engage in substantive conversations. Or, that people are more likely to engage in those conversations with friends and happier people might have more friends, or those with more friends may be happier.
Second methodological question, How do you convince subjects to have microphones attached to their bodies all day recording all their conversations and who codes all those conversations???
Well, the second part is easy, graduate students code those conversations. The first part is probably a reflection of the moeny offered to subjects willing to have this "invasion" of their privacy. We would want to know how the wearing of microphones might affect behavior, too.
Third, sociological question. The field of sociology is based on the idea that humans are social animals who need and want connection to others. What constitutes connection?
Can you have a connection to someone without having a substantive conversation? Is my small talk with the janitor each day when he comes in to empty my trash a connection? We can certainly think of examples in our own lives in which small talk lead to substance. In general, that is true of any relationship. Rarely do we start with the "BIG QUESTIONS." Even doctors tend to make some small talk first before getting down to business. Most relationships are built on a slowly evolving base of trust, starting with small talk and leading up to the bigger issues.
It will be interesting to hear about the follow-up study, whether encouraging people to engage in more substantive conversations over the course of the day increases their feelings of happiness. You could try it yourself right now!
http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/17/talk-deeply-be-happy/
It describes an interesting psychology experiment in which the daily conversations of individuals were recorded and analyzed. The researchers coded conversations as being substantive (politics, opinions, feelings), small talk (weather, food, TV), or practical (chores or assignments). They concluded that people who engaged more often in substantive conversations were happier than those who had fewer substantive conversations.
Quiz for methods students: does this show causality? why or why not?
The researchers recognize quite rightly that their study did not establish causality. As the comments following the article note, it could be that people who are happier are more likely to engage in substantive conversations. Or, that people are more likely to engage in those conversations with friends and happier people might have more friends, or those with more friends may be happier.
Second methodological question, How do you convince subjects to have microphones attached to their bodies all day recording all their conversations and who codes all those conversations???
Well, the second part is easy, graduate students code those conversations. The first part is probably a reflection of the moeny offered to subjects willing to have this "invasion" of their privacy. We would want to know how the wearing of microphones might affect behavior, too.
Third, sociological question. The field of sociology is based on the idea that humans are social animals who need and want connection to others. What constitutes connection?
Can you have a connection to someone without having a substantive conversation? Is my small talk with the janitor each day when he comes in to empty my trash a connection? We can certainly think of examples in our own lives in which small talk lead to substance. In general, that is true of any relationship. Rarely do we start with the "BIG QUESTIONS." Even doctors tend to make some small talk first before getting down to business. Most relationships are built on a slowly evolving base of trust, starting with small talk and leading up to the bigger issues.
It will be interesting to hear about the follow-up study, whether encouraging people to engage in more substantive conversations over the course of the day increases their feelings of happiness. You could try it yourself right now!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Childhood
A few days ago I was thinking about aging and the end of life, today a quote from an essay by Erik Kolbell in today's NYTimes got me thinking about childhood. Here is the quote....
"Most children exercise very little power over the decisions that affect their lives. They don’t decide who their parents are, where their family will live, where they will attend school, when they will reach puberty, who will or will not befriend them. They have limited control over their athletic skills, their looks, their wit, or whether, in the great Serengeti that is their schoolyard, they will be predator or prey. They are as much the subject of their story as its author. "
I wanted to put it next to a quote I've been saving for awhile from a middle school teacher, Susan Graham, from her blog, "A Place at the Table." She wrote, describing middle school,
"It is a wonderful/awful time of transition that is both thrilling and bittersweet. As the innocence of childhood slips away, you can't blame young adolescents for longing for one more year of magic. They may hide behind their blasé masks of indifference, but they still want to be surprised. They still want to believe."
Do we think of childhood as a time of innocence, or as a time fraught with danger and unpredictability? Is a having a lack of control part of what makes childhood magical? I wonder if not having those decisions and responsibilities in childhood allows for the innocence and the magic. We certainly sometimes talk about children who had to "grow up too soon." On the other hand, childhood can be a cruel place in big and little ways. For some children the inability to control their surroundings, or their fate, can be frightening and damaging. For others, perhaps, freeing.
Perhaps at the end of life the same factors come into play. We may lose some of our control over where we live and how we live. We could allow that to let the magic back in, giving up those responsibilities may free us to be surprised. To believe.
"Most children exercise very little power over the decisions that affect their lives. They don’t decide who their parents are, where their family will live, where they will attend school, when they will reach puberty, who will or will not befriend them. They have limited control over their athletic skills, their looks, their wit, or whether, in the great Serengeti that is their schoolyard, they will be predator or prey. They are as much the subject of their story as its author. "
I wanted to put it next to a quote I've been saving for awhile from a middle school teacher, Susan Graham, from her blog, "A Place at the Table." She wrote, describing middle school,
"It is a wonderful/awful time of transition that is both thrilling and bittersweet. As the innocence of childhood slips away, you can't blame young adolescents for longing for one more year of magic. They may hide behind their blasé masks of indifference, but they still want to be surprised. They still want to believe."
Do we think of childhood as a time of innocence, or as a time fraught with danger and unpredictability? Is a having a lack of control part of what makes childhood magical? I wonder if not having those decisions and responsibilities in childhood allows for the innocence and the magic. We certainly sometimes talk about children who had to "grow up too soon." On the other hand, childhood can be a cruel place in big and little ways. For some children the inability to control their surroundings, or their fate, can be frightening and damaging. For others, perhaps, freeing.
Perhaps at the end of life the same factors come into play. We may lose some of our control over where we live and how we live. We could allow that to let the magic back in, giving up those responsibilities may free us to be surprised. To believe.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Aging
I read an interesting commentary the other day about aging. The author's argument was that we can't really understand old age if we aren't old. That isn't exactly what he said, but that is my impression. Brown argues that as we age we look at age differently. I certainly understand that idea. When I was a kid at summer camp I thought the camp counselors, college students, were so old, wise, and responsible. When I became a camp counselor myself I couldn't believe that people were trusting us to care for their kids all week!
Now in my 50s I feel that this isn't a very old age at all. I have a lot of life ahead of me. Brown, in his article, points out that people in their 80s and 90s feel much the same way. They aren't thinking about the end of life on a daily basis, they are just living. In sociology and gerontology we talk about the importance of socialization and learning age appropriate roles from the generations ahead of us. We learn how to be parents partly by observing our parents--their triumphs and mistakes. Similarly, we learn how to be "old" by watching those who are older than us. If we are lucky (in my opinion) we have role models of engaged, active, happy people who can serve as models.
Still, we often bring our preconceived notions to our interactions with older people. Brown talks about meeting an older woman who has just lost her husband. Assuming that she must be grief stricken, he makes a sympathetic comment. He is surprised when she replies that she is in "Heaven," she has a freedom and lightness that she lacked when he was alive. I'm impressed with her ability to be so honest. How many spouses might feel that mixture of release and grief at the death of their partner? Is Brown's assumption one about age or about marriage? I can remember my husband's grandmother's sense of freedom when her husband passed away. She felt she could travel, something he never wanted to do. She had not been limited so much by her age as by her situation.
Here's the link....
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/02/health/02case.html
Now in my 50s I feel that this isn't a very old age at all. I have a lot of life ahead of me. Brown, in his article, points out that people in their 80s and 90s feel much the same way. They aren't thinking about the end of life on a daily basis, they are just living. In sociology and gerontology we talk about the importance of socialization and learning age appropriate roles from the generations ahead of us. We learn how to be parents partly by observing our parents--their triumphs and mistakes. Similarly, we learn how to be "old" by watching those who are older than us. If we are lucky (in my opinion) we have role models of engaged, active, happy people who can serve as models.
Still, we often bring our preconceived notions to our interactions with older people. Brown talks about meeting an older woman who has just lost her husband. Assuming that she must be grief stricken, he makes a sympathetic comment. He is surprised when she replies that she is in "Heaven," she has a freedom and lightness that she lacked when he was alive. I'm impressed with her ability to be so honest. How many spouses might feel that mixture of release and grief at the death of their partner? Is Brown's assumption one about age or about marriage? I can remember my husband's grandmother's sense of freedom when her husband passed away. She felt she could travel, something he never wanted to do. She had not been limited so much by her age as by her situation.
Here's the link....
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/02/health/02case.html
Monday, March 1, 2010
Skiing
I learned to ski when I was about 10 I guess. My dad was a skier and as each of us reached a certain age (probably the age at which the hand me down boots fit) he would take us out for a trial run. He took me one evening to The Pines, a local ski area in Northern Indiana. I was not a big fan by the end of the lesson. I was cold, the rope tow was painful, and I fell down a lot. Later that year, or perhaps the next, we built a small snow mound in our backyard. I'm not sure why, maybe for sledding. It was maybe 3-4 feet high and we cut some steps into the back. I decided to learn how to ski on that mound. I went out one day and side stepped up the back, turned around and slid down, over and over again. Maybe I was older, maybe I was stronger, maybe it was the lack of a rope tow, but I started to feel more comfortable on skis. Next time we went to The Pines, I was hooked.
Over the years I skied only sporadically. We went to the Pines only a few times a year, if that. Instead we would venture to Lower Michigan for a day trip to one of the ski areas, usually Swiss Valley. My dad, oldest sister and younger brother were the usual crowd. I became more and more adept. Once a year we would take a weekend trip further up in Michigan, or a few times, to the UP. I was never an expert skier at that age, just good enough to manage most of the hills in the Midwest.
When I got married I stopped skiing. My husband tried it once, but that was enough for him. We lived in areas where convenient skiing did not exist. So, I went about 20 years without putting skis on. I started once again when my sons showed some interest. We live near a small ski area, sort of like The Pines I grew up with. Over the last several years I've gradually regained my confidence as a skier, although I haven't ventured off the small hills of Central NY.
I find skiing to be so relaxing. There is a natural rhythm and mindlessness that accompanies a trip down the hill. You are focused only on the area right ahead of you, on your body, and on the sound of snowboarders creeping up behind you. On a quiet day, when the slopes are pretty empty, you can just let your mind go blank. I've worried a few times that I would fall asleep on the chairlift ride back to the top. The gentle swaying of the chair, the fresh air, the warmth of a parka all make for a drowsy skier. I like riding up alone, and on quiet days that is easy to do. Once at the top, I favor the wide cross-hill turns and slow descent. I'm in no hurry. I savor the feel of the wind on my cheeks and the rhythmic turn and turn as I make my way down. If I could spend my whole life skiing, I'm convinced, I could solve all of my problems.
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