'The Great Babysitter'

  “Children. Ah, kids! They are just smaller versions of us, younno, but I ain’t so crazy about me!”    Poopdeck Pappy - (Popeye the Sailor’s father.)

  Patti and I were ‘baby boomers’, and being born and raised in the 50s and early 60’; never understood the entire concept and consequences of parenting. During those years children were seen as an unavoidable burden and consequence of the institution of marriage.  Our parents in those days thought it was enough to keep children, (and pets), clean, well fed, and quiet in another room.  Children were to be ‘seen and not heard’. The responsibility of parenting and main caregiver fell to the wife and mother who ideally in those years, spent her days making cookies, cleaning the house, and doing the laundry. Husbands, on the other hand, (according to socially acceptable norms at the time), managed their careers, arrived home on time, and expected a hot wholesome dinner ready when they got there.

  At least, that was the plan. Nearly every family discovered this universally accepted ‘societal norm’ was both impractical and unrealistic in the real world. Children still needed attention; parents still needed time together, and there just weren’t enough hours in a busy day. That is, until the arrival of the ‘Great Babysitter’.

  In the late 50’s there arose the miracle of the modern world. A revolutionary state-of-the-art electronic fusion of sound, moving pictures with free entertainment for every American home- the Television! With the flick of a switch, it was instantly possible to get news from around the world, sporting events, variety shows featuring hit music, game shows, and weekly installments of comedy, action, and drama. More importantly to parents, ‘The Great Babysitter’ afforded a few hours of quiet in a busy household.

  Watching television soon became a major activity of children of our generation and much of our childhood was spent awash in the constant blue-white glow of the ‘Great Babysitter’. In time, the TV grew from a pleasant diversion to a nationwide addiction. Research at the time suggested that the average American child spent 3-4 hours daily in front of the TV. By the time of high school graduation, our kids have viewed 8,000 murders, 200,000 violent acts, and have spent more time watching television than in the classroom.

  Patti and I didn’t follow all the surveys and psychiatric research, but noticed that people around us seemed to care less for the folks living next door, but were deeply concerned about who shot ‘J.R.’, or the next episode of ‘Charlie’s Angels’.

  When Patti and I married we decided if we were going to be good parents there was to be no TV. We were young and therefore idiotic and believed we could change the world.  In those early years we kept our promise even though when friends or family would visit and notice we had no TV, felt sorry for us and offer to give us one of theirs. We would politely refuse, but came to understand we needed something to fill the vacuum. Thankfully, Patti came up with a terrific idea.

   Reading. It sounded simple enough. The idea was that we would actually read all the classic literature we were supposed to have read in school but weaseled out of. I have to admit that in school, I never actually finished reading a book, but had become pretty handy at faking it, and bluffing my way through tests.

  Soon, just quietly reading wasn’t enough. We started to read aloud to one another so we could both follow the story at the same time. And the nightly readings became a habit. After dinner and bath time, we would put the kids to bed, and start on a good book. Back then, there were no audio books, except a very limited selection for the handicapped at the library. Patti and I knew that most of our friends wouldn’t understand our odd and selfish ritual, so we kept it to ourselves. Until one night we were interrupted with company.

  A couple of friends stopped by for a friendly visit and had halted our progress on Heinlien’s ‘Stranger in a Strange Land’.  I was anxious to get back to the book and follow the story as it was just getting exciting, but couldn’t bring myself to ask them to leave.  Patti and I never made friends easily in school and knew that friends would forgive you in time for an occasional rudeness, but acting strange was freaking social suicide. I was more than a little awkward in that moment, and could feel the outlines of the paperback I had hastily sat on at their arrival to hide our ‘dirty little secret’ but asked:

  “Do you like science fiction?” Before they could answer, my hand found the book and I brought it up and burned through the rest of the chapter, aloud. I passed the book over to them and waited. I watched them exchange some uncomfortable glances at first, but to their credit, they gave it a try.  Before the night was over everyone had read aloud, and carried by the story line read with enthusiasm and zeal.

  For many years we carried on the tradition, and it was accepted if you showed up at our house for dinner on a Friday night, guests were expected to read aloud. It became more than just a gathering of friends sharing a good story. Some friends were shy and more than a little intimidated at first, but in a few weeks as their confidence grew became real performers delivering their lines with passion and power.

  As in all things, every action has consequences, good and bad, some of them unintentional; but nonetheless has lasting effects that surface as the years pass. During those early years when Patti and I discovered reading aloud we were completely unaware that someone else was listening in. Our children.  Patti and I were unaware that after bath-time when they were supposed to be in bed asleep, they would quietly creep out and closely follow the stories.

  The long term effects on our kids began to become apparent when people began to notice our children never used baby talk, always spoke clearly and distinctly, and had vocabularies well beyond their years. At a time when most kids were just learning the language, they would hold their own in any conversations with adults.

Worse still, their verbal skills were only surpassed only by a child’s natural logic and youthful sense of right and wrong. I have to admit I never once won an argument with them. Many times I was reduced to:

 ”But I am bigger than you! I am the Dad!” 

  My advice on parenting? Never have kids smarter than your own self.  

Jeff Wilson