When I travel, I have the opportunity to sit in airports and train stations and look at parents with their children. It’s probably the most unfair setting to make any kind of judgments or come to any kind of conclusions.
Children are, for the most part, not good travelers. The environment is unfamiliar. Strangers abound. Excitement is in the air…or at least the anticipation of going somewhere new or returning to someplace like home.
And if you were ever going to name a place where chaos might reign supreme more often than not, it is an airport or a train station. Flights cancelled, trains late, travelers stressed, parents doing their best.
It’s scenarios like these that make me realize the truth of the statement that “It takes a village to raise a child.”
It might not take a village in most cases, but it helps to have help. My personal role in trying to not have the next generation run the world (or the family) into a ditch is to play the role of Uncle Byron.
My nieces and nephews come in all ages and maturity levels, many times not correlated with each other at all. My contributions to the Overall Good of the Child ranges from harsh words of warning to lethargic shrugs to loving hugs, depending on the individual and the situation.
By always telling my nieces and nephews the truth, unpleasant as it may be, and be offering a fairly objective perspective that includes their parents’ concerns, I am sometimes able to steer the wayward and motivate the listless.
Sometimes not.
To them, I am the eccentric who dresses like a character in a novel, doesn’t really like half of my relatives, and lives in a foreign country. I make borderline jokes and share off-color stories that their parents would never approve of. Usually these come with a caveat about their being an appropriate time and place for the base, and many times the story is one about my own mistakes. It is always accompanied by a life lesson, i.e., do not urinate on a Dublin police officer’s leg, no matter how funny you may think it is at the time.
I always offer qualified encouragement. I don’t believe that anybody can do anything. I believe that people have talents they need to discover, develop, and put to work. What happens after that is down to motivation, inspiration, perseverance, and luck.
I never count anyone out, but I won’t support fantasies.
I won’t keep secrets from their parents if real pain or danger could result from silence. But I won’t rat them out for being stupid. (Though they do get an earful of my unfiltered wrath to compensate.)
For me, it is a never-ending learning curve on how to give (financially and in other ways) and how to advise. I struggle to recognize which lessons I can impart effectively and which lessons people must learn on their own. Only now, at this late date, have I come to accept that I do what I can to help, but I must let my younger relatives learn some of life’s harsh truths on their own.
If you’re taught something you might learn the idea of it, but if you experience something you’ll know the truth of it. This I know, and this I must sometimes witness.
Money rarely solves a problem for any length of time. Still, I give out of love, without expectation but with hidden hope that it will be used as fuel, not merely for fun.
The results are a mixed bag, as with most things. But I do what I can. I am not their parent. I am their uncle. It’s an honor and a pain in the ass, but also the greatest part-time job in the world.
If you have the opportunity to be an uncle to someone, I’d highly recommend it.
- BGT