Relationship Advice
Grew up in south St. Louis, Missouri, in a mostly Dutch ("scrubby Dutch" it was called due to the reputation it had for a zealous devotion to cleanliness) and German neighborhood between Hampton Village and the "Hill", which was predominantly Italian. My parents and I lived in a brick duplex above my paternal grandparents and across the street from my grandmother (my mother's father died before I was born) and most of my nine aunts and uncles and their children. The few immediate relatives that didn't live within shouting distance were no more than a mile or two away.
The era this October air is forcing me to recall stretches from the 50's through the late 70's. For those of my generation and younger, it was a period that morphed from "Happy Days", to "All In the Family", then "Three's Company". But the older generations remained children of two world wars, the Korean War, the Great Depression, and their Dutch-Teutonic heritage.
My grandfather would have summed up his relationship advice in two words. Avoid them. He would not have understood conversations about relationships, emotional needs, or personal fulfillment. To him, these topics had a simple solution. You dated one woman, two if you were irresponsible, you married her, you worked, raised a family, and died. Time was better spent mowing the lawn and washing the car.
The self-awareness and consciousness raising of the 60's did nothing more than amuse or frighten the older members of my family; although in the late 60's my father's youngest brother, rebel that he was, moved his family to that alternate dimension called California. Those left behind were convinced that California was where words such as "divorce", "hippie" and "me" were coined. A decade later I would follow in his footsteps.
This is not to say that I grew up in a cold environment. I recall the night my brother gathered us around the kitchen table and proudly announced he was going to ask his high school sweetheart's hand in marriage. My father, a man of even fewer words than his father, let my brother's announcement sink in, gave it serious consideration, then delivered his advice, "Don't forget, your car will need a new battery in September."
But to this day I believe there was a profound, though silent, ethic to be learned and appreciated from south St. Louis. Simply, that actions speak louder than words; that no matter what a person thinks or says, life is measured by what is done or neglected.
I remember trying to persuade (or was it provoke) my parents into agreeing that what a person does is influenced, if not determined, by what he thinks. They didn't waiver. Think and say what you want, they'd answer, but the sun will rise tomorrow and the grass will need mowing and the car will need washing.
That my parents loved each other deeply, I have no doubt. I believe this not because of anything I ever heard them say, I can't recall them ever using the word "love" in each other's presence, but from what I saw them do -- provide for and stand by each other through thick and thin, and there was an abundance of challenging thin.
The words that fueled the south St. Louis ethic have suffered in popularity. Duty. Obligation. Responsibility. Discipline. They now seem principles we are willing to accept only when we feel adequately compensated by fulfillment and personal satisfaction. My grandfather, however, would have argued that living a life guided by those principles is its own reward.
Who's to say? The prime is probably some sort of healthy balance between the self and the community, but opinions on that are best left to those more qualified.
What I can say is that life has repeatedly shown me the huge gap between words and actions, between knowing and doing. There's a devil inside that prevents me from doing all of the fine things I know I should and inspires me to do those I know I shouldn't.
And this relates to advice.
I'm not so familiar with relationship advice, but I am familiar with stock trading, which I've had the opportunity to teach. I have given many novice traders, in the serenity of a classroom, sound, solid advice on what to do and not do to succeed in tough situations. With very few exceptions, that advice went out the window in the heat of action.
We all know better. It's just so darned tough to do better when the cards are on the table.
That's when those not-so-popular south St. Louis words can help. They can help us overcome that little internal devil and put into practice the sound advice we receive from those who know and speak.