Artichokes, Aprons, and Art

For years now, Sharon and I have been brainwashing our grandkids every chance we get. It has always been unapologetic and unbridled in Nana’s attempt to influence. The kiddos, as Amy likes to call them, were roped into kitchen duties, art classes and learning table manners. Later on, theatrical ventures became a part of their time spent in the desert. All under the guise of: ‘you need to learn this now so you can use it for the rest of your life.’

Now, none of us adults have any illusion that our grandchildren are going to become world-class gourmet chefs, New York gallery artists or a modern-day version of Miss Manners. But they darn well will become comfortable around a frying pan, a paint brush and learn how to prepare an eight-course meal. And it ‘will be fun’ in the process….so says Nana. If any of them catch the artists/acting bug, Papa will also be thrilled beyond words.

For the last seventeen or so years, Sharon and I have been fortunate enough to be able to host both families; the LaCombs and the McMahons in Palm Springs for either the Thanksgiving or Christmas holidays. From the very start, when Maya was just a toddler, Sharon felt it was important to introduce her grandchildren to the culinary arts, painting in many different mediums and basic table manners.

The kiddos very quickly went from baking cookies to more complex recipes. Pretty soon, they were preparing side dishes and desserts for many meals. Art classes began with alcohol ink then graduated to more complex mixtures of acrylic paints and other formulas to get some interesting results.

All of the grandchildren helped set the table at night, learning proper placement and table etiquette. They learned to wait until everyone was served before beginning to eat. They understood that a simple prayer and acknowledgement of life’s graces was also part of the ritual. It was family time and family was/is everything for us.

As the years passed and the kids grew older, Papa began writing short plays for ‘staged readings’ that the kids could perform. The first props were puppets and loveable ‘Cash,’ their Colorado dog. Their parents and an ever-growing audience of friends and neighbors were in attendance for their performances.

Over the last several years, music has been added to the mix and Maya singing, accompanied by Samantha on her ukulele, has entertained the crowd. It’s just another example of our pushing the grandkids out of their comfort zone.

When you’re at Nana and Papa’s house, it’s part of the package. The kids have grown to understand and (I think) like the ritual, the process, and the pushing of comfortable boundaries. It’s become part of overall experience of time spent in the desert. I think we’re all the better for it. I know I certainly am.

Generational Wealth

In our society, hot topics come and go; each generating a lot of press, hype, concern and historical secrets finally revealed. Generational wealth is the latest in a long string of painful reminders of our past which has recently surfaced into our consciousness.

The market crash of 2008, George Floyd incident and other reveals brought a new level of understanding of wealth building, societal success and life style enhancements available to some and yet leaving many others behind. We were told that generational wealth was the culprit. If only it were that easy to explain away. Now to be sure, generational wealth transfer is a real thing. Sharing liberally from the internet, I found some interesting facts about the subject:

“In the United States, a survey from the Federal Reserve shows that the top 10% of the population holds 74% of the country’s wealth, while the bottom 50% holds just 2%. A major reason for that disparity is the transfer of wealth from generation to generation.”

“A 2018 analysis by the Federal Reserve reported that “the bulk of intergenerational transfers are flowing to families that already have substantial resources.” It found that nearly 40% of intergenerational transfers went to households in the top 10% of the population in terms of income, while only about 20% went to families in the bottom 50%.”

Other types of intergenerational wealth transfers may come into play here. For example, education is highly correlated with greater earning power and wealth. Thus, a family that can afford to pay for the next generation’s college education is giving them an edge in accumulating more wealth of their own.

“The 2022 Survey of Consumer Finances by the Federal Reserve documents racial disparities in financial well-being in the country. According to the report, the average White family had approximately six times as much wealth as the average Black family and five times the average Hispanic family.”

The report goes on to specifically state that "because of continued barriers and the inter-generational nature of wealth, it is very difficult for individuals or families to overcome the gaps."

While facts can’t be disputed (except in today’s political climate) I think there are mitigating circumstances in this discussion that are often overlooked. Hence, it’s never as simple as it’s been painted.

One of my family members and I have a different perspective on generational wealth. Our conversations sometimes make me think I should apologize for being born white. Not privileged, not well educated, nor wise to societal norms and nuances, just plain white. And she has a point there.

My mother (as many of my past blogs have mentioned) was born and raised on a farm in Sterns County, Minnesota. She had a sixth-grade education, no marketable skills, no family support system and no encouragement to leave the nest.

Yet she somehow found the wherewithal, determination, guts and perseverance to succeed on her own. As a young woman she traveled the country, visited the World’s Fair in Chicago and settled in Carmel, California. That is until her father’s declining health brought her back to the farm she so desperately wanted to escape from. Then a chance meeting at the Twin Cities Arsenal (tough work but good pay) brought my future father into the picture.

After that marriage failed and with two toddlers to support, she somehow found the focus and determination to build her own home and enroll my sister and I in a Catholic grade school in downtown Saint Paul. Her focus was on the Catholic part, not necessarily the educational angle.

Now, I will be the first to recognize that while her situation was dire at times and incredibly difficult, it would have been exponentially harder had she not been born white. Simple as that.

Where I sometimes come to mental fisticuffs with my relative on this subject is the self-determination angle. I know I sometimes sound like an old conservative codger but I do believe in mental fortitude, self-determination and nurturing a hunger to succeed. That desire to get ahead is color blind, deaf to negativity and strong enough to overcome whatever is placed in front of it.

While I can’t now nor could I back then clearly explain why I had a different vision for my life; I know I did. Being raised as good German Catholics, my mother, sister and I never talked about anything or anyone in a negative manner. Yet, even by eighth grade, I knew which family members drank too much, couldn’t keep a job, had low-end jobs and not much of a future. I also knew which extended family members had carved out a different vision for themselves.

One Sunday morning, during a very long and painful sermon about ‘who the hell knows what?’ I decided to mentally divorce my relatives. I knew I meant nothing to them; they meant nothing to me; we were related in name only.

Getting accepted into Cretin High School put me directly on a path I knew I was going to follow. I’m pretty sure among some of the relatives that was known as ‘risen above one’s raisin’ and always began with ‘So, who does he think he is?’

My point is simply this: I know it would have been more difficult for me to succeed had I not been born white. But the color of my skin would not nor could not have erased the hunger I felt inside to succeed. That was true for me and can be true for anyone today. While color can be a determining factor in so many angles of life, there are still many avenues to success for generational wealth.

Helping your children with educational expenses, medical expenses, and a solid, mentally healthy upbringing are all steps toward financial freedom for them. Of course, the best gift any parent can give their kids are learning useful life skills followed by a good educational foundation and/or good trade or job skills.

Yes, generational wealth is harder to attain nowadays but still possible for many. It just takes a lot of work – hard work to succeed.

Welcome to the real world.

American Ramble Adieu

Not long ago, an old man of eighty-two peddled his electric bicycle along the same route he took seventy-five years earlier as a first grader in downtown Saint Paul. Most everything had changed along the way including himself. But it was a comfortable ride and let him dream a little dream as the miles rolled by.

The old brick school house is long gone but the little French church next to it remains. Most of the folks he knew back then have also faded away with the decades that followed. After he left downtown, he seldom stepped foot back there ever again. An effort for an all-class reunion died before it was ever born.

After the hill climb to St. Louis Catholic Church, I retraced my old street car ride back along West Seventh Street then up Randolph Avenue to the little house my mother built there seventy-six years earlier. It was a nostalgic return to a time of vapid images still etched in my gray matter. A wandering return to a place that no longer exists except in my memory.

Neil King Jr. in his wonderful book ‘American Ramble’ truly captures the age-old concept of wanderlust in all of its many forms. He writes: ‘As fine a start to any walker’s reading list would be Rebecca Solnit’s history of walking and the literature of walking, Wanderlust, which delves deep into the Western history of wandering and its influence on art and the human mind.’

More recently, there has been an abundant enchantment in Patrick Leigh Fermor’s trilogy on his 1933 walk from Holland to Constantinople, which begins with the incomparable A Time of Gifts. The long list of literature celebrating the wandering soul goes on and on.

A long time ago, when I was raising a family and only had time for daily runs and weekend bike rides, I immersed myself in travel books of a more circuitous nature.

Even before that, feeling constrained by the confines of youth, I fully embraced the wild idea of traveling around the world in a tramp steamer. That idea was brought on by a paperback book found at the drug store.

I never did go tramping around the world. I did manage to live in Europe for a while and returned there often. Through the decades, I’ve done South and Central America, the European thing and Asia included. I know it’s only been a fraction of what others have done. But it satisfied my soul and taste for the unexplored.

Yet as fascinating as these jaunts have been, it’s the closer to home, more leisurely rambles about town that bring the most enjoyment now. In my simple mind, there’s nothing more relaxing, eye-opening, and satisfying than a petal-assisted ride wherever in town I want to roam.

My new e-bike makes the ride even easier on back and limb. I may be too old to bike across the United States but I can settle for a tour of Twin Cities instead. Granted, it’s not quite the same but it satisfies my curiosity and lets me pretend I’m that kid once again.