Alas, Maybe Teenagers Speak Another Language

Published October 29, 1987. I’ll be the first to admit it, I don’t understand teenagers. I don’t understand how they think. I don’t understand how they act. And I don’t understand what they say. It is as if they speak a different language. And with our three teenagers – Tammy, Brian, and Jon – Susan and I sometimes think we need a host of United Nations translators in order to communicate with our older children.

Take, for instance, the periodic parent-teacher meetings at the local schools. We try to find out from the kids how they are doing before we go. It is like trying to talk with someone from Mars.

Parent-teacher conferences all tend to come during the same week, so there are some interesting words and expressions being tossed around in our home during those few days. We were preparing to go down to the junior high and talk with some of Jon’s teachers. We were concerned how he was doing in one particular class, so we asked him about it. Are you ready for the reply?

Jon paused and then replied, “I’m pretty sure I got a solid C+.” He assured me it was locked in. Tucked away. There was no way he could get lower than a C+ at this point in the class.

I told Jon when I went to high school there was no such thing as a “solid C+.” I asked him if he could try for something like a “weak B.” He said that was a little beyond him at this point. But he would give it some thought.

Then there is Brian. He uses some strange phrases. I asked him about his homework in one of his difficult classes. He assured me, and I quote, that it was “caught up.” We congratulated him for his efforts, but upon checking with his teacher later that week at the conference, we were somewhat alarmed to find he was “missing two assignments” in the class in which he said he was “caught up.”

We confronted Brian with the discrepancy. His teacher said that two assignments were missing. He didn’t skip a beat in his reply. He said the reports were in but were not finished. I tried with no avail to argue that if the reports were “not finished” then he really wasn’t “caught up.” He disagreed.

Our teenage son said he didn’t understand the two assignments, so he did part of the work and turned them in. I still maintained they were technically missing. He seemed unimpressed and then asked to borrow a dollar for a Big Gulp down the street at Circle K. You see what I mean?

And Tammy. She uses some interesting, but confusing words. The other day she and her friends were driving around in one of the family cars. The car was getting low on gas, so Tammy took some of her money and put some gas in the car, so they could get home.

Upon her return, she described the running-low-on-gas incident and how she had to spend some of her own money to put gas in the family car.

Now get this. Tammy asked me if she could be “reimbursed.” Somehow it just seems out of place for a teenager to ask a parent to be “reimbursed.” Reimbursement suggests that one “owes” the other something. Tammy believed I did. Maybe I could have handled it better if she had asked to be “paid back.” But “reimbursed?”

Tammy also informed me that while they were driving around there was “a little light blinking on the dashboard.” I asked her which light it was. She said she couldn’t remember. But she thought it said something like “oil.”

That . . . I understood.

Building Things of Lasting Value

Published May 19, 1983. Susan has often said that when it comes to doing romantic things, I am long on promise and short on delivery. Like many other husbands, my intentions are good, but I don’t always follow through.

So last week I followed through. I called the bishop, fire department, poison control center, emergency ward at the hospital, and local police and told them my wife and I were going to be away for a day or two. I also asked if they would keep an eye on our children.

Robert Goulet has always been one of our favorite singers, so when I found he was coming to Salt Lake to sing in Symphony Hall, I got tickets and made reservations at the Marriott Hotel across the street from Symphony Hall.

We only had minimal problems in getting away. There were slight innuendos of child abuse from our six kids. Tammy, age 14, agreed to watch the other children. Brian and Jon, 12 and 10 respectively, stated they would protest by riding their bikes up the canyon and spend the day shooting their BB guns. Jason, 6, and Kris, 3, agreed we could go if we would leave an ample supply of peanut butter and honey to assure them they would not starve during our two-day absence.

Our only major concern was our 16-year-old son. Doug, who that very day had received his driver’s license. After a few white-knuckled rides during the two previous weeks, he had proven to me he could, indeed drive. And during our absence he wanted to drive the rest of the children downtown for ice cream cones. Questioning his sudden altruism, we finally agreed, said prayers both vocal and silent, and left.

We arrived at the Marriott in time to change clothes and walk over to the beautiful Symphony Hall. Not only did we like Robert Goulet, but the two numbers performed by the Utah Symphony Orchestra at the beginning were also enjoyable.

Getting away as husband and wife is something we wait too long to do, and then we don’t do it often enough. Perhaps other husbands are like myself—long on promise but short on delivery.

Our room at the Marriott was on the 14^th floor facing north. What a spectacular view that was of downtown Salt Lake late at night. And most impressive to me was the view of the beautiful LDS Temple on Temple Square.

As I looked at the Temple late at night, I wondered why its construction took 40 years to complete. Given the fact that we now have more modern construction techniques, I also realized a few other things.

One was the relative destitute condition of the few thousand Mormon pioneers who started the edifice in 1853. Second was the fact that at least twice, the Mormon pioneers had to start over on the construction project. This occurred once during the Utah War of 1857 when Johnston’s Army threatened to enter the Salt Lake Valley. Brigham Young ordered the workmen to cover the foundation and encouraged the saints in Salt Lake to vacate the valley and move south.

After the Utah War Crisis was over, the soil was removed from the foundation, and construction on the temple was started once again.

Not long afterward, Brigham Young determined the foundation was insufficient and again ordered the workmen to reset the foundation. He announced the Temple must stand for a thousand years, even through the Millennium. So once again, they started over.

Finally, I realized that things of lasting value usually take a long time to build. And the same is as true of marriages as it is of temples. If they are to endure, they must be built on a solid foundation.  The construction of both will take skill, time, effort, knowledge, and patience.

It may be that after a few years of marriage, we may face difficult times and be tempted to give up. But like the Mormon pioneers and the Salt Lake Temple, we may have to start over, working together on the marriage.

Things of lasting value usually take a long time to build.

Don’t Worry About What’s Ahead

Published January 4, 1990. This column is a milestone of sorts for me. Eleven years ago this month, in January 1979, I wrote my first column on marriage for the Desert News. It was titled “Are You an Absentee Father?” More than 500 columns have followed. In that first column, I noted that some husbands are physically absent but psychologically present in the home. These men were those whose jobs or occupations required a great deal of travel away from home. Some husbands and fathers were able to stay away for long periods of time without noticeable disruption in the home.

The column also described many men who were physically present in the home . . . but were psychosocially absent. That is, their bodies were at home, but their minds weren’t. Their attention was devoted to television, work brought home from the office, hobbies, or a myriad of other activities that kept their wives and children at a distance. One wonders if much has changed during the past decade?

I confess—and Susan will agree—I am still an “absentee father” on many occasions. But not as much as I used to be. In retrospect, much has happened to our marriage and family during the 1980s. Perhaps the same is true of yours. Two of our seven children, Kris and Brandon, were born during that time, which necessitated moving to a larger home.

Doug, our eldest, was about to turn 12. Tammy was an active 10-year-old, Brian a curious 8-year-old, and Jon an inquisitive 6-year-old. Jason, it is difficult to believe, was a contented 3-year-old toddler. We had just moved to Orem two years earlier from Wisconsin where I had been teaching before accepting a position at Brigham young university. Susan was busy at home managing a handful of active children and a busy husband.

As I began writing for the Desert News in 1979, we were also on the threshold of a new decade. It’s interesting to look back and review what has happened. Would we want to know in advance what events were about to occur? I think not. That would take much of the adventure out of life. But as I gaze into my crystal ball, I can’t help but wonder where we all will be in the year 2000. What will we be doing? And once again I ask myself the question, “Do I want to know what lies ahead?” The answer is still the same. No, I do not. Much of the intrigue of life would diminish.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once noted something that may be pertinent as we leave the 1980s and head into the ‘90s. He said, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters when compared to what lies within us.”

Perhaps that thought is something we all could take with us into the next decade.