Liz's Lesson Learned: Inheritance Pt. 2

Mom and Dad, I inherited your determination to stand up for what is right and to protect my family. 

Dad, remember how you went up to my 6th-grade elementary school teacher and told her I was right for refusing to stay after school?  She said I had to stay behind because I once again did not want to take my books home.  Why should I when I had done my homework in class while they were working on another subject.  I told her I could not stay after because I had to get my little brother from his Kindergarten class and walk him home from school.  (Remember, Mom, you both told me he could not walk home alone.) 

When the bell rang, at first, I sat there huffing and puffing because I was not taking those books home. Then my little brother poked his head in the door, saw me, and came towards me.

That teacher asked, “What do you need?"

 “I have to wait for my sister to walk me home.”

“Well, she can’t leave now.  You go along home.” 

That’s when the big sister spun into action.  “Oh no.  He cannot walk home alone!” 

“Then he will have to wait outside until you decide to take your books.” 

“No,” I said.  “Come on, let’s go”.  Off I walked with his hand in mine (okay, I went without those books). 

“Get back here, Elizabeth!” I heard her voice as I continued to out of that classroom…

Boy, I thought I would be in big trouble for walking out of that class.  Of course, Dad, you and Mom received that call and had to come to school for a parent/teacher conference.

It was your turn, Dad.  (Yeah, I remember how the six of us kept you both busy going back and forth to school.)  Since I remembered your warning not to let you find out from someone else first, I gave you both my version of what happened the night before.

Dad, when you arrived at my class, our gym teacher was talking with my teacher.  When he left, it was time for the two of us to sit down with her. 

My teacher jumped right to the point, “Elizabeth left class yesterday when I told her she had to stay after until she decided to take her schoolbooks home to do her homework.  She just walked out.”

I thought, “Oh boy, this is not going to go well.”  But seconds later, Dad, you came to my rescue!! 

“Did she tell you she had completed her homework?” 

“Yes, she did.” 

“Did her brother come to the class?” 

“Yes, he did.” 

“Did she explain that her brother could not walk home alone?  Did you tell her brother to go wait outside?” 

“Yes, he could not wait in the classroom.” 

“Then, she could not stay after school, and she was right to take her brother and come home.  If she completed her work in class, why did she still need to take her books home; unless you were giving her additional work to do? 

Well, Dad, that was one of the times I realized that you would stand up for me and protect me if I was doing the right thing.  Inheriting that desire to protect and stand up for right still burns deep in my soul.

Mom, you were right there ready to defend me also.  I guess I really needed you both in the sixth grade.  Remember, I was supposed to play in the orchestra concert? 

First of all, thank you for coming through again by getting my black skirt, white blouse, and black shoes (Man, I was glad I no longer needed to wear those corrective bone-colored shoes!!)  Those of us in the orchestra also wore a red piece of ribbon tied around our collars.  I was so happy as I came in with my violin and was ready to get in line with the others.  That is until the Assistant Principal came up and told me I could not play that night. 

Remember how I came crying and said, “I cannot play? 

You asked me why and still sobbing, I said, “I don’t know.” 

Off you went to speak to that Assistant Principal, “Why can’t my daughter play?” 

“Because she went on a class trip without permission.” 

“What trip did she go on without permission?” 

“The class trip” was the Assistant Principal’s hurried response.  “Children cannot go on trips without parental consent.” 

You responded, “That was an overnight trip.  How do you suppose my daughter would be able to be away from home overnight without my permission?  She had my permission.  So, there is no reason why she cannot play tonight.”

I am still smiling at how I got to play in that concert...

And yes, I do realize that you also left me the knowledge that parents are not only our supporting champions but they also are our disciplinarians.

How about the time the six of us came downstairs early on Christmas morning and found we all had new bikes?  Six new bikes, a bike to match our age our and size, and our ability.  There were three blue bikes for me and my two sisters and three red bikes for my three brothers.  There were other toys, and the boys got a nice race car track.

Remember how your son… (yes, he’s my wonderful older brother when he’s not getting me in trouble) …rode his bike around our small, smartly decorated living/dining room area.  The five of us knew it was trouble when he lost his balance, and fell on that new race car track. 

At the sound of the crash, you both came downstairs frustrated and sent us all back to bed.  Christmas morning, and we were sent back to bed!!

Then there was the time when you both got fed up with me jumping over our backyard fence and running off through the neighborhood to play with friends.  This went against your rule you repeated over and over again for us to stay in the backyard.  Remember Mom; you would watch me hop that fence and take off.  Well, this time enough was enough, and when I got back you asked, “Where have you been?” 

“To play with my friends.” 

So, you grabbed my skinny arm and took me off, and I got that talking-to-swatting lesson: “Didn’t I tell you….”  Swat, swat on the backside… “Not to go jumping over that fence...”  Swat, swat.  “And running off God knows where.” 

By now, I’m wailing like you are killing me even though you really are not swatting my backside that hard. So, you stop swatting and continue your verbal lesson, “And having us worrying about where you are.  You are not going to do it again now, are you?”  

“No”, I shrieked like the world was ending. 

At some point after I became an adult, you both told me you hated having to swat my bottom because I made it seem like you were killing me.  Yeah, probably because I knew that would get you to stop. 

You taught me that being a parent would mean I would have to have compassion when disciplining was necessary.  I, too, would experience many days when I would still feel that pull of sadness at the need to discipline my children.

Mom and Dad, most importantly, you taught me how people who loved one another should behave.  I knew what to look for and insist upon in a husband.  I knew that if I loved my children and raised them well (like the two of you did), they would flock to my side in times of joy, sorrow, and need. 

Dad, I can remember that when I was dating my one and only boyfriend, you would come whenever I called. You would remind him that I was never alone, and you would always be there for me.  You passed down your caring nature by helping my hubby out during our early years of marriage. I recall how he could come to you to borrow your car to get to work when his parents’ car was not available. 

Mom, remember how you would look up, and my hubby would still come and sit beside you in church even after we had been divorced?

I’m chuckling to remember how surprised some folks were when we announced we were getting remarried, because they never knew we were divorced.