When I was very young, I don’t remember exactly how young. I was young enough to be playing on the kitchen floor, looking in the cupboards under the counter. I suspect pre-school, but don’t really know. Maybe others will know when kids get old enough to not follow their mother around and play on the kitchen floor.
In the cupboard was a can of condensed milk. Gee, I had never seen one before and did not have any idea what it was for. Mom said it was to make milk to feed babies. Well, that was interesting. Parents had to make special food for babies. I didn’t know that. And this brought up another question,
“Where do babies come from?”
Mom told me that when a mommy and a daddy got married, God gave them a baby.
“How does God know when a mommy and daddy get married?”
That was the last question I got to ask, and Mom ended the discussion.
It was some years later that Dad responded to my request for a set of medical books, that had a factual discussion of the matter of conception. I suspect when I was 10 or 11.
So, here, I was presented two very different views of life. One from Mom was based on religion and old stories. The other from Dad, based on science and new discoveries.. These different disciplines of thought returned in a number of important discussions throughout our lives. Mom, clinging to the old, Dad willing to examine the new and reconcile that with his religion.
One of the most graphic examples was in the early 60's when integration became a national issue. We went to the largest Methodist church in town. A black family had never attended any service there, with the exception of a missionary to Africa. However, there was a rumor that a black family from “the other side of town” was going to attend our church.
Mom said, “Why would they want to come to our church, instead of their own?”
I said, “Maybe they want to attend our church for exactly the same reason we like to attend our church.”
Dad looked at me, trying not to grin while keeping his mouth closed. Then, he looked at Mom (who was not very happy with my insubordination ) with “that look” that meant, “Don’t say anything”.
When the first black family ultimately attended our church, Mom and Dad were among the first to welcome them and tell them they hoped they choose to attend FUMC. I can not tell you how proud I am that Dad could take a lesson from his kid, and convince Mom that the child was right. This is why, when I say, I had great parents, I really believe it.
The best words Dad ever said to me were, “I know how important that is to you.” Dad’s ability to listen and understand someone else’s viewpoint was the reason he was a great boss and leader
Copyright, B Keim, 2020
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