Last week I attended teacher’s convention for two days, a regional conference for educators in our half of the state. My daughter accompanied me for part of the conference, speaking with me at learning sessions. I talked about my book, and she about BookWorm Wednesday — possibly the best illustration of youth empowerment I could ask for.

While we were busy conferencing, my nine-year-old son spent time with Grandma – something she’d claim she doesn’t get to do nearly enough. My mom raised me as a single parent, and she was thankful I was born a girl, since she has always had the feeling she didn’t have much to offer to boys. Knowing this, I wondered what they’d do together – Grandma and her strong Y-chromosome grandson. How would they spend their day?

They spent most of one morning finding deals at garage sales. They had lunch at Old Country Buffet, where he could pick out whatever he wanted to eat. She listened to him give her a report on a book he’d read (book review to publish here next month) and paid him a $2 bill for doing it. They worked together outside on an unseasonably warm fall day, and she hired him to help her spread dirt and clean out her garden.

And each day when I returned to her house after the conference, they were perched at the dining room table playing double-solitaire. They could hardly pull their attention away long enough to say, “Hello.”

My mom is an efficient, productive, hard-working woman. She has been all her life. The time she spent with my son both honored and celebrated the work, while embracing the play as well. And the small, seemingly insignificant moments they spent together helped to build a relationship.

I can’t count the inter-generational lessons he learned during those two days — about frugality, work ethic, and the importance of reading. And he learned these things without her needing to necessarily say anything – it was their actions together that taught the lessons, as well as her genuine interest in listening to everything he had to say.

For “knowing nothing about boys,” it seems to me she’s figured it out. Craig thought the whole visit was awesome. And he told me, “Next time she says she wants me to teach her how to play 500.”

Grandma rocks.

Other Torch-Passers
How Much do You Tell Your Kids About the Financial Crisis?
Youth Ministers Meet to Decide Future of European Youth Policy

What does passing the torch mean to you? Is it teaching? Passing traditions? Doing the right thing? Or good news about youth? Join us each week for Pass the Torch Tuesday. Former PTT posts.

My friend Genny is hosting a thoughtful project this month, based on a book she read entitled, One Month to Live. Although I certainly won’t know when my 30 day clock will begin, it’s an interesting prospect to consider how I’d use my time.

In high school I made a “life list” and I’ve considered writing a reprise to that — all the destinations I’ve yet to travel, and the goals I’ve yet to achieve. But this project is quite different. With only 30 days, I find myself thinking more about what I wouldn’t do, than what I would do.

I wouldn’t
…go anywhere, see things or fill my life with adventure, like I would on a bucket list that I might take decades to cross off. I wouldn’t achieve, reach goals or buy things.

I wouldn’t watch the news, or listen to anyone who shared the negative side of it.

I wouldn’t answer the phone or sort my email inbox.

I wouldn’t resent, regret, worry, or feel obligated, angry or hurt.

I would
…pick and choose the small things that have brought me joy.

I’d live at the cabin, like we do in the summer.

I’d fill the freezer with filet mignon and shrimp, make fancy dinners with my daughter and bake chocolate chip cookies from scratch with my son.

I’d rise early and go to bed late, watch the sun illuminate the lake as I drank coffee with my husband, and watch it blaze red at dusk as we sipped Merlot.

I’d go for walks.

I’d toast marshmallows with my kids and ride bikes to Dairy Queen.

I’d blog every day, leaving my own “Last Lecture.”

I’d take pictures.

If friends and family visited, we’d talk and laugh, and share good news.

I wouldn’t talk about dying in 30 days.

And I’d thank God if he let my last 30 days be healthy ones.

What would you do with your time, if you knew you only had 30 days to live?

I once read a magazine article that cautioned, “Don’t try to make your Mr. Right, Mr. Perfect.”

What a wise statement.

As years pass, I often find myself doing just that. How easy it is to take our spouses for granted, and get caught up in the stressful stuff of life that ultimately doesn’t matter. If I take even a single step back to look at the whole picture, I quickly understand how fortunate I am to have married this man.

It’s more than the fact that he’s a hard worker, an attentive husband and father, and that he fills the gas tank. He fills the gaps I leave as a parent, he’s playful and loves to fish. And he helps me to become who I want to be. How could I ask for more?

I love you, Mr. Right!

Readers, please join me in wishing him a Happy 40th Birthday!

(Works-for-Me Wednesday is backwards this week, so I’m asking what works for you!)

We canceled our cable and Internet last spring when we moved to the cabin. I wasn’t happy with the Internet service and knew TV and Internet wouldn’t get used in an empty house, so we saved ourselves about $300 to cancel everything. But now we’re faced with the reality we’re moving home from the cabin, and have none of our electronics hooked up. I called to install a phone line, so we’ll go with DSL this time. But I’m so conflicted about the television.

Up until three years ago, we’d never had cable or satellite television. The four network stations we received were enough, despite their sometimes fuzzy reception. But we’d moved to a remote area that required a 15-foot-tall antenna to acquire a signal, and even then it was iffy.

So we plunged. We got Dish Network, which catered to our perceived need to plug in and zone out. And because of it, we are now the proud parents of two Disney Channel addicts.

And I’m thinking about pulling the plug.

I purchased $15 rabbit ears for our TV and found that we receive one channel perfectly and about three others so-so, if I jimmy the antenna. The kids noticed the TV was on, after three months off, and were very excited, but I didn’t have the heart to explain my evil plan.

I’m inspired by friends like Holly who have done the same thing. This cold-turkey loss of cable may induce some drama in our household, but I’d love to think that it might also lead to better family communication. I guess we’ll see.

I brought up the discussion on Twitter, and Beth at Life with Two Little Vikings suggested I offer up some kind of family reward for the money we’ll save (which would total at least $30 per month.) This may ease the discontent that will surely be communicated when our daughter hears the news.

I’d love to hear about your experiences related to quitting cable, as well as more suggestions on making the switch. Thanks so much!

Good News About Youth and the Adults Who Empower Them:

The “Curriculum”
Off to College
This Quiet House

What does passing the torch mean to you? Is it teaching? Passing traditions? Doing the right thing? Or good news about youth?

Join us each week for Pass the Torch Tuesday.

Former PTT posts.

Our loons have been a relaxing distraction this summer. The two families that we see most often on our lake seem like friends to those who live here — cohabitants of a beautiful waterfront retreat.

The tiny fluffballs that ride on their parents backs in June, are fully capable of diving and even flying by September, but it’s interesting to note that the adults were still feeding their “teenagers” when I shot this photo in August. The parents dive deeply and then return with a morsel, the young loons paddling quickly to reach the adult and take the minnow into their own beak.

And after swallowing the fish, the young loon (on the left) engaged in a sweet habit of circling the adult (on the right.) That’s how I captured this pose – it almost looks like the two are hugging.

As their feathers turn from the stark black and white of spring, to the warm brown hues we see now, I know that autumn is nearly here. I’ll definitely miss our loons when they fly south for the winter…

Wisconsin Loon Series
Early June
Late June
August

For More Wordless Wednesday, please go here or here.

This post is a part of Fussy’s Thursday Happiness Project Thursday.