dodging ear worms and seeking advice


Happy Sunday!

I hope your day is like seeing the full moon rise over the desert on a much-anticipated road trip.


Hiya Reader!

I’m very prone to ear worms. I won’t let you in on the two that are tormenting me most these days, because I’m not cruel like that. I’ll just say they’re from my daughter’s incredibly comprehensive 70’s playlist - check it out if you’re feeling nostalgic.

There’s one line that keeps popping into my head, mostly because it’s so germane to my life: I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger. (I’m not sure why the video for this song is a teenage boy’s fantasy of manhood. I guess Rod Stweart is just like that.)

There are a million or so clichés about how youth is wasted on the young and wisdom comes too late to take advantage of it. I have a theory about that, or maybe it’s more of a fever dream. I like to swim in the mirage of a multi-generational community in which the wisdom of the battle-worn is accessible to the fresh-faced youth. Perhaps this exists on another plane of existence?

I mean, what I really want is a gentle transfer of knowledge and understanding, none of this Father Knows Best malarkey. A universe in which we could take advice from our parents without resentment, and they could give it to us without judgment. A space for making mistakes without being publicly shamed. A place where you could take the proffered advice or not, with no repercussions.

I just can’t help thinking about what a better parent and partner I’d be if I were embarking on those adventures now, with my acquired edification. But did I take advantage of the experience of my elders? Okay, honestly I didn’t have that many elders to tap for advice, coming as I do from The World’s Smallest Family™️. And I didn’t want to raise my kids in precisely the way I was raised, for a variety of reasons. Maybe that’s part of the problem; we want to do it our way, with our ideas and strategies and modern techniques which our parents couldn’t possibly understand, what with their antiquated ideas.

This strikes me as the American Way. Our national motto could be Don’t Tell Me What To Do.

Was parenting always a competitive sport? I know my mother and her friends had opinions about the way other people were doing it, so maybe that kind of competition has always been with us. I guess if Facebook had been around in the 70’s all the judging and one-upmanship would have been as proudly public-facing as it is today.

Short of writing books and hosting podcasts and online influencing, is there an effective way to convey the lessons learned over a lifetime to younger parents without sounding like a crotchety old know-it-all?

I write articles about parenting. Are they helpful? Who can say? My next question is, “Is it even interesting to young parents to read my less-than-piping-hot takes”? I guess the answer must be yes, since the magazines keep publishing and the editors keep assigning. Is this how we transfer knowledge in the Age of Information? Spout our opinions, based on our experiences and world view, and hope they land where they can provide some solace, at least? Seems rather inefficient.

My kid wants to have kids, and I think she’ll be an excellent parent. I won’t force my ideas upon her, because that’s not how we roll. Will she ask for my advice? Maybe. But maybe trial and error is the best way, in the end. You’ve got to see outcomes before you can fully believe in the efficacy of whatever it is you’re trying.

Maybe instead of trying to pass on the knowledge we’ve accrued over a lifetime we should simply be teaching our kids to be the very best versions of themselves: self-actualized, with a strong grasp of boundaries, and no people-pleasing pathologies. Armed with strategies for regulating their nervous systems, a working knowledge of mindfulness techniques, the understanding that feelings are not facts.

In other words, maybe this Gen Z preoccupation with mental health will lead to more well-adjusted adults and more prepared parents. Which is a pretty good outcome. Though not as good as having eight other adults around to help.

xo, Julia


Recommendation!

A friend turned me on to R. Eric Thomas a few months ago. I hugely enjoy his newsletter - it's very funny! It's about books and theater and pop culture! It never mentions politics or the state of the world!

Now Eric has taken over Ask Amy's advice column, reframed as Asking Eric, and it's my new favorite. IMO it's high time we had a queer black guy doling out advice. Why have we assumed that only middle-aged white ladies know what's what? Don't bother answering, I already know. :)

(The link is to The Washington Post - if you run into a paywall he's easy to find in outlets all over the internet.)


Recently published:

I write things for magazines. Here are a couple of recent articles.

What are we gonna do without the middle children? It's all very well to limit your offspring to one or two, but I think we're going to regret the lack of middles.

Here are five things to throw out in your bathroom. I can write about decluttering until the cows come home. The bathroom, in my opinion, is the easiest place to start.


Little Mix want to give their younger selves advice, and so does this email. Forward it to someone who always provides good counsel.

Families and Other Freaks

Weekly-ish dispatches about families of every kind, and what it's like to try to live in one. Humor, insight, recommendations, warm takes - if the whole notion of family inspires and exhausts you, you're in the right place.

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