Of late, I've been enjoying The Dog Whisperer with Cesar Milan. In it, Cesar visits various people's houses and helps them train their seemingly-out-of-control dogs rather quickly by showing the owners how to exert a calm dominate energy around their dogs. The result is a calm submissive pack.
So I'm watching this show, and it suddenly dawns on me how much like parenting this is AND how much like a pack leader my dad was to us kids growing up.
Without a doubt, my dad exuded a here-we-go-follow-me kind of energy, and in the midst of his determined leadership, he created a home environment that was safe from the outside world. He did his darndest to protect us from financial fears by working hard at what I think must have been a boring job. I mean, who really dreams of selling insurance when they grow up? His hard work provided a home with working drains and roof without leaks, a private school education, and more than enough clothes and food for us kids.
He and my mom intentionally saved their disagreements for private discussions, and that created a safe place for me and my siblings to do all the arguing ourselves. I don't recall being afraid that I had created a rift between my parents or that they might get a divorce. They were committed to each other, I had no doubt, and the idea that they might physically fight with each other was a household joke.
I also can't remember a time—besides the times when I willingly put myself in danger—when I was rationally concerned for my safety. Even when our motorhome lost its brakes while driving down a steep and windy road in the middle of nowhere, which, by the way, was where we usually vacationed, and my dad sternly commanded me to get into a seat, I can only remember my prevailing emotion being that of curiosity. What was going to happen next? What would my dad do?
On our vacations to nowhere, I was unafraid of wild animals or scruffy looking characters just so long as my dad was nearby. He was convinced that the best way to conquer anything was to face one's fears so he had a remarkable amount of knowledge about the way the world worked. When I posed questions to him about being bitten by snakes or stung by hornets or chased by wolves, he could quell my fears by explaining how the natural world usually worked.
He also had a remarkable amount of confidence in me in matters that now, as a mom, make my legs turn to jello. He let us explore and discover and take risks on our own. He encouraged us to go fast, climb high, and jump far. And when we goofed up, he was there to bandage scrapes, pay ER bills, and replace damaged equipment.
Cesar Milan explains how the best way for a nervous or frightened dog to calm down is for the owner to stop exuding fearful, angry energy. As far as I can remember, my dad never seemed nervous or afraid, and he definitely didn't yell at us kids. I had no idea how difficult that was to do until I became a parent.
He practiced a sort of control that compelled him to leave the room if ever he felt his blood pressure rising beyond what he felt was healthy. I recall him leaving the room when one of us kids didn't like what he had to say. He just decided he was done talking about an issue and walked out. Of course, this infuriated us as teens, but I realize now why he did it. I might even adopt this technique in later days.
It's funny how my parents make so much more sense now that I'm a parent with my own kids, one of whom is very much like my dad. Who knows? Maybe one day Lee will make a great pack leader too.
More on parents: My Mother, Happy Father's Day, Fred Taylor, Expectations We Have About Our Parents, Rewriting the Messages, The Archaic Trust, The Sins of Our Fathers, Who to Blame for My Problems, It's Not My Fault,
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