In   1998, when our oldest child graduated from high school, I was one of the youngest parents in attendance. In 2014, when our youngest child graduates, I will—very likely—be the oldest parent at the ceremony. The last chick in our nest starts high school in about three weeks. While that seems incomprehensible at times, it’s also almost as incredible that in the last several years, our daughter—the first-born—and her wonderful husband, have given us five incredible grandchildren.  We are blessed!

On Sunday afternoon this past weekend, I was holding our newest granddaughter, two-month-old Mara Grace.  She and I were having a chat. Mara Grace is at that precious stage when babies lock their eyes onto yours and mimic your facial expressions, turning their little mouths into perfect O’s and cooing, then bursting into gummy grins. Exquisite joy! I was carrying on a running conversation with her.

“Tell, me. What do you have to say? Is it important? I’m listening. Tell me all your secrets. Do you know how special you are? Well, you are! You are the most special baby in the whole wide world. Yes, you are! Yes, you are!”

After a few minutes I picked up her sweet little feet and began to play pat-a-cake.

Our oldest granddaughter, eight-year-old Mariah, came and leaned against my arm.

“Boppie, what are you doing?”

“I’m talking to the baby.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s important.”

“When do babies learn to talk back?”

I maintained eye contact with the baby and started answering Mariah in the same sing-song voice I had been using when talking to Mara Grace.

“She’s learning to talk back right now,” I said.

“She is?” Mariah didn’t sound convinced.

“She sure is, just by me talking to her, she’s learning to talk back to me. Listen to the little noises she’s making, and watch how she’s moving her mouth and sticking her tongue out.”

“But those aren’t real words, Boppie.”

“Not yet, but they will be.”

Imagine a baby’s brain as a giant electronic circuit board just waiting to be fired up. It needs a “spark” to get it started, but once there is stimulation, those sparks fly from neural path to neural path. They leap across voids as synapses fire and open new channels for growth and intelligence. Every time we speak to our babies, those synapses start jumping! Reading to your baby, singing to your baby, tickling down a little leg, or holding their hands in yours and clapping them together causes the synapses to fly!

What does playing pat-a-cake have to do with all this? Why it’s a treasure trove of synapse stimulation. The chanting stimulates the part of the brain that recognizes music and speech/language, the patting stimulates tactile (or touch) regions of the brain and fine and gross motor skills areas are awakened, oh—and equally important—you are stimulating the part of the brain that tells your baby they are important to you because you are interacting with him or her. Just from playing a 15 second game. Great results from so little invested time.

Of course, you’ll want to do it over and over when you see how excited your baby is. Try “Itsy-Bitsy Spider.” They love that one. You may have to modify the movements with your two month old, but that’s okay. They won’t mind a bit. And while you two are having such a good time, remember your baby is learning how to focus attention, listen, talk—and to love.

There, I’ve said it—even shouted it!

Doesn’t make sense, though, does it? Might not seem to, in view of the fact that I’ve never even met most of you. But I do. I’m not talking about warm vibes, and happy fuzzies (yet). I’m always delighted and a bit surprised when I glimpse a name on FB and respond spontaneously and instantly. I know you. Your name is a handle attached to a package of immense value. So my heart jumps. But…that is the second level of loving you. It takes some knowing you to make those happy feelings occur.

But for those of you I don’t yet know, I love you, too. I’m talking about the respect I feel for you—you count! You are awesome at the most basic level. I value you, treasure you—honor your worth. And I’d like to experience knowing you. And feel the added joy of being a close friend and brother. But whether I get to know you, or not, I want to honor you and bless you life. I LOVE YOU!

You’re at the right place! GrandpaDale.com is our sister site and a bit of renovation is underway there, so we’re happy to serve as your host. Welcome!

And welcome to those coming from FaceBook, Twitter and elsewhere–possibly looking for information about one of our most exciting projects of all times…

ff0000;">Pat-the-Baby!

All of my adult life I’ve wanted to make a difference in the lives of children. As a result, I’ve written children’s picture books, have been a founding director of youth camps in three states and Canada, have worked extensively as a family coach, have spoken coast-to-coast on the theme, “Every Kid a Winner!” etc.

Nothing I’ve ever done is more exciting than “Pat-the-Baby.” Nothing holds more promise for positively impacting untold thousands of children and their families, and nothing is simpler than “Pat-the-Baby.” It doesn’t cost a cent, and to access it, just click:

http://www.tinyurl.com/PatTheBabyNow

If it fails when you click on it, simply cut and paste.

Get ready for a fun experience that, for many, will be life changing. If kids count to you, you’ll love it.

Remember: it’s free–but invaluable!

–Dale

If you have questions, email me at Dale@TheFamilyMinute.com. Poke around while you’re here at www.theFamilyMinute.com and look over some of our archives related to family. Needless to say, family is high priority here! We hope to have more and more helpful content, so visit often.

I stop for minimum bathroom chores—after I’ve taken PowderPuff out. Then I boot up the computer and let flow. You might prefer to grab pen and paper.  Here are some suggestions:

• Do, indeed, just let flow…don’t try to prioritize or edit as you go along.
• Don’t go over yesterday’s list before you start today’s list. This is a new day!
• Don’t feel guilty if the first items aren’t about God, family, country and income taxes!
• Make a numbered list. Not mandatory, but probably would help
• Don’t try to make complete sentences. Just get the concept down.
• As you write a gratitude thought, let yourself glow—feel good!
• Don’t feel you must have a comprehensive list, just go/stop as you choose- no pressure!

Perhaps having an example will make it easier for you to get underway. Here’s how I started my list today [The first line is one I keep in place]. Oh, yes, I confess that I did a tad of editing, otherwise some of the thoughts would have been incomplete to you and wouldn’t have made sense. Some won’t really, anyway, as they relate to personal matters you don’t know about. Here goes:

May 28, 2010   “This is the day which the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Random thoughts about things I’m happy about as I begin this day:

1. It’s good to be so alive and alert at 5:10—after PowderPuff got me up at 4:30.
2. Mary Jo and I sleep amazingly well and are so full restored by it.
3. Tracie and Mara are doing so wonderfully. What a beautiful baby!
4. Happy we could babysit Annabelle & Mosie while Rich & Amy were haying
5. Glad they got the hay in before it got rained on.
6. This precious puppy sleeping under my chair!
7. That we have neighbors like Terry & Laura
8. Bonnie & Ron are so thoughtful and supportive
9. So good to be making contact with so many people through Facebook.
10. ETC…
11. Ahhhh! for a good cup of fresh coffee–think I go make one!

Try this for a few weeks and let me know how it works for you. I have no doubt, if you try it consistently for a few days, you’ll find it makes a wonderful difference.

Have a grateful day!

–Dale

This whole site totally vanished! It was gone without warning and left no clues as to why, how, or where to. No one could find it. Not even my ISP–though they finally located its folder, which they said was empty.  They had no clue as to what caused it to happen. And they couldn’t do a thing about it.  Talk about frustrating–this was it!

I’m about as technically gifted as the smallest of the beagle-basset-huskie (Bebasskie)  pups out in our kennel! I had no clue as to what to do. I was sick about it. Then a dear “Twitterfriend” decided to take on the “Mission Impossible” challenge (yeah, I know that dates me)–and she found the site but it was inaccessible. It was as though it was in the bottom of a barrel and covered by layers of trash. One by one she removed the bits of debris until, finally, Whoosh! It popped to the surface and right back into place! So here we are again!  I hope I’ll be able to post regularly and that you’ll drop in often so we can share ideas about building wonder-full families that are happy havens (at least most of the time) for all family members.

We can grow. We can improve. We can make a difference! And we want to!

Those are some of the premises of this site.  Most people definitely want to do a better job of being parents, grandparents, teachers, scout leaders, etc. We want to have a positive influence on the lives of children.  That’s what this site is all about. Little things can make a big difference.

Read the story of a man who did grow, improve, and make a difference–what a difference! See the article below: “Want to be adored? He was.”

We love being in touch, so…

1. If you’re on Facebook, “friend” me there. I’m Philip Dale Smith on Facebook. I’ll confirm that we’re friends.
2. If you tweet on Twitter, I’m there as GrandpaDale. Follow me and I’ll follow you back.
3. If you haven’t seen the video of me and “the little redhead” in a brief discussion re: communication with a baby and the awesomeness of a baby’s mind, see that screen down to your right?  Click on the triangle in the middle and join us. If your computer is “up to speed” it will be smooth–otherwise may be a bit jerky.
4. You, and your friends, can also see it on YouTube by clicking on this link: http://tinyurl.com/99m69h.  While you’re there you can click “subscribe” and you’ll automatically get word of when the next video is up. It’s free!  If you check back here regularly you’ll catch new videos as the are posted.
5. Did you sign up for our free occasional newsletter? As a bonus, you’ll get our daughter Lisa’s story  (you’ll love it!) of making Thimble Biscuits with my mother, the famous “Ma” who inspired the character “Hattie” in our novels, including the award-winning  Turn Back Time. See the form up to the right? Fill that out and you’ll get the story–and two recipes, so you can make thimble biscuits with children you love! What fun! Okay, it can be a mess, too–but a wonderful, fun mess!

This site is going to be a very special one with lots of valuable insights, tools and techniques to help big people equip little people to reach their full God-given potential!

Keep checking in here. And send me notes about things of interest to those of us who place a high value on children and families. Tell me some topics you’d like us to discuss on this blog–or on teleseminars we hope to schedule in the future. Or just to tell me you love me no matter what! .   For now, to communicate with me, use smithdale2@aol.com or leave comments below.

We have some good news we’ll get to share with you soon. In the meantime, be looking forward to a free five-lesson eCourse about the wonderful benefits of reading together as a family. It should be ready soon.

For now, have an abundant and joyous day!

Philip Dale Smith (mostly known as Dale or GrandpaDale)

P.S. Be sure to read the posts below.

It took only five words…

If my dad spoke those five words at the beginning of a sentence, they worked wonders! They grabbed my attention and snatched me back from wherever my little-boy mind had wandered. They riveted my attention on Dad.      I was ready.

“Did I ever tell you….” That  phrase was the preamble to adventure. Television was a thing of the future and our family had no radio. But soon we might be in the jungles of the Philippines cowering in fear with Dad and other young recruits listening, dry-mouthed, to rhythmic war-beat of tom-toms getting closer and closer—tom-toms, the drums of savage cannibals, according to the old sergeant. Or we might be enjoying breakfast at a street cafe in Paris. Or awed by smoke and smell and sound of colorful life-size parade-dragons weaving their way through the streets of Tokyo. Or we might be frantically scrambling through underbrush in Borneo with fierce headhunters closing in. Or setting dangerous explosives deep underground in the vein of Number 9 coal in Muhlenberg County, KY; “That’s how Jeb Matheney lost the thumb and forefinger on his right hand, you know.”

“Did I ever tell you…” and its counterpart, “Once upon a time…”: are signals that it’s story time, a time of remembering. The “mem” in “remember” and the “mem” in “memorial” carry the suggestion of something or someone who made a difference—who contributed parts of the mosaic or tapestry of our lives.

When Alex Haley wrote Roots, he struck a responsive chord that continues to reverberate. We all yearn to know our story: who we are, who they, our ancestors, were, and what we’ll find when we follow our roots. Stories reveal the tale—the tales, I should say.

Memorial Day is a time for remembering…a time of stories. We’ve almost forgotten that. I’ll remember, in particular, my brother, Reg, (the “Jackie” of our novels): His service in WW II, his being missing in action (He was in a German prison camp), his Purple Heart, his three years in the hospital after the war. And the good times afterward.

I’ll remember Dad (the “Smith Delaney” of our novels): his time as a teen soldier in the occupation forces in the Philippines after the Spanish American War; his time in Europe in WWI, the rascal he was and the gentleman he became after he met my mother (to-be).

I’ll recall my children’s great-great grandfathers’ service during the Civil War—at least one for the Confederacy and two for the Union. And I’ll remember the mothers (my Mom, of course) and wives and the sweethearts (Reg’s Jo) who stayed behind.

But our memories aren’t just of the military actions of our forebears. Let’s remember those ancestors’ trips over the mountains or down the rivers. Let’s remember their hard times and good. Let’s remember how they laid the foundations our lives are built on.

Visit their graves, if you can. Those memorial stones mark the final resting place of real people who once felt the joys and heartaches of life much as we do. Be thankful for each bit of good they bequeathed and forgive their failures.

Learn their stories. Write them down. Share them with the children who will be your bridge to generations to come. The stories help us know who we are, and may well give insights into why we are what we are. For example, it’s easy to trace my love of nature, of people, of my faith, and of stories. No doubt it’s easy to follow paths that suggest why you are who you are, too. And how I love it when I get a peek into a secret closet of the past and see a garment that I now wear.

I’ll write more about stories and storytelling in future posts on my blog, http://theFamilyMinute.com Be sure to visit there regularly.

– Philip Dale Smith (GrandpaDale)

PS We’ll discuss how you can make the most of storytelling to enrich family life and bond family members.

]]> http://thefamilyminute.com/it-only-took-five-words/feed/ 0 http://thefamilyminute.com/kids-look-at-the-world-with-fresh-eyes/ http://thefamilyminute.com/kids-look-at-the-world-with-fresh-eyes/#comments Wed, 20 May 2009 15:45:14 +0000 smithdale2 http://thefamilyminute.com/?p=146 Alexander Graham Bell is said to have commented, “I love to talk with children. They look at the world with fresh eyes.” The following selection certainly demonstrates that they do. They not only have “fresh eyes,” they combine acute interest in what is going on around them with their limited experience and understanding–with the result being some definitely interesting observations!

I don’t know who compiled this group of answers by children regarding mothers, but I’m sure glad they recorded them for us. Enjoy!

WHY GOD MADE MOMS Answers by 2nd grade children to the following questions about mothers:

Why did God make mothers?

1.  She’s the only one who knows where the scotch tape is.

2.  Mostly to clean the house.

3.  To help us out of there when we were getting born.

How did God make mothers?

1.  He used dirt, just like for the rest of us.

2.  Magic plus super powers and a lot of stirring.

3.  God made my mom just the same like he made me.  He just used bigger parts.

What ingredients are mothers made of?

1.  God makes mothers out of clouds & angel hair & everything nice in the world & one dab of mean.

2.  They had to get their start from men’s bones.  Then they mostly use string, I think.

Why did God give you your mother and not some other mom?

1.  We’re related.

2.  God knew she likes me a lot more than other people’s mom like me.

What kind of a little girl was your mom?

1.  My mom has always been my mom and none of that other stuff.

2.  I don’t know because I wasn’t there, but my guess would be pretty bossy.

3.  They say she used to be nice.

What did mom need to know about dad before she married him?

1.  His last name.

2.  She had to know his background.  Like is he a crook?  Does he get drunk on beer?

3.  Does he make at least $800 a year?  Did he say NO to drugs and YES to chores?

Why did your mom marry your dad?

1.  My dad makes the best spaghetti in the world.  And my mom eats a lot

2.  She got too old to do anything else with him.

3.  My grandma says that mom didn’t have her thinking cap on.

Who’s the boss at your house?

1.  Mom doesn’t want to be boss, but she has to because dad’s such a goof ball.

2. Mom.  You can tell by room inspection.  She sees the stuff under the bed.

3.  I guess mom is, but only because she has a lot more to do than dad.

000000;">What’s the difference between moms and dads?

1.  Moms work at work and work at home and dads just go to work at work.

2.  Moms know how to talk to teachers without scaring them.

3.  Dads are taller and stronger, but moms have all the real power ’cause that’s who you got to ask if you want to sleep over at your friends.

4.  Moms have magic, they make you feel better without medicine.

What does your mom do in her spare time?

1.  Mothers don’t do spare time.

2.  To hear her tell it, she pays bills all day long.

What would it take to make your mom perfect?

1.  On the inside she’s already perfect.  Outside, I think some kind of plastic surgery.

2.  Diet.  You know, her hair.  I’d diet, maybe blue.

000000;"> If you could change one thing about your mom, what would it be?

1.  She has this weird thing about me keeping my room clean.  I’d get rid of that.

2.  I’d make my mom smarter.  Then she would know it was my sister who did it not me.

400040;">3.  I would like for her to get rid of those invisible eyes on the back of her head.

<<<<<<<<>>>>>>

There you have it: Insights about mothers that I’ll bet you wouldn’t have thought of.  If you know who wrote it, let me know.

Talk to you kids. Ask them questions. And by all means listen without over- reacting. You may be awed (shocked?) by what you’ll learn. –GrandpaDale

400040;">

PA
By Debby Rhoads Eason

Pa has always been old.  In fact, the first memory I have of him is his uneven limping gait as we walked to the store when I was three.  Afraid he would leave without me, I clung to his pant’s leg, straining against the grip of my grandmother as she swept back my hair in a ponytail.  On our journey, I held his pointing finger, feeling the rough warts as my arm jerked up and down with the unevenness of his walk.  He limped because he had been in a mine accident years before.  His broken leg had not healed correctly, so he had special shoes with one heel built up high, making him walk with his torso forward, looking as if he might fall.

I don’t remember what his voice sounded like.  Pa could talk then, but somehow the sound of his voice has been replaces by the ever-present buzz of his talker as it vibrates against his throat.  The year I was four he had an operation for cancer of the throat and has been buzzing us ever since.  Pa’s talker has been a familiar object to all of his grandchildren and great grandchildren.  The thrill of being able to push the button and feel the tingle has been his connection across the lines of communication with all the children.  We could understand his metallic voice better than most adults.  It never seemed strange to see the pulsation of the hole in his throat, or to see him hold the Kleenex to his neck, instead of his mouth, when he coughs.  He was just Pa.

Each year my cousin, Sandy, and I spent a week with Ma and Pa.  We could always hear his thumping approach as we giggled in bed, watching the designs the fire and grate of the pot bellied stove cast upon the ceiling.  The days were filled with Pa.  He and his ever-faithful beagle, Dick, went squirrel hunting almost every day.  (Dick was always Dick even though the dogs changed over the years.)  My cousin and I remained behind, climbing atop a washhouse Pa helped build when he was seventy-two.  We sang and played and listened for his return.

Some days he would go to town to join the “Idler’s Club” and swap pocket knives.  He didn’t seem to care if he had a good swap or not.  The days he stayed home, he would entertain us with stories about France during World War I.  His memory is so vivid that he even remembers the two French words a friend spoke in a restaurant, oeuf and jambon.  He loved to talk about his adventures.

He is eighty-seven now, but his appearance has changed little over the years.  He wears his shirt collar open so that he can breathe through the hole in his throat.  His clothes hang on him.  He cinches his belt tight, and his pants gather around his waist.  His short white hair recedes further each year.  The biggest change of appearance has been his nose.  His face was badly cut in an auto accident, and from the mass of stitches covering his face, emerged a small pointed nose to replace the monster that was there before.  He uses a cane now and has difficulty managing stairs.

The kinship between Pa and me has grown even greater in the last few years.  I always enjoy being with him even when he declares that Republicans are terrific, and chooses Kentucky basketball over Tennessee cagers.  We snicker behind Ma’s back because he has doctor’s orders to take a little whiskey everyday for his circulation.  He doesn’t trade knives anymore but we barter together.  Two years ago he planted four rows of sweet potatoes—my favorite.  He pulled me to the garden to choose a row and declared I would have each potato in the row.  In return, I never fail to bring him a tin of King Leo Peppermint stick candy each time I visit.  The same finger I clung to at three is the one that greets me every visit.  He hooks it around my finger for a special handshake.

Pa and I are an example of the special feeling that so often springs up between the young and the very old.  Both have the ability to accept one another, warts and all–  the young because of innocence,  the old because of wisdom. –D.R.E.
<<<<<<<<<<<~~>>>>>>>>>>

Debby’s Pa, my dad, died the year after she wrote this story. But he left the little girl she had been and the woman she became with a head and heart full of life-enriching memories. I suggested in the preface to this story that there were a couple of words in the story that may have been the genesis of Debby’s career. The words? Oeuf and jambon–the menu words Pa had picked up in Paris in WW I. Debby became an outstanding teacher of the French language and escorted student groups to France. Was that a goal of her grandad? No, his goal was to pour his love in the hearts of his little grandchildren. That he did–and they responded. That’s what happens where love lives. –PDS

Dad could have been talking about stocks and bonds. But he wasn’t. He could have been talking about how to get interested in the St. Louis Cardinals playing the Boston Red Sox in the 1946 World Series.

But he wasn’t. He was talking about the general principle. And family. Mostly he was talking about family. It relates to you. And me.

Almost too late, Dad began investing in family. For almost forty years he had squandered life on other things.

Often he invested in empty things–foolish things. Then he met my mother-to-be. That attractive little widow flipped his investment strategy upside down! He spent the next few months, then the last forty-six years of his life in high-interest investing. Not money (he had little), but his heart, his time, his energy, went into family. Four generations adored him. Later generations regret that they missed him.

This site, TheFamilyMinute.com, is about making the most of family. I’ll post thoughts about reading aloud to children, storytelling, playing together, making “thimble biscuits,” building family traditions–all kinds of little investments, and large ones. They accrue massive compound interest and build memories for a lifetime. We’ll watch my mother and dad work their family-blending wonders. And I’ll share nuggets from my half-century-plus of work with children and families. Some of you will give helpful insights.

Not much will come from Child Psychology 302, Developmental Psychology 202-or other such classes I took back in the 1950s. We’ll talk about down-to-earth, put-to-work-now ideas and activities. You’re going to love them! Some of my posts will be audios or videos. Some will be text. And we’ll have guest messages. All, I promise, will enrich your life.

So this blog is for people who are passionate about family–or want to be. If you don’t give a hoot about family, it’s not for you. But if you’re ready to make a difference for generations to come, we’re in for a delightful and enriching journey.

TheFamilyMinute.com is for those you love, too. I’d be elated to have you call, write, email, or otherwise get in touch with them and invite them to join us at www.theFamilyMinute.com. And please do let me hear from you. –Grandpa Dale

“Daddy, did Pa really shoot up the poolroom at Beech Creek?”

Lisa asked me that when she was perhaps 13 years old. 

“Yep. Sure did,” was my reply.

A few years later: “Daddy, did Pa really shoot the Muhlenberg County Sheriff off a ladder?”

My response: “Yep, he sure did!”

I told the truth.

A couple of decades passed and Lisa, by then a published and recorded song writer, wrote a song about her Pa: “Gentle Heart, Gentle Soul, Gentle Man.” You’ll see it soon.

Hard to believe, but what she wrote in that song was true. He was a gentle heart, gentle soul, and gentle man!

In the decade after the song came out, “Pa” became the inspiration basis for the male protagonist in Lisa’s historical fiction novel, Turn Back Time, which won the national Benjamin Franklin Award for fiction and became a featured Doubleday book club offering. (BTW, I coauthored it). In it, and its sequel, Sunshine & Shadow, he was a good guy–mostly.

Debby, another of Pa’s granddaughters, a school teacher, wrote the essay, “Pa.” In it she tells of the delightful relationship she and another granddaughter had with him. She describes what he was and what he did that made those little girls adoring fans.

They couldn’t have imagined that he was the man who shot up the pool room and shot the sheriff off the ladder. Knowing how he honored “Ma,” his wife, they couldn’t have conceived that there was a time when his best friends hoped no woman would be so foolish as to marry this “fast-fisted, short-fused, bad-news bachelor.”

But let’s go back and glimpse the story behind the story.

“A man can change, cain’t he?” John Orville Smith asked his cousin, Maude. He was back from carousing around the country and wanted to get to know her friend, the “young widow Rhoads.” His question was a plea in response to Maude’s unwillingness to cooperate.

“Yes, Orville,” Maude replied, “a man can change. But you ain’t likely to.”  She refused to introduce him to the genteel and highly respected young widow with two small children.

But she relented.

The man who became my dad spent the next half-century proving that, yes, a man can change. And can become the adored patriarch of a passel of children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and their spouses.

So the premise of this blog is that  a man (woman, and child) can change, can improve, can make a difference. Fortunately we won’t likely have make changes of the magnitude that “Pa” did. We can make little differences as we adjust, tweak, and upgrade our attitudes, skills and behavior. As we do, marvelous benefits will accrue in our lives and in the lives of our loved ones. Perhaps for generations to come. 

Now, I’m honored to include his nickname in mine. He was my dad and was “Pa” to following generations. Now I’m “GrandpaDale.” If only I could be as “Grand.”

I’ll try. 

–GPD