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Listen to Monty’s story as you read it (below).
Monty, whose life had been a symphony of brass and woodwinds, found himself utterly bewildered by the cacophony of modern childhood.
Retirement had afforded him ample time with his grandchildren, especially when they were little. But now they were in their pre-teen years, and things were different. Lily always seemed to be distracted by the frenetic whirlwind of TikTok, and Finn, a brooding, introspective soul, was frequently lost in the digital abyss of his phone.
Monty, armed with a lifetime of patient instruction and gentle guidance as a high school band director and social studies teacher, felt woefully unprepared for communicating with the pair. Gone were the days of building elaborate birdhouses, teaching the intricacies of hopscotch, or narrating fantastical bedtime stories. Now, his attempts at connection were met with glazed eyes and dismissive sighs.
"Grandpa, that’s so ‘boomer’," Lily declared one afternoon, her brow furrowed in exasperation as he tried to explain the joy of playing board games. "No one plays Monopoly anymore. It's, like, ‘geriatric’."
“What’s ‘boomer’? What do you mean ‘geriatric’?”
“You know – old,” Lily replied weakly.
Monty, stung by her words, retreated to the porch, the scent of freshly cut grass a poor substitute for the vibrant melodies that once filled his days.
He watched Lily and Finn, mesmerized by the glowing screens in their hands, their faces illuminated by an eerie, ethereal light. He yearned to bridge the gap – to share the magic of his own childhood, the thrill of exploring the woods, the satisfaction of building a sandcastle that defied the tide, the hope and heartache of the 1950s and ‘60s.
Discouraged, Monty almost gave up. But then he remembered a fellow band director used to tell him: "Music has the power to transcend generations," the director had said, his eyes twinkling. "Find the melody – and words – that speak to their souls."
So, Monty decided to try a different approach. Rummaging in his attic, he finally found his guitar. He thought it would be less intimidating than his beloved trombone.
A man of eclectic musical tastes, Monty introduced his grandchildren to the folk legend, Pete Seeger. He stumbled upon the refrain from Seeger’s "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?"
"When will we ever learn? When will we ever learn?"
Lily, intrigued by the haunting melody, asked, "Grandpa, what do those words mean?"
Monty, eager to explain to his grandchildren, said, "It's about the importance of peace and understanding. Seeger was asking why we keep fighting wars instead of working together."
Finn, still a bit distracted by his phone, glanced up. "That's ‘bussin,’ actually,” he admitted.
“Bussin?”
“Yes, amazing,” Finn quickly clarified.
Monty, encouraged by their interest, decided to sing another song, "Turn, Turn, Turn." He sang the chorus with gusto: "There is a season: turn, turn, turn ..."
It reminded him of the time when hope and despair were reflected in the headlines about budding inclusion and unending conflict during his young adult years.
And he noticed the lyrics were resonating with Lily and Finn. Maybe he was not the only one who was not intrigued by stagecraft and not comprehending the lyrics of current fast-paced pop songs.
Monty, watching his grandchildren sing along with at least some interest, knew that he had just maybe found a way to connect with them on some level – through simple, catchy (but meaningful) lyrics.
Also hear and read Monty’s “parent story” from 2024
Go to “Rose’s Solid Sidekick.”
Age: Our Greatest Asset!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “52 Shades of Graying”
Sharing our Insights Each Week as We Discover New Shades of Aging
Accolade: “Love reading your stories. You never disappoint.” - Mary K.
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I remember being impressed by how well my new sister-in-law, Cindy, who was in her early 20s at the time, related so well with my 70-ish grandmother Pfaff during the late 1960s and early ‘70s.
Grandma Pfaff never went to high school but knew how to manage a household, which included my grandpa, who was a blacksmith, three rambunctious boys and my mother.
She also knew how to quilt, and Cindy absorbed all that Grandma Pfaff could teach her about quilting – a skill she didn’t pick up in college.
Today, Cindy can look back on a 45-year career in quilting as an entrepreneur who works out of her home, often in a time crunch to fill backorders from customers throughout southern Wisconsin.
* When have you seen younger and older generations truly connect with each other?