Disinformation is most effective in a very narrow context. – Frank Snepp

When I think of how we communicate and find information now, as opposed to just a few years ago, it sets my head to spinning.

Texting on a phone barely leaves room for a complete thought. The same can be said of services like Twitter with its 140 character limit. While I kind of like the idea of learning to get a point across in as few words as possible the truth of the matter is, a conversation online may span days or weeks and a handful of messages amid other conversations and other messages. The context is easily lost.

Goodness knows many adults have a problem keeping and placing comments and conversations, whether online or off, in the proper context. So the question for the parent becomes, “How and when do I teach my child the value of context in day to day conversations?”

My oldest kids are 18 and 14. The 18 year old does a pretty good job of getting the full context before reacting or making a decision based upon something he heard or read. The 14 year old is a different story. She lives in a world filled with text messages and abbreviated facebook conversations.  I believe the notion of getting the full context is just too much work for her if it requires scrolling beyond a few screens. It’s probably important to point out that she does understand context. She just doesn’t seek it. Hopefully she will realize the benefit of the seeking part before it bites her. However, she is a teen and they like to learn through mistakes it seems, at least I did.

In addition to the two teenagers I also have three younger kids, all girls and all under the age of 5. The 3 and 4 year old speak and communicate very well. The seven month old just wonders why no one else speaks her language. We do teach the idea of context to the 3 and 4 years old, explaining it as “the whole story”. I think they get it. They understand when they come to their mother or I with a complaint or need we often ask the why or how questions rather than just handing out some punishment or object of their desire. This comes at a cost though and is where I think the value of context can be tarnished.

When you teach a young child the value of telling or seeking the whole story they actually get in the habit of doing this. Even when you may be too tired to hear it, or too tired to answer it, or too preoccupied to entertain it. They bring the story or questions with them. Every. Single. Time. How we react to this when we just haven’t got it in us is a pretty big deal. I’ve found the best thing is to just be honest about it and tell them you need 15 minutes, or you’ll get to the bottom of it tomorrow or some such thing. I’m hoping that if we can stick with this practice and set the proper example now the shift to defining and seeking context in their online world will not be the struggle or after-thought it is for many people today.

Just don’t cast their inquiries and investigative nature aside, or leave them with the impression that context isn’t important. It is important, and they should know it.

The tree had been dead for quite some time I imagine. Maybe longer than the five years we’ve lived in this house. Its trunk decayed to the point where I may have simply stomped the remains into the ground.

Life has been interesting lately. Troubling. Worrisome. The uncertainty of the United States economy is largely to blame as is the state of war and prosecution. This evening I made a run to the local ice cream spot to pick up a couple of banana splits for the girls, their mother and I to share. I had NPR on the radio and as I made the five minute trip back home the story being relayed was of a village in the Congo that had all but six members of their community murdered. Viciously murdered. The women and girls had been raped and killed and the men and boys were forced into a kneeling position with their head on the ground as their attackers kicked in their skulls to the point their brains were spilling onto the ground. In the bushes one of the six survivors watched, unable to take his eyes from the scene as these events were unleashed upon his family. His elders. His wife. His children.

It wasn’t a small tree but not too big either. Its circumference likely in the sixteen to eighteen inch neighborhood. I found myself glancing at it occasionally as I moved through the woods alongside our property collecting limbs and other branches that had fallen through the course of the winter. My plan is to create some paths in these woods for the girls to have their nature walks as soon as the days are warmer longer. First things first, all these fallen branches and trees would have to be cleared away.

The weeks of late have been ridiculously long in the office. The position I’m in requires me to see each and every termination request issued throughout the company. There have been so many. I know the times have dictated much of this, or rather brought it to light. I like to think we, those employed by companies in the United States, will come out of this stronger. As individuals we may take less for granted. We might learn again those principles that our parents and grandparents knew. That an honest days work should equal an honest days pay. That skating through a job and never adding any value means you won’t last long. That running lean is more than the result of a gym membership.

This wooded area is largely cleared now. Several mounds of dead wood the evidence of the time spent clearing this small section of land. If I had to guess I’d say this cleared area is some 50 yards long by 30 yards wide. It’s a small start but a start nonetheless. All that remains in this space is that one big tree. As I mentioned, I could likely stomp it into the ground. Turn it all into mulch and be done with it. I just can’t bring myself to do it. I think it’s the resulting noise that’s so unappealing. Instead I plan on picking up as much as I can. Hoping to keep it in one piece and place it atop the closest pile.

We, my wife and I, do as much as we can to shield our children from the concerns that surround us. The small children that is. For the older two the concerns are theirs just as much as they are ours. With one entering college in the fall and the other high school, they are very aware of where we are as a nation. We talk about what things may look like when the worst is behind us and how important it is for us learn from this. We discuss how living within ones means does not have to mean living without. We are careful to weigh with them the wants of the world versus the needs of the individual. The needs of our family.

Getting underneath the tree was the difficult part. It required rolling it back and forth a few times until I could find a place close to the middle that wasn’t so tender it would collapse upon lifting. I bent my knees and worked my hands underneath the tree, feeling the cold wet leaves and dirt work between my fingers. While I slowly stood, measuring with my arms the weight of the tree on either side, I heard the patio door slide open.

The tree was a little heavier than I thought though not more than I could handle. As I began walking toward one of my man made monoliths of slight proportions I could hear the footsteps of a quickly approaching child. This was shortly followed by the sweet sound of a four year old girl exclaiming, “Daddy! You are the strongest Dad ever!”.

I smiled. In this moment I believed it. I was the strongest Dad ever.

God bless perspective.