Please Stop Telling Your Kids to Have a Plan B
There’s a difference between being practical and killing dreams
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My father gave me two pieces of advice when I was very young. First, never dig a pile of dirt from the middle. (Shovel at the bottom, so the dirt falls into the blade.) And second, always live in a ranch-style home. (So you can still get around all of it when you’re old).
I was not raised by my father. My parents divorced when I was an infant, leaving my mother to raise four sons by herself. That’s why his advice didn’t involve anything time-consuming or with multiple steps, like how to shave or barbecue ribs. What I gleaned from him I had to get during random and sparse weekend visits, and after a certain age, even those became largely unnecessary. But we had the relationship we had; it was not an unpleasant one, and twice he had a useful piece of advice to offer.
In short, I’m not the product of fatherly advice. I don’t have a list of aphorisms handed down, father to son, that has guided me through life, save for the parts where dirt and real estate were involved. Who I am comes largely from trial and error, being thrown in various fires or deep ends, and matriarchal…