Growing Up Feeding the Youth In Asia?

By Jim Pfiffer

When I was a kid, my parents often gave us advice and information that didn’t make sense.

Most of their wisdom arrived as a loud announcement from the kitchen, the porch or the front seat of the car, without looking back. It followed a simple three-step system: yell, point, repeat. It was a blend of fear, sarcasm and Olympic-level confusion.

Mom and Dad tried to explain their irrational advice by adding, “You’ll understand when you’re older,” or “You’ll get it when you have kids.”

Well, I’m an older Boomer with kids, but I still don’t understand why I had to eat all my dinner to help starving kids in China.

That was the logic my parents used to get my seven sibs and me to empty our Melmac dinner plates.

“Jim, quit playing with your food and eat your (insert punishment disguised as food). There are millions of kids starving in China,” was standard dinner table parental reasoning.

So, we ate our Brussels sprouts, eggplant, cottage cheese, liver, and other items that should only be used to get terrorists to confess, and cleaned our plates. But I never figured out how our full bellies of icky food helped nourish all those starving Asians.

Another foolish admonishment regarded leaping from bridges.

When I would do something stupid or dangerous (which was often enough to qualify as a hobby), my parents would inquire, “What the hell is wrong with you. Why would you do something so stupid?

My desperate defense: “Cuz all the other kids were doing it.”

The ‘rents would counter, for the umpteenth time, with, “If all the other kids jumped off a bridge, would you?”

I always wanted to reply, “YES, I WOULD jump off a bridge so that you will stop asking me that $#&$! stupid question.” 

But I didn’t. 

I wasn’t THAT stupid. 

Their guidance may have been illogical, but it was also industrial, abrasive and built Ford Tough – sandpaper for the soul.

Here are some illogical gems that shaped us: 

“DON’T COME RUNNING TO ME WHEN YOU FALL AND BREAK A LEG.” The idiocy of this warning and insurance disclaimer is self-evident. 

“IF YOU DON’T STOP CRYING, I’LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT.” We didn’t argue that incongruous pearl, or we would have had another reason to cry.

“STRANGER DANGER” Didn’t worry us. No stranger wanted to deal with eight Pfiffer delinquents who traveled in wolf packs.

“YOU’LL PUT SOMEONE’S EYE OUT.” This applied to everything: sticks, lawn Jarts, baseballs, rocks, spoons, snowballs, BB guns and our own fingers. I’m surprised my sibs and I didn’t end up blind or wearing pirate eye patches. Arrrrrrrrr! 

“GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY.” Translation: I love you, but if you don’t stop making all that noise and get out of my sight, I’m going to lose it. 

“JAMES MICHAEL PFIFFER! UNTIE YOUR LITTLE SISTER FROM THE CAR TOP CARRIER THIS INSTANT, AND LET HER IN THE BACKSEAT WITH YOU.” Apparently, little sister roof surfing violated vehicle and traffic codes.

“KNOCK IT OFF!” Short. Terrifying. Effective.

“NOBODY SAID LIFE WAS GOING TO BE FAIR.” So be it. But could you at least give us the owner’s manual? 

“KEEP MAKING FACES AND YOUR FACE WILL FREEZE LIKE THAT.” So, that explains the confused expression I’ve displayed all this time. 

“DON’T MAKE ME COME IN THERE.” We didn’t. 

“TV WILL ROT YOUR BRAINS.” As if the dinner food had not already begun the rotting.

“IF YOU DON’T STOP, I’M TURNING THIS CAR AROUND.” Never happened. Our station wagon, a Chrysler Town & Country, was the size of Asia and couldn’t be turned without the help of traffic cops, orange cones and civil engineers.

“YOU’LL LIVE.” Our parents’ Hippocratic Oath and a shortened version of “Stop being such a wuss. Walk it off. Stop crying.”

“BECAUSE I SAID SO!” The nuclear option. The final, last-ditch, final, be-all-and-end-all retort. The argument was done. We had no comeback. If we tried, we’d have something to cry about. 

“YOU’LL THANK ME SOMEDAY.” This covered everything from homemade haircuts and embarrassing questions to our friends, Mom dressing us funny, and all the other things we didn’t understand or hated.

Our parental advice may have been questionable, contained threats or sounded like threats – but it scared the hell out of us and helped us grow up resourceful, resilient, independent and realizing that life isn’t always fair. 

No matter the style of advice, all kids from every generation eventually learn the same thing: their parents are just winging it.

Either way, the kids will do just fine.

It’s the parents who need help.

Get more of Jim Pfiffer’s columns at his “Full of Wit” blog https://fullofwitblog.wordpress.com/. Learn more about illustrator Filomena Jack at www.FilomenaJackStudio.com.