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Some years ago I passed an heirloom on to my then-12-year-old son: a 1910
vintage, .22-calibre rifle. It was my grandfather’s, then my father’s, then
mine. And now it is Joe’s.
To be honest, I had only fired the gun a few times. I wasn’t even sure if
it still worked when I passed it on to Joe. It mostly had meaning as a
keepsake, a rustic symbol binding four generations of Walkers with more
sentiment than a hunk of metal and wood ought to inspire.
In passing the gun on to Joe, I talked to him about family heritage and
tradition. I also briefed him on gun safety and tried to impress upon him
the importance of care with an instrument that could potentially destroy,
maim and even kill.
As I did so, however, I’m afraid I violated all of the rules of
politically correct parenting. I spoke in absolutes ("Never point a gun at
someone"). I spouted homilies ("Treat every gun as if it was loaded"). I
attempted to instill within Joe my personal sense of values and priorities
("As long as we can afford to buy meat there’s no need to shoot at another
living creature").
I now realize how "incorrect" I was. According to conventional wisdom, I
should have been talking about safe shooting ("If you insist on shooting at
someone, at least make sure you’re shooting blanks"), responsible shooting
("It’s OK to take an occasional pot shot – as long as you do it in
moderation") and the possible long-term consequences of shooting ("Just
don’t come running to me if you blow your head off!").
At least, that’s the impression I get from hearing people – politically
correct people – talk about other issues that are threatening the health and
safety of young people today. Teenagers are going to have sex, they say, so
we need to teach "safe sex" to avoid disease and pregnancy. And they’re
going to quaff on occasional beer, so let’s talk about "responsible"
drinking. And if they’re going to experiment with drugs … well, there’s
nothing we can do about that. But we can make sure they do it with full
knowledge of what they’re getting themselves into.
Few people are willing to tell teenagers "no" these days – unless it’s
the politically correct thing to do. For example, it’s OK to teach them to
say "no" to aerosol hairsprays because of the possible impact on global
warming. But for some reason it’s unrealistic to expect teenagers to say
"no" to sex, no matter what it does to them physically, emotionally or
spiritually. Or you can talk about saying "no" to meth, but if a young man
gets plastered on beer, the granddaddy of all gateway drugs . . . well, boys
will be boys. And for some reason that is completely beyond me, it’s OK to
say "no" to obscure chemical additives that cause hangnails in one of 53
million laboratory rats, but not to cigarettes, a proven killer of millions
of humans.
What’s wrong with "wrong"? We seem to be able to agree that it’s wrong to
kill or steal or litter the highways. But beyond that, "wrong" is debatable.
And I don’t understand why. While it’s true that our values and priorities
may differ, can’t we all agree that it would be better if teens don’t enter
adulthood enslaved by addiction to drugs, alcohol, sex or the headlong
pursuit of pleasure? And can’t we all see the advantage of a generation
raised to value self-control over self-indulgence, where "do your own thing"
is replaced by "do the right thing"?
Yeah, I know – "right" has become relative, too. But sooner or later
we’re going to have to take stand, and as a father I prefer to take my stand
now, while I’m still teaching my children, rather than to have to make a
stand against the consequences of their experimental choices. Such
values-oriented teaching may not prevent our young people from making bad
decisions. But it will provide more security and balance in a world that is
frighteningly short of both qualities.
Even if it is long on political correctness.
© 2007 Joseph Walker
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