Amy Adams was in Julie & Julia with Meryl Streep who was in The River Wild with Kevin Bacon. 2 degrees of Kevin Bacon. And who is Amy Adams but another Douglas County, Colorado girl who made her mark, who graduated from high school just down the road (and then was nominated for 5 Academy Awards). As you watch Enchanted, my daughters, be assured that dreams do come true, but sometimes the story takes a couple drafts.
Sitting in a comfortable after-dinner food coma, my husband and brother and I were talking about the ways of the world, as one does. Did you know, and this is a real statistic, that between 60-80 percent of jobs are gained through connections? At our table, in our current jobs? 66% of us had a connection working for us. My husband’s industry is a little smaller, and while he got his current job the traditional way – a Craigslist ad – his industry reputation could be verified within one degree of separation because, as anyone can tell you, it’s all about who you know. And yet, even with such daunting odds, only 30% of us, according to a Gallup poll, would actively claim to like our jobs, leaving 70% of American workers on the spectrum from “disengaged,” all the way to “dislike.”
Personally, there are a lot of aspects of my job that I appreciate, but as a parent, this seems like pretty heavy stuff. My daughters are bright and funny and wonderfully and endearingly idealistic. I wish they could live in that realm forever. I want my daughters not just to know that they can do what they want, but to believe in it. I don’t want to say, tritely, with hackneyed optimism, Reach for the moon and you’ll land among the stars (at a job you’re pleasantly disengaged from), but, Go out and own that blasted moon if you want it! And yet I know that they’re already beginning to learn lessons that are at odds with their idealism. They already know that you can work hard but not get your turn. It’s hard to watch their disappointments, hard to know that no amount of careful planning, hard work or even innate talent can protect them from frustration or disillusionment. Even knowing that these experiences also teach them resilience and empathy, a parent’s heart is bound to shed tears for the lessons ahead.
It’s hard to be sure of how prepare our children for life. Certainly not all of our advice will be embraced, as hard won as it has been for us. It’s such good advice, too. It’s a user’s manual, a brilliant one, just tossed aside. It’s hard, when we can see the danger, to remember that they don’t step in our footsteps, but beside them, and then ahead of them. But still, before you turn away, sweet child, if I could impress upon you just one pearl: Don’t rush. Through life, to judgment, into hurried promises… getting there first doesn’t matter if you’re at the wrong rendezvous and missed the view. Take your time.
At the dinner table, we discussed what we would do if we could… flip houses, write novels, manage a greenhouse (that last one is mine, despite the fact that I have a proven track record against keeping plants alive… I just think the division of admin and physical labor would be ideal). In little ways, we’ve made our “what ifs” come true. The Becks have a tiny little stake of real estate, and my brother has written multiple novels that I’ve read for pure pleasure. I, admittedly, have not even planted anything lately (probably for the best), but I did bring an orchid back to life this year – it was literally in the outside trash can when I had second thoughts and promised it another chance – and I’ve found ways to add a little more activity to my days. And even as our stories unfold in ways we didn’t fully expect, we’re all someone whom someone else knows; the more invested we are in our own pursuits, the more faceted we become, and the more connections we develop. As we develop, as we do more of the things we love, our network grows, and it reflects the life we’ve created. We’re all only six degrees away from Kevin Bacon, but how we build that bridge of connections is about how we commit our time, and not rushing the process.
“It’s the weight that you carry from the things you think you want.” I love this lyric. Sometimes we’re so focused on our path, we forget to look up. We forget to shake off the weight. 80% of us know people who know people. Is that depressing or is that comforting? We struggle under the apprehension that we’re the 20% left out in the cold, and yet by nature we’re all born with a wonderful and endearing idealism, if we can just try not to lose it. If we can just dig deep to find it again. We reach out to help others because someone reached out to help us. Maybe that’s not such heavy subject matter for parenting after all.
