My parents almost never gave me advice, which was just as well, as I had no interest in taking it. Inasmuch as I was given a way of understanding the world, these understandings came to me through slogans that floated in the ether rather than being directly addressed to me.
As an example, the expression “It will all come out in the wash” was addressed to more or less any troubling situation. My (upper-working-class) parents possessed a fundamental faith in things turning out for the best, which served them well, mostly.
I never quite got the hang of that sense of optimism, being a tediously empirical child (“What about the Jews in Germany? Did it all come out in the wash for them?”). I understand now that this fundamental faith in a positive outcome – though not strictly rational – is obscurely true. My experience is that the situations that have caused me the most fear and anxiety – unemployment, isolation, money trouble, getting my kids into the right school – were duly and satisfactorily resolved in the end, just as my parents suggested they would be.
Worrying about it made no difference to that outcome whatsoever. When disaster came, it was nearly always unexpected. It really did all come out in the wash. I just wish I had believed in that principle as firmly as my parents had, because not doing so has meant I have spent a disproportionate amount of time being fearful or anxious about outcomes that never came about (this is known in psychology as catastrophising).
This got me to wondering which other slogans that floated around my childhood have stood the test of time. “There are two sides to every story” turned out to be almost a guiding principle and one that any novelist (and journalist) can scarcely do without – although that particular principle seems to be under threat, as anyone who has been at the centre of a Twitterstorm will know.
My mother’s favourite saying “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it”, while it struck me as banal and petit-bourgeois at the time, now strikes me as being as good a principle to live by as any.
My father’s mantra, invoked whenever I complained about anything – “Life’s unfair you’d better get used to it” – seems to me less convincing. While it is, of course, horribly true, it is used far too often by parents who can’t be bothered to try to ameliorate life’s unfairness by judiciously intervening. It is a fundamentally Conservative attitude to life, which I think can only undermine a child’s sense of self worth, as it is liable to lead to cynicism and bitterness. “Life’s unfair, but you can do your best to make it fair” would be a good rejoinder.
I still – just about – hold to my father’s faith that “people are fundamentally good” although Katie Hopkins sometimes makes me doubt it. I agree that “Money can’t buy you happiness” although not having any will definitely make you miserable, at least in this culture. And my dad’s response to racism – “everyone’s the same under the skin” – stands the test of time absolutely.
The one thing my parents, and most of their generation, got wrong however, was “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me”. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, most children would probably rather have all their limbs broken than suffer their parents’ or peer group’s consistent verbal cruelty. It is this sort of violence that even in adulthood causes the most everyday misery, not the more unusual kind that leaves marks.
On the whole, it turns out my parents were right about most things, most of the time. But then my father always did say: “I may not always be right. But I’m never wrong.” Amen to that.
