A Treasured Tradition

I once had a colleague who was one of the most emotionally unavailable people I've ever met. Paradoxically, he did more than anyone to enrich my life as a father. He recommended a ritual that immediately struck a chord, one that fits this time of year, and I continue to evangelize the idea with other parents.

He suggested I set aside time annually to write a letter to each of my daughters. He urged me to make the letter more interpretive than descriptive. Capture the key moments of the year, but also explain why they stand out. Talk about the reasons they're so memorable for you. Most importantly, elaborate on what they seem to reveal about the character and core interests of your child.

Ideally, the ritual starts when the child is a toddler, and it's sustained until the year they leave they home. At that point, you should have a printable stack of installments stretching back almost two decades. The day the child sets out to launch a new phase of life, heading off to college or whatever, becomes an intensely significant occasion. You hand over a closely guarded record of your observations over the years. It becomes a profoundly moving departure gift.

There are layers of meaning embedded in this gift. For one thing, it conveys the continuity of your commitment. It reinforces the principal promise of parenthood, which is to be present for your child. You prove you've been paying close attention all along. You provide physical evidence of your watchfulness, and you imply it will never end, even as you now become a more remote spectator.

But there's a deeper source of value, one that's important to unlocking an individual's potential. With age, many of us lose the memory and awareness of what animated us as children. Through the process of socialization we take on patterns of thought and action that diverge from our most basic passions. In many instances, these early clues become lithified layers of our past. They become sediment that eventually converts to rock.

Long ago, writing surfaces were so rare they had to be reused. A 'palimpsest' was an early form of recycling in which an old document, typically a piece of parchment paper, was erased to make room for a new one. Your package of letters is like a palimpsest containing hints of a distant past. It reveals early sparks of your child's identity that may later be reignited.

I gave away the first of my two letter packages last year. It was a beautiful bonding moment, most certainly worth the wait. If you're a parent, especially one with a baby or toddler, I can't recommend this ritual highly enough. The time to start is now.