Happy Mother's Day: And the value of a parental 'no'

By Rory Ryan

My parents did not indulge their four children with idle time or self-pity wallowing. May God bless them for both.

For our formative years, we lived "in the country," as we called it. Some of my best childhood memories are from rural Concord Township where the famous Whiskey Road now stops at Crooked Road. (Many years ago, the Whiskey Road continued well south of Crooked for the bootleggers' trade.)

From memory – in those formative years – I know that I heard the word "no" more than I heard the word "love." As an adult and father of three, I learned long ago that "no" and "love" were often synonymous in our home, whether we realized it or not.

My mother would yell "no" if one of us were about to touch a stovetop burner or a hot stove pipe. We would hear "no" if we tried to push the limits of already decided matters, such as appropriate limits on treats, bedtimes, avoiding homework assignments or any other various and sundry issues.

I recall having a bad report card once (or twice) because I just lacked interest in the subject matter and how it was presented. My lack of interest in said subject matter was met with a resounding "no," as in "no baseball this summer if you do not pass all of your classes."

"No" meant "no" in our home. No was not debatable. No was not open to further discussion or a call to a taxpayer-funded government entity to enter into the conversation as an outside arbiter. Nope. When my parents said their emphatic "no," we knew it was non-negotiable. And, deep down, we knew it was for our own good.

Today's young mothers and fathers would be wise to learn to say "no" now and then. Not always. But as appropriate. If, as a parent, you do not know when that "no" is appropriate, I know at least one mother, grandmother and great-grandmother who can explain it better than I can. Believe it.

I've often said that I would not trade my childhood with anyone's. I loved growing up in the country, working in the hayfields and tobacco fields (OK, not so much in tobacco), fishing in nearby farm ponds, playing seasonal sports and just being outdoors for more hours each day than I was indoors. Honestly, I could sleep outside most months of the year better than indoors.

My parents were that way, too. On summer nights years ago, we would make a small fire, then toss a blanket on the ground to watch the stars and meteor showers. Pretty soon, we'd all fall asleep. At least that's the way I remember it.

If I could still wish my dad a happy Father's Day, I would be proud and pleased to do so. But that hunter is home from the hill, as Robert Louis Stevenson wrote.

Thus, I will wish a very happy Mother's Day to my mother, who never hesitated to say the word "no" when it was in the best interest of her children.

If any of us needed to hear that word more than the others, it was me. There is parental value in saying "no" to some of the whims of your children. They will thank you for it later in life.

Happy Mother's Day to all good mothers everywhere.

Rory Ryan is publisher and owner of The Highland County Press, Highland County's only locally owned and operated newspaper.