This resonated so deeply with me and sparked an idea. I tutored math for 20 years, privately, one-on-one, out of my home. I was extremely successful with it. Not having kids myself, I think that I managed to stay young even as I got into my 40s and 50s. I was really able to relate to the kids. Having loved math when I was younger, combined with not being terribly good at it, gave me the understanding I needed with the teenagers I tutored. I am also a very good communicator. I stopped tutoring right at the start of COVID. I'd been looking to get out, but couldn't bring myself to say no to the parents or the kids. Working evenings and Saturdays for twenty years, I'd had enough of it and finally was able to stop tutoring. But I miss the math! I would spend hours of my own time carefully writing out all the solutions to the problems in a calculus textbook (and I mean ALL the solutions), in coil-bound heavy graph paper notebooks and boy I enjoyed that so much. Of course, now, not tutoring anymore, I haven't touched a math problem for years, except in my business, which is accounting (I have my own company).
So, when I read that your father, Susan, loved chemistry and used to spend Sundays reading chemistry textbooks, it got me thinking ... why can't I continue to write out solutions to calculus problems? It certainly would be an element of a "quiet life" -- there is no one who will see these solutions written out, no one will rate them, judge them, read them. But none of that matters if I am sitting quietly and enjoying the process.
Thank you so much. I've been a follower and subscriber for about a year now and I love the candlelight chats (though I haven't been able to make all of them). Keep up the good work. We love your books, your messages, and your chats. Lovely memories of your father and what a wonderful way to honour him. My mom passed away in 2022 and I can still hear her voice in my ear sometimes when I'm about to do something and she suggests some other way that would be so much more practical. :-)
What I remember about my dad and the first memories I have are about learning to tie my shoes and him being there silently observing from his office if I was to need extra time getting that task done. The touching details of speaking to your dad the day he died right before he passed away makes me crave a loving relationship! You two must have been like two beans in a pod and so sweet I almost have to look inside myself to further enhance this creative juice. Thank you!
My Dad always encouraged me to work hard at whatever I was doing because it would pay off later. You know what? He was right! He always treated people fairly and with kindness. I have done the same in my life.
Susan, Sending caring love to you on this heart-tugging anniversary.
You inspired me to write about the 7 top lessons from my mother. She passed away 16 months ago:
Top 7 Things My Mom Taught Me by Example
1. Love others the way they are & where they are in life. Be present. Say, “I’m glad you are you!”
2. Keep sharing your special gifts with the world making positive change and making a difference on all levels (until the very end). Mentor, share experiences & exchange knowledge (and don’t worry about getting credit for it). Don’t be boring. Be pragmatic. Be curious. Find common humanity (even if it is the love of pets). Smile. Listen and build on what you hear. Collaborate and compete to reach better outcomes. Keep each other’s spirits up. Persevere.
3. Be thoughtful, thankful, kind and compassionate. Listen, give your attention and care to others. Write that thank you note. Make the gesture. Remember to thank the grocery clerks. Maybe make a poster & join them on their picket line, like my mom did. Thank the farm workers who picked the food on our plates.
4. Mark life with the specialness of celebrations & the rhythm of rituals. At the milestones have cake + ice cream with colorful sprinkles! Put up banners. Light candles for a wish! Share with friends. Celebrate the quiet corners of life with unpretentious rituals, like going out for breakfast with a loved one (contemplating an ice cream shake) each time the car gets serviced. It’s terribly important. Make doing errands an “outing.” Have fun. Take the scenic route!
5. Love all that is beautiful in this world & really enjoy it! Have a wide breadth of interests; multiple sources of vitality, happiness & identity.
6. Work for systemic change, it is the sustainable, large scale and long-term solutions that matter. It takes maybe more than a lifetime to achieve. Persist. It is meaningful. Work for the right relationships between us to heal the wounds of this world. Live with the contradictions. Make lunches with big sandwiches, bananas and other treats and stuff backpacks with essentials, including tube socks, to gift to people without homes.
7. Seek out and treasure awe, enchantment, beauty & humor (the irreverent, subversive and silly) in obvious and unexpected places. Continually be aware of such moments near & far. Live in the present. Feed your body, mind & spirit. Broaden your universe. Ask and contemplate the big questions. Jubilantly laugh. Oh, how I miss her hearty contagious laugh!
(Well maybe that’s more than seven…)
And your addition of your father’s ultimate farewell, I wrote an essay that starts:
My mom’s last words were, “My butt hurts.” This phrase wasn’t the extraordinarily profound final goodbye immortalized by films that I anticipated from her. This was no Hollywood ending. No enduring or poignant narration to linger and reflect upon…
And ended with:
…Laughing. Crying. Laughing so not to cry. Sometimes bringing us to tears.
Dear Susan, thank you so much for sharing these wonderful memories about your father. What a lovely man! It makes me have happy memories of my own dad, too, who was similarly quiet but whose work really impacted people--it was so special to learn how what he did and who he was continued to ripple out and help others after he died. I feel so lucky to be one of those people, too!
I join in honoring the memory of your father today, and in expressing appreciation for the gift of his daughter Susan. If I might borrow his words: "If you happen to be a writer, take care of your readers--really take care of them." And you do in countless ways through your well-researched and thoughtful books and through the creation of this beautiful, safe, nurturing Quiet Life Community.
What beautiful memories of a remarkable man. Thank you for sharing him with us. May his memory be eternal. May you find all the comfort you need on this anniversary. So very sorry for your loss ❤️🩹
This is such a beautiful legacy your father left for you. You being the most precious.
Both of my parent’s mobility have been effected by the years but it’s my father who’s devoted most to her wellbeing. He carries a quiet power about him and considers life thoughtfully.
He taught me to respect others and I always come back to that when contemplating all the things.
Thank you for this profound insight. I do have to be cautious of where I read some of your posts because I’m bound to tear up.
Both my Mom and Gramma had Alzheimer's and I was fortunate enough to find a support group in my city that taught me this lesson - It is better to be kind than to be right.
Other lessons from people who were willing to share their wisdom with me - Quiet is not a weakness; Clear is kind; We are all made of stardust and are all connected; Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love it will not lead you astray; Love is the answer, love is always the answer.
I hope that in my life I have demonstrated that I live my life using these wisdom nuggets and that I have been able to gift these to another sentient being.
The man I called Dad was sadly not my paternal father. I say sadly because I was the result of an extra marital affair by my mother. I was born in England Just before the end of WWII. These things happened I guess when husband and wives were separated due to the war effort.
But coming back to dad, he was the world for me. Not once did he ever reveal any emotion or thoughts, he may have had due to that situation. In fact, I think he went out of his way to be very special for me. And reflecting on the past, I think he favored me amply, indeed better than my other siblings. For my 16th birthday he gave me a wallet with a ten-shilling banknote inside. Well, the ten shillings are long gone. But I use the wallet daily to this day. There's little chance I'll ever forget him.
He taught me many things: how to listen, how to read, the difference between a trombone and a trumpet, between a Symphany and a concerto, politeness' and incivility and so much more.
I hope I have been half as good as he, for my children.
Best advice from my parents is to save. As Benjamin Franklin said, "A penny saved is a penny earned." I learned this lesson working 2nd shift a potato chip factory during my summers in college and a few more soulless jobs after graduation. I finally got to a place where I loved what I did and I was able to do it for free to build up my client list to get paid for what I loved!
Advise from my older sister is to give yourself permission to have time to decide. At that time I was pregnant and I felt pressure from the doctor to be induced, but I knew that is not what I wanted. She said to politely say "I will think about it" or "I will get back to you". I will add "No, that does not work for me" as advice I think I got from a good book.
Susan, thank you for sharing your father's advice. Have you ever thought about incorporating that letter from his patient into one of your books or articles to reach more people in the medical field? Caring is so healing and it sounds like your father was attuned to this.
This resonated so deeply with me and sparked an idea. I tutored math for 20 years, privately, one-on-one, out of my home. I was extremely successful with it. Not having kids myself, I think that I managed to stay young even as I got into my 40s and 50s. I was really able to relate to the kids. Having loved math when I was younger, combined with not being terribly good at it, gave me the understanding I needed with the teenagers I tutored. I am also a very good communicator. I stopped tutoring right at the start of COVID. I'd been looking to get out, but couldn't bring myself to say no to the parents or the kids. Working evenings and Saturdays for twenty years, I'd had enough of it and finally was able to stop tutoring. But I miss the math! I would spend hours of my own time carefully writing out all the solutions to the problems in a calculus textbook (and I mean ALL the solutions), in coil-bound heavy graph paper notebooks and boy I enjoyed that so much. Of course, now, not tutoring anymore, I haven't touched a math problem for years, except in my business, which is accounting (I have my own company).
So, when I read that your father, Susan, loved chemistry and used to spend Sundays reading chemistry textbooks, it got me thinking ... why can't I continue to write out solutions to calculus problems? It certainly would be an element of a "quiet life" -- there is no one who will see these solutions written out, no one will rate them, judge them, read them. But none of that matters if I am sitting quietly and enjoying the process.
Thank you so much. I've been a follower and subscriber for about a year now and I love the candlelight chats (though I haven't been able to make all of them). Keep up the good work. We love your books, your messages, and your chats. Lovely memories of your father and what a wonderful way to honour him. My mom passed away in 2022 and I can still hear her voice in my ear sometimes when I'm about to do something and she suggests some other way that would be so much more practical. :-)
What I remember about my dad and the first memories I have are about learning to tie my shoes and him being there silently observing from his office if I was to need extra time getting that task done. The touching details of speaking to your dad the day he died right before he passed away makes me crave a loving relationship! You two must have been like two beans in a pod and so sweet I almost have to look inside myself to further enhance this creative juice. Thank you!
My Dad always encouraged me to work hard at whatever I was doing because it would pay off later. You know what? He was right! He always treated people fairly and with kindness. I have done the same in my life.
Beloved spiritual teachers have always encouraged me to BE who I am here to BE
Susan, Sending caring love to you on this heart-tugging anniversary.
You inspired me to write about the 7 top lessons from my mother. She passed away 16 months ago:
Top 7 Things My Mom Taught Me by Example
1. Love others the way they are & where they are in life. Be present. Say, “I’m glad you are you!”
2. Keep sharing your special gifts with the world making positive change and making a difference on all levels (until the very end). Mentor, share experiences & exchange knowledge (and don’t worry about getting credit for it). Don’t be boring. Be pragmatic. Be curious. Find common humanity (even if it is the love of pets). Smile. Listen and build on what you hear. Collaborate and compete to reach better outcomes. Keep each other’s spirits up. Persevere.
3. Be thoughtful, thankful, kind and compassionate. Listen, give your attention and care to others. Write that thank you note. Make the gesture. Remember to thank the grocery clerks. Maybe make a poster & join them on their picket line, like my mom did. Thank the farm workers who picked the food on our plates.
4. Mark life with the specialness of celebrations & the rhythm of rituals. At the milestones have cake + ice cream with colorful sprinkles! Put up banners. Light candles for a wish! Share with friends. Celebrate the quiet corners of life with unpretentious rituals, like going out for breakfast with a loved one (contemplating an ice cream shake) each time the car gets serviced. It’s terribly important. Make doing errands an “outing.” Have fun. Take the scenic route!
5. Love all that is beautiful in this world & really enjoy it! Have a wide breadth of interests; multiple sources of vitality, happiness & identity.
6. Work for systemic change, it is the sustainable, large scale and long-term solutions that matter. It takes maybe more than a lifetime to achieve. Persist. It is meaningful. Work for the right relationships between us to heal the wounds of this world. Live with the contradictions. Make lunches with big sandwiches, bananas and other treats and stuff backpacks with essentials, including tube socks, to gift to people without homes.
7. Seek out and treasure awe, enchantment, beauty & humor (the irreverent, subversive and silly) in obvious and unexpected places. Continually be aware of such moments near & far. Live in the present. Feed your body, mind & spirit. Broaden your universe. Ask and contemplate the big questions. Jubilantly laugh. Oh, how I miss her hearty contagious laugh!
(Well maybe that’s more than seven…)
And your addition of your father’s ultimate farewell, I wrote an essay that starts:
My mom’s last words were, “My butt hurts.” This phrase wasn’t the extraordinarily profound final goodbye immortalized by films that I anticipated from her. This was no Hollywood ending. No enduring or poignant narration to linger and reflect upon…
And ended with:
…Laughing. Crying. Laughing so not to cry. Sometimes bringing us to tears.
Not an ultimate farewell after all.
Dear Susan, thank you so much for sharing these wonderful memories about your father. What a lovely man! It makes me have happy memories of my own dad, too, who was similarly quiet but whose work really impacted people--it was so special to learn how what he did and who he was continued to ripple out and help others after he died. I feel so lucky to be one of those people, too!
I join in honoring the memory of your father today, and in expressing appreciation for the gift of his daughter Susan. If I might borrow his words: "If you happen to be a writer, take care of your readers--really take care of them." And you do in countless ways through your well-researched and thoughtful books and through the creation of this beautiful, safe, nurturing Quiet Life Community.
What beautiful memories of a remarkable man. Thank you for sharing him with us. May his memory be eternal. May you find all the comfort you need on this anniversary. So very sorry for your loss ❤️🩹
This is such a beautiful legacy your father left for you. You being the most precious.
Both of my parent’s mobility have been effected by the years but it’s my father who’s devoted most to her wellbeing. He carries a quiet power about him and considers life thoughtfully.
He taught me to respect others and I always come back to that when contemplating all the things.
Thank you for this profound insight. I do have to be cautious of where I read some of your posts because I’m bound to tear up.
Sossoo! I feel you and find you in these words you tell. But it is life we should face.
My father and I talked, just before he died of COVID. He was in the hospital, trying to breathe.
Look to the cleanliness of his heart. ❤️
These recommendations for me are golden rules.
Such a wonderful acknowledgment of your dad. I too was so lucky to have my dad close to me until he died at 90. Humble, sensitive, brave, loving.
His parting message to us was ‘more than anything be kind’.
Both my Mom and Gramma had Alzheimer's and I was fortunate enough to find a support group in my city that taught me this lesson - It is better to be kind than to be right.
Other lessons from people who were willing to share their wisdom with me - Quiet is not a weakness; Clear is kind; We are all made of stardust and are all connected; Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love it will not lead you astray; Love is the answer, love is always the answer.
I hope that in my life I have demonstrated that I live my life using these wisdom nuggets and that I have been able to gift these to another sentient being.
The man I called Dad was sadly not my paternal father. I say sadly because I was the result of an extra marital affair by my mother. I was born in England Just before the end of WWII. These things happened I guess when husband and wives were separated due to the war effort.
But coming back to dad, he was the world for me. Not once did he ever reveal any emotion or thoughts, he may have had due to that situation. In fact, I think he went out of his way to be very special for me. And reflecting on the past, I think he favored me amply, indeed better than my other siblings. For my 16th birthday he gave me a wallet with a ten-shilling banknote inside. Well, the ten shillings are long gone. But I use the wallet daily to this day. There's little chance I'll ever forget him.
He taught me many things: how to listen, how to read, the difference between a trombone and a trumpet, between a Symphany and a concerto, politeness' and incivility and so much more.
I hope I have been half as good as he, for my children.
Wonderful memories! And I thought I had used my wallet for a long time (more than 30 years)!
Oh I hope you’re 1/2 as good too, Nigel!
Best advice from my parents is to save. As Benjamin Franklin said, "A penny saved is a penny earned." I learned this lesson working 2nd shift a potato chip factory during my summers in college and a few more soulless jobs after graduation. I finally got to a place where I loved what I did and I was able to do it for free to build up my client list to get paid for what I loved!
Advise from my older sister is to give yourself permission to have time to decide. At that time I was pregnant and I felt pressure from the doctor to be induced, but I knew that is not what I wanted. She said to politely say "I will think about it" or "I will get back to you". I will add "No, that does not work for me" as advice I think I got from a good book.
Susan, thank you for sharing your father's advice. Have you ever thought about incorporating that letter from his patient into one of your books or articles to reach more people in the medical field? Caring is so healing and it sounds like your father was attuned to this.
Such good responses: “I will think about it" or "I will get back to you" and "No, that does not work for me"