Take Advantage of Tradition
Tradition is the name of the river which approaches perfection. It is the dedication of a family, a people, a tribe, a nation to a craft. A genius’ skill can shine anywhere without strong regulations and barriers for entry, but a tradition is the elevation of all who seek to raise it. A poor cook taught in tradition with recipes will always beat fast food, and he or she can pass on the tradition to a new generation who will adapt it and press onward with that surety and sense of place at their back.
China is pursuing a navy, despite lacking much of a history fighting any first-world opponents or having a longstanding fleet — they were only been a brown-water or green-water navy until the 90's — a mistake many believe will come at high cost. Similarly, we can see the value of a tradition ignored in baseball’s fading light and how the army is having trouble guaranteeing recruits can throw grenades properly. Our traditions are the things that we have made a part of our lifestyle and passed on, whether it be trouncing pirates on the high seas or making delicious food.
I have the great pleasure of seeing a recipe for granola taught now to my wife from ancient, wrinkled hands whose batches are numberless like dates on a palm tree: To count is to cheapen with credentialism what is obvious. My stepfather’s years of work are a true treat, and his hobby a masterwork. He takes as much pleasure in passing it along as I do in admiring it.
Traditions carry a price though. Anything we would add to our lifestyle, we must give up the other uses for that time and energy: If we would go to a church every Sunday, we cannot sleep in with no alarms. I formed my family and selected my wife two years ago, with the deliberate intention of starting fresh and wiping the slate clean. Now, I see some of the problems that come with rootlessness. There is no identity in a flame which says, “I will not be that wood any longer.” We must stand for something or we will be replaced by those who will. We must choose a foundation, the bricks which make our homes and the tools for our hands.
Pay the price. Fish or cut bait on all those hobbies and half-hearted interests, and the siren-songs of mermaid habits and the imaginings of what might be, and seize for yourself your identity. Pin it down and control it — you may change later, but start somewhere so you can start building and be known by your name. If you are a Millennial like me, the mixture of fear and hope will be palpable at the thought. Do it. Life may be a storm, but there is no safety in sitting belowdecks. Be who you want to be, starting today. One step at a time carve out a tradition, find a protege, and participate in the immortal baton-passing.
I have a 3x5 card from my great grandmother. A simple cake, but the pencil is so smudged and weathered and smeared by years it is illegible. I don’t know which is worse: to care and feel the loss, or to have moved to form a new family which cannot mourn that lost lead.
