Over a drink with some friends the other night, I asked for ideas for this week’s column. One suggested the subject of regret as it pertains to skills your parents attempted to teach you, but you disdainfully waved off at the time. She was particularly disgusted with herself, nigh on these 30 years later, that she hadn’t taken advantage of her dad’s expertise in all things construction. How useful that knowledge would be now!

The other friend immediately seconded that suggestion with his own story, albeit with a different spin. He described being dragged out to his mom’s extensive garden every summer to plant, water, weed, water, weed some more, and finally harvest the bounty. But the torture didn’t end there. He also had to -gasp- help with canning all the produce. More sweating. He resented every second of it. The twist came later – now he loves to garden and is also a skilled canner. All the pain and suffering early in life manifested into a love affair with soil in mid-life.

Fortunately for the first friend, her dad is still around to advise her on construction. I count myself fortunate that after snubbing my mom’s multiple attempts to teach me how to cook, I was able to apologize for my past non-interest and learn about separating eggs and thawing turkeys.

This seems like a common theme for adults – regret over spurned knowledge from their elders. Unfortunately, the regret doesn’t hit until middle age, when you start to appreciate all that wisdom. And you know when that appreciation really strikes? When you have teenage children. It’s not that raising children doesn’t immediately humble you and make you appreciate your parents for all their sacrifices. Oh, there are plenty of opportunities for humbling. No, it’s when you try to impart some of your hard-won wisdom to your offspring and are roundly ignored or, worse, mocked for attempting it. There is nothing like a teenager to remind you of your profound stupidity. How could you possibly know anything worth sharing? Crazy talk.

Mike has been around horses for the better part of forty years. He’s seen a few things and learned a few more. No matter. His children have repeatedly argued with him about what bit to use, how to saddle correctly, team roping techniques, and horse training methods since they became teens. Obviously, he knew nothing, and what he attempted to share was just plain wrong. Will introduced his dad to the concept of being an idiot, and his brother made up for lost time. There was a halcyon period when they both took Mike’s advice as gospel. Those days are gone, at least for now. In Will’s defense, now that he’s out in the big, wide world, he has a newfound appreciation for his dad. Nick isn’t quite there yet, but he hasn’t dismissed his dad completely.

I usually like to end with a lesson or moral. All I have for today is that we as humans are often fools as youth and later perceived as such by our children. The only good news is that it’s a universal reality, so there’s empathy to be found everywhere. The bad news is that currently, I’m in the idiot phase. This, too, may pass. Until then, fools, unite!