They weren't perfect parents, but they passed on something more valuable than inheritance—ways of being that are quietly disappearing.
My boomer parents made their share of mistakes. They could be stubborn, sometimes out of touch, occasionally infuriating in their resistance to change. But as I watch these qualities vanish from the world, I realize they gave me gifts I didn't recognize as gifts until they became rare. These weren't taught through lectures but through daily modeling—thousands of small moments that shaped how I move through the world.
These values feel increasingly countercultural now, like swimming upstream in a world that's forgotten why the current used to flow differently.
1. The ability to do nothing productive and not feel guilty
My parents could sit on the porch for hours, drinking coffee, watching birds, talking about nothing important. No podcasts playing. No self-improvement goals. No monetizing their hobbies. They understood that rest wasn't laziness but a legitimate state of being.
They never felt obligated to turn downtime into productivity. Weekends weren't for side hustles or optimization. Sometimes they'd spend entire Sundays reading the paper and napping. This gift—the ability to exist without producing—feels almost radical now. They taught me that my worth wasn't tied to my output, that being is as valid as doing.
2. Staying loyal even when it costs you something
They kept the same mechanic for thirty years, even when cheaper options appeared. Stayed with friends through their divorces, bankruptcies, and breakdowns. Didn't abandon people when they became inconvenient. This wasn't blind loyalty—they saw flaws clearly. But they understood that relationships deepen through weathering storms together, not despite difficulties but because of them.
In a world of ghosting and instant unfollowing, their commitment seems almost quaint. But it taught me that real relationships require staying power. That loyalty isn't just for when it's easy or beneficial. That showing up consistently, especially when it costs you something, is how trust actually builds.
3. Fixing things instead of replacing them
The toaster that survived three decades. The car driven until it literally couldn't anymore. Clothes mended repeatedly rather than tossed. This wasn't just frugality—it was a fundamental belief that things deserved respect, that ownership meant responsibility, that the new wasn't automatically better than the familiar.
They showed me how to see potential in the broken, value in the worn. More importantly, they modeled patience with imperfection. Not everything needed to be upgraded the moment something better appeared. This relationship with objects translated into a relationship with life—not constantly seeking the next thing but fully using what you have.
4. Keeping private things actually private
They didn't share their marriage struggles with acquaintances. Didn't broadcast their health issues. Kept family conflicts within the family. Not from shame, but from understanding that privacy protects intimacy. Some things lose power when exposed to too much light.
This taught me the difference between secrecy and privacy, between hiding and boundaries. They showed me that not every thought needs expressing, not every moment needs documenting, not every feeling needs an audience. That some experiences are more meaningful when held close rather than displayed.
5. Accepting boredom as normal, not a crisis
They could handle long car rides without entertainment. Waiting rooms without phones. Rainy afternoons with nothing planned. Boredom wasn't an emergency to be solved but a normal part of life's rhythm. They didn't fear empty time or silence. Sometimes nothing happened, and that was fine.
This comfort with boredom gave me mental space that constant stimulation would have filled. Time to daydream, to process, to let thoughts develop without rushing them. They showed me that not every moment needs to be optimized, that the spaces between activities have their own value.
6. Doing the right thing without needing recognition
They returned extra change. Helped neighbors without posting about it. Donated without naming opportunities after themselves. The reward was internal—the simple knowledge that they'd done right. They didn't need external validation for their choices, didn't require applause for basic decency.
This invisible integrity shaped my understanding of character. That who you are when no one's watching matters more than your public persona. That doing good for its own sake, without documentation or recognition, is its own reward. That the most important audience for your actions is yourself.
7. Staying somewhere long enough to grow roots
Same house for decades. Same job until retirement. Same coffee shop every morning. They understood that some rewards only come through duration—the neighbor who becomes family, the colleague who becomes confidant, the place that shapes you as much as you shape it.
They taught me that constant optimization might mean missing the deeper gifts of commitment. That roots take time to grow, and they only grow through staying. That the grass isn't always greener—sometimes it's just different grass. That depth comes from duration, not variety.
8. Respecting hierarchies of experience
They understood that twenty years doing something meant something. That elders had wisdom worth hearing. That expertise took time to develop. Not blind deference to authority, but recognition that experience creates knowledge that theory alone can't provide.
This feels almost offensive now, in a world where everyone's opinion carries equal weight online. But they taught me to recognize real expertise, to value apprenticeship, to understand that some things can only be learned through time. That respecting those who've walked the path before you isn't weakness but wisdom.
9. Letting relationships breathe without constant contact
Friends could go months without talking and pick up where they left off. They didn't need daily check-ins to maintain connection. Relationships had rhythm—periods of closeness and distance, intensity and rest. Love didn't require constant proof through communication.
They showed me that secure relationships can handle space. That missing someone is part of friendship. That constant contact can actually prevent the missing that makes reunions sweet. That relationships, like plants, can be killed by too much attention as easily as too little.
Final thoughts
These values weren't perfect. Sometimes loyalty became enabling. Privacy could become isolation. Staying put might have meant missing opportunities. My parents' generation had blind spots I'm grateful we're addressing—around mental health, emotional expression, social justice.
But in our rush to correct their limitations, we're losing things that took generations to build. The ability to be still without shame. The patience to let things unfold slowly. The understanding that not everything needs to be public, productive, or perfect.
These values feel like endangered species now—still existing but increasingly rare, often mocked as outdated. Yet I find myself returning to them when modern life feels unsustainable. When optimization exhausts me. When constant connection leaves me lonelier. When replacing everything still leaves me empty.
My parents gave me permission to live at a different pace. To value things the market doesn't price. To find meaning in ways that don't photograph well. These gifts become more precious as they become rarer. In a world obsessed with the new, they taught me to treasure the lasting. In a culture of display, they modeled depth. In an economy of attention, they showed me the value of privacy.
I'll carry these values forward, even as the current pushes against them. Not from nostalgia, but from recognition that some wisdom shouldn't be upgraded away. Some things, once lost, can't be downloaded back.
If You Were a Healing Herb, Which Would You Be?
Each herb holds a unique kind of magic — soothing, awakening, grounding, or clarifying.
This 9-question quiz reveals the healing plant that mirrors your energy right now and what it says about your natural rhythm.
✨ Instant results. Deeply insightful.
