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"Mom," the beloved teenager asked, "How far is a fathom?"

I couldn't recall offhand, so we looked it up. (Yes, I know, I should know these things. It's why I buy reference books, so I don't have to remember. Worked for Indiana Jones' dad, didn't it? Don't answer that.) Anyway, it's about six feet. Which feels wrong, since the word 'fathom' sounds as if it should be some huge, unmeasurable distance. When Shakespeare said, "Full fathoms five thy father lies" it sounded as if the father was impossibly far away. Then again, thirty feet under water would be pretty darn deep for that day and age, I suppose.

But suddenly I was reminded of a moment from the long-ago depths of my own childhood. I'd gone to my mother with my book, because there was a word I didn't know. She and I opened the dictionary, and looked it up. "There," she said, "Now we both know a new word." She didn't mind admitting to me that she hadn't known it herself. It was more important to her that I understand where and how to find answers when I need them. And here I was, doing the same thing with my own child all these years later.

Thanks, Mama.
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mistymassey

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