A Family Cruise on the Rhine

swanA swan passed by my window this morning at sunrise. No, it wasn’t a dream. I’m on a river boat serving as Study Leader for a two-week Rhine River cruise from Basel to Amsterdam. The focus for this trip is family.

Of the 130 passengers on the ship, more than a third are children. The family groups range from an 82-year old grandma and her adolescent grandson to multi-generational bundles of relatives coming together from across the US.

I needn’t state that these are very fortunate children. In our opening reception, I used nearly biblical language describing the trip as a blessing for the kids able to participate. Every adult head was nodding in agreement.

Certainly the grandparents on the ship didn’t have such luxury travel growing up. In fact in many cases they are but one generation removed from the bold travelers who abandoned everything and sailed to Ellis Island seeking refuge in the early 20th century.

Some of the adults in the “parent” generation, though, enjoyed some international travel as youths. But even so, they seem as wide-eyed and excited as the kids.

And what about the kids? I feared they’d be privileged children hunched over in classic postures of teenaged boredom. But they aren’t. They’re smiling as broadly as an adolescent can in the presence of family. Plus, the best news of all: by the second day, I noticed a decline in their focus on digital technology. Could it be that castles are more interesting?

“Whose idea was this trip?” I like to ask this question of each family group. Inevitably, it will be a grandparent’s. One granddad told me gruffly, “A year ago, in the middle of my chemo, the Smithsonian catalogue came in the mail and I figured, what else was gonna put me in a better mood? So I told them ‘I’ve signed us all up!’” Based on his subsequent grin, that story has ended happily.

Of course not everyone is in a position to book expensive river cruises in order to build family memories. But the shared experiences all families crave don’t have to take place on a tour. They take place, equally powerfully, around the dinner table or standing at the sink doing dishes together. They abound when father and son puzzle over a recalcitrant lawn mower or big brother and little sister walk the dog. And they bloom with vibrancy every time someone reads out loud to the family. Or starts up a round of Frère Jacques.

Since beginning the Professor Carol adventure, I’ve come to understand better the irreplaceable value of family. I’ve observed countless families who, on a minimal budget, manage to find highly creative methods to counter what, to me, is our biggest societal problem. And, no, it’s not our collapsing standards of education, although that vies for the title.

It’s the collapse of the family, and in particular the extended family. It’s the numbing isolation that so many experience trying to raise their children or care for their aging parents without the support of other family members nearby.

It’s also the break in tradition that results when families are spread across a vast country, or torn apart by the demands of work schedules. Like so many problems, it starts quietly and builds over time, making it difficult to assess just how much damage is done.

Moms and dads need backup. They need someone older to turn to for reinforcement and advice. Kids need extra pairs of loving hands to foster them. They need the open hearts of a grandparent, aunt, uncle, or even older sibling or cousin. Even if you factor in the undeniable challenges of sibling rivalry or strife between some relatives, family relationships are the golden cross-threads that strengthen the weave of the fabric.

breisach
Breisach, Germany

And so my guests will use this journey to weave such a fabric. It’s a joy to watch contented grandparents taking after-dinner walks with their seven-year old grandchild along the Rhine’s leafy shore as the reflection of Breisach Castle sparkles across the water. It’s utterly fun, if a little scary, when the ceiling above my head shakes as teens on the sun deck romp through a hyper-active shuffleboard tournament. “Surely they built the ship strong enough for that, didn’t they?” I find myself asking.

The parents will go to sleep each night of the cruise knowing that their kids have experienced something unforgettable. Maybe it was their first smoked fish for breakfast or a hike in the Black Forest. Or maybe it was the challenge of photographing the dark beauty of a gothic cathedral.

And I’ll do my part to further the educational side of the trip. When I gave my first lecture called “Unraveling the Puzzle of German History,” most of the kids came . . . and stayed! The adults were pleased: they want the kids to take away more than cozy feelings or a taste for new foods. Tomorrow I’ll be talking about the engineering history of the Rhine itself, and what the Rhine has meant in the imagination of the artist.

And then I’ll launch my favorite session entitled “Goethe Boot Camp.” Few Americans have a solid knowledge of this German giant. We’ll linger a while with a famous passage from Faust in which the theme is lingering:

When I say to the Moment flying
‘Linger a while – thou art so fair!’ (Verweile doch, du bist so schön)
Then bind me in thy bonds undying.

Here Faust charges Mephisto with what he assumes is an impossible challenge: to bring the jaded professor into a state of ultimate satisfaction that will make him want to stop time and proceed no further. Faust, as it turns out, underestimates Mephisto’s abilities.

Can youngsters grasp such a passage? Their grandparents can. But it doesn’t matter. The kids will remember it, just as they will remember standing with grandma, feeling small beneath the spire of the Cologne Cathedral. And just as they will remember splashing Uncle Ralph in the backyard with the garden hose when they were supposed to be washing the picnic table, or hauling slate tiles to build grandma a path to the birdbath.

Because it’s about building. It’s about building moments that bind us together. It’s about needing each other. Nothing can replace what family offers, whatever the bumps and disappointments may be. And nothing could heal so many of our societal ills as quickly as renewed vitality of the extended family unit. At least, so it seems to me this late afternoon as I await the return of the swans at sunset.