In Defense of Puzzles

I follow a blog called The Lazy Organizer. I thoroughly enjoy reading her posts, because this is a woman who is living her life by design and letting the world know it. She's pretty radical in her lifestyle and parenting methods by mainstream American standards, but that's probably what I love most--because of the "radical" streak that runs through me. She often writes about things I'm either already putting into practice, or have been mulling over in my mind for years, so I find great validation and inspiration in her blog.

This week, Lara (that's her name) wrote about how she's decided to rid her house of all puzzles (and board games, and earrings, and television and other various and sundry items) She recently attended a lecture that convinced her that puzzles are a waste of time, robbing her children of the best opportunities for learning and growth. I was puzzled by this perspective, but even more surprised by some of the comments of her readers, who, in response to her post, decided to do the very same, and rid their homes of these clutter-monsters, then thanking her for the "permission" to do so. For me, these comments were eerily reminiscent of what I imagine fueled Nazi book-burnings. But that's not really my point here--

When it comes to puzzles, I do have an opinion based on my own life experience. I've thought about this enough since Lazy's post that I need to write about it just to put it in words for my own sake. Feel free to tune out of this one.

I've always loved puzzles. Not necessarily the big fat board ones you play with when you're four, but the older, more complicated ones. Growing up, my Mom always pulled out a gigantic puzzle over the holidays and we'd all work on it a little at a time during the week between Christmas and New Years. Sometimes we'd sit for an hour and only find one piece, but you could cut the focus energy with a knife. My Mom was the most diligent- one piece at a time, every time she walked by that puzzle table. Because of the time and energy and determination put into those puzzles, we all got immense satisfaction out of completing them (and still do!), whether or not there were a few pieces missing.

I don't know how many times I've compared puzzle piecing to my research as a genealogist. When I first began researching, it was more of a "no wonder I've always loved puzzles," sort of connection, as I found myself linking a hundred pieces of information to tell a story about one person, or one family. But the more I learned and the more experience I gained, the more I could see parallels in the actual skills involved, especially:

• FOCUS: The ability to train your eye and your mind to focus on one tiny detail as you sift and sort through hundreds and thousands of pieces--to sustain that concentration.

• STRATEGY and METHODOLOGY: the ability to examine the puzzle and develop the most efficient/effective plan for solving it, one portion at a time; to reach a dead end and start all over again with a new plan, a new angle, a new perspective.
  

• PATIENCE: in seeing the puzzle through to the end- sheer stick-to-itiveness to solve what seems impossible to solve in the thick of the challenge.
  

I can't emphasize enough the value of these skills in my experience as a researcher or how I feel the same skills come alive when I sit down to a giant puzzle. So, which came first? My love of puzzles or my love of genealogy? I can't say. What I do feel is that they are among the better choices of activities, probably for even more reasons than I have stated.

And when it comes to parenting and life skills, here's a recent illustration:

My 8 year old Luke craves learning. He moves through life so fast, I sometimes feel the need to pull on the reins and get him to slow down to learn some foundational skills that will anchor or steady his ravenous appetite for growth (no, he is not ADHD, strung out on sugar, or addicted to TV and video games.) I started pulling out somewhat complicated puzzles over Christmas when he was 6, knowing he could do them if he could only focus on a challenge for longer than 15 minutes, understand that there is a strategy involved with puzzles, and have the patience and vision to see them through. I would talk him through these skills as long as he would last, and the first two years, he gave up before we were half way through.

This Christmas, I bought an even more complicated puzzle, and, once again, explained the skills involved in puzzle piecing and demonstrated each skill as I worked on it with him. After several hours of the two of us working on this puzzle (with help from Abby, too), we solved it. He was elated. It was clear he had that feeling of triumph inside that would give him the confidence to face an equally difficult, or perhaps even more challenging puzzle in the future.

A few weeks ago, we were planting in the flower garden. I decided to remove about half a dozen small bushes and called on Luke's muscles to get the job done. He attacked and removed them one by one until the last and largest bush. It took some time just to cut the top off down to the roots and then there remained a gnarly twisted mess seemingly cemented in the ground. Luke had already been slaving away on these bushes for nearly an hour when he came to this point and I was fully expecting him to give up when he saw these roots. But instead, I watched him survey the situation in silence, and saw his mind working on a plan- a strategy for removing those roots one at a time. He explained to me his strategy and then went to work on it, focusing his eyes on each small part of the whole as he hacked away, one piece at a time. Our Christmas puzzle flashed through my mind. Then, the longer I watched him, the more I thought: "Stick-to-itiveness! This boy's got Stick-to-itiveness!!" And I let him know it as he yelped for joy when that gnarly root finally gave way.

I would love for The Lazy Organizer and her readers to know what I know about puzzles, but she's a pretty smart gal, and will surely do well for her family whether or not she has puzzles around to clutter up her home. Maybe I'll share with her someday, but she's overrun with hate-mail at the moment for her radical ways, so I think I'll wait.

In the mean time, maybe I'll toss a few dusty board games-- or throw out the microwave.