When families think about legacy, they often think about assets, estate documents, or a carefully produced family-history book. Those things can matter. But they don't automatically give the next generation a sense of who they are, where they came from, or how to meet a hard moment.

That work happens in conversation.

Dr Robyn Fivush, a psychologist at Emory University and a leading researcher on family narratives, has spent decades studying how family stories shape children, adolescents, and adults. In this episode of Visionary Advisor, she joins Alex Kirby to explain why the stories parents tell at dinner, in the car, or in the middle of an ordinary difficult day can become a lasting source of resilience.

For wealth advisors, the lesson is especially relevant. A family may have resources, opportunity, and a well-constructed plan, but the next generation still needs models for failure, challenge, recovery, and purpose. Those models are often found in the stories families choose to tell.

Children Need to Know You Were Once Like Them

Fivush's research found that it wasn't merely stories in general that predicted stronger outcomes for adolescents. It was intergenerational stories: the stories in which a parent, grandparent, or other family member explains what life was like for them at a similar age.

That matters because children often see their parents as finished products. They see a competent adult who has the answers, not someone who was once nervous before a first practice, uncertain about a friendship, disappointed by a setback, or unsure what to do next.

Alex calls this "perspective has an expiration date." Adults can forget what it felt like to be 11 years old and worried about something that now appears small. A timely story can restore that perspective. It tells a child: I understand this because I've been there too.

That doesn't require a polished, dramatic story. A brief memory can be enough: "When I was your age, I had a fight with a friend and didn't know how to fix it." The point isn't to turn every moment into a lesson. It's to make a child feel less alone in the experience they're having.

Why Family Dinners Matter More Than the Meal

For years, research showed that children and adolescents in families that ate dinner together tended to do better across academic, social, and emotional measures. But dinner itself wasn't the active ingredient.

Fivush and her collaborator, clinical psychologist Marshall Duke, wanted to know what was actually happening around the table. Their observation was that families who talked openly about their experiences seemed to have children who were doing better. The answer was family stories.

At an ordinary weeknight dinner, stories weave family members back together. Children share what happened at school. Parents bring children into the adult world by telling a story from work or an interaction from their day. Then, naturally, someone says: "That reminds me of when…" A recent event connects to a childhood memory, a family trip, a grandparent, or something that happened before the next generation was born.

This is good news for families who feel they need to create a formal, elaborate storytelling ritual. They don't. The most meaningful stories often appear in the middle of normal life. The goal is less about a perfect family dinner and more about building a regular culture of curiosity, conversation, and shared experience.

Tell the Stories of Failure, Not Just Success

Families often protect children from stories that might make a parent look less successful. That instinct is understandable, especially in families that have built significant wealth. But a narrative that includes only achievement can create distance, pressure, and the false impression that success is supposed to be effortless.

Fivush makes the case for appropriate vulnerability. Children, adolescents, and young adults are developing the ability to cope with disappointment, failure, and the moments when they can't do what they hoped they could do. If they have no model for working through those experiences, they can get stuck.

A parent's story offers a concrete roadmap. "I failed." "I did something I regret." "I was ashamed of how I handled that." "Here's what helped me work through it." That lands differently from an abstract instruction to be resilient. It shows the child that difficulty isn't evidence that they're broken or alone.

The resolution doesn't have to be neat. Not every hard experience becomes a triumph, and trying to force a silver lining can feel inauthentic. Sometimes the honest message is simply: this was sad, it was hard, we carried it together, and we kept going.

Your Teenager Is Listening, Even When It Doesn't Look Like It

Many parents assume their teenager doesn't care about family stories. They see the eye roll, the phone, the apparent distraction, and conclude that the story isn't landing.

The research suggests otherwise. Fivush says that well over 90 percent of the adolescents and young adults interviewed in this work knew stories about their parents growing up and their wider family history. Many said they wished they knew more.

Parents are often surprised when researchers repeat a story their adolescent shared about them. "She remembered that?" is a common reaction. The child may have appeared to be leaving the room when the story was told, but the story stayed with them.

This is a useful reminder for both parents and advisors working with multigenerational families. Don't wait for a formal invitation or a visibly enthusiastic audience. Tell stories in small, relevant pieces when the moment makes sense. Family history is usually not transferred in one sitting. It accumulates through years of ordinary conversation.

Don't Throw Them in the Deep End or Keep Them in Floaties

Parents want to protect their children. Especially after a period of widespread uncertainty and disruption, it can feel natural to keep hardship at a distance. Fivush's point isn't that parents should expose children to everything all at once. It's that no one can be protected from everything forever.

Her metaphor is memorable: don't throw a child into the deep end of the pool, but don't keep them in floaties for the rest of their life either.

The middle ground is gradual exposure to challenge, paired with emotional validation and real examples of how others have navigated difficulty. A child who learns to work through small disappointments has more resources for the larger hardships that will eventually arrive. The parent's role isn't to erase every problem. It's to help the child name it, understand it, and build the confidence to face it.

For families with substantial wealth, this is also a legacy issue. Removing all friction can unintentionally leave the next generation without the experience, language, or confidence needed to handle uncertainty. Stories of challenge and recovery can provide the balance: a family can offer support without pretending that life will never be hard.

What Wealth Advisors Can Do

Fivush's advice to advisors is direct: help families tell their stories.

For a wealth-creating family, the founder's story can easily become a burden: "I worked so hard, I sacrificed everything, and now it's your obligation to preserve it." That framing may communicate duty, but it doesn't necessarily create a positive narrative of resilience for future generations.

A more useful family story includes both the success and what it cost. It includes failed ventures, uncertainty, missed opportunities, relationships that made a difference, and the values that shaped decisions along the way. It helps the next generation understand that maintaining wealth won't mean getting every decision right. It'll mean responding to setbacks with judgment, support, and perspective.

Advisors don't need to become family therapists or professional biographers. They can create space for better questions in meetings:

What is a hard chapter in the family story that taught an important lesson?

Which values helped the family get through an uncertain period?

What do you hope your children understand about how this wealth was built?

What story about your life would you want them to remember when they face a similar challenge?

These questions shift the conversation from assets alone to the human capabilities that allow a family to steward wealth over time.

Legacy Is Also Meaning and Purpose

Fivush also makes an important point about the benefit to the storyteller. Telling a life story isn't only valuable for children and grandchildren. It can help adults make meaning of their own lives.

In midlife, people naturally begin asking what comes next and what they'll leave behind. Later in life, many move into a process psychologists call life review: reflecting on what they've done, whether it's been meaningful, and whether they've lived with integrity.

A legacy letter, a recorded conversation, a family-history project, or an unplanned story at the dinner table can all support that process. The format matters less than the exchange. A beautiful book is a valuable archive, but conversation is what turns a record of facts into shared knowledge, belonging, and identity.

The practical takeaway is simple: start before there's urgency. Ask one good question at dinner. Tell one small story when it's timely. Listen for the moment when a child, grandchild, or client needs to hear that a capable adult was once uncertain too.

That's how families build more than financial capital. They build resilience, connection, and a legacy the next generation can actually carry forward.

Listen to the Full Episode

The full conversation with Dr. Robyn Fivush is available now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and YouTube.

If this episode changed how you think about family stories and the role advisors can play in legacy, subscribe to Visionary Advisor and share it with another advisor who wants to help families do legacy better.

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