Do you ever wonder why you are the way you are? Your personality~is it a combination of both of your parents or part of your genetic DNA? For me, I know I have my mother's eyes, and am built like my dad's mother. But personality wise? I think I am more like my dad than my mom.
Why am I more like my dad and his mom? The summer we moved from Illinois to Arizona my dad, my little brother, and I lived with my grandparent's, while my mom and older brother, sold the house in Illinois. I learned an amazing amount of things that summer as a 9 year old. My grandma taught me to do laundry, iron, how to properly set the table, and how Polish Perogi is made from scratch (she'd have none of that purchased in the freezer section where an assembly line has haphazardly thrown together!)
While my grandmother and I spent time together I learned many things about her family, herself, and my father. What did I learned? Red carnations were her favorite flowers. She had a green thumb and easily grew roses and taught me that in Arizona, the first week of February is when you prune them. When she spoke of rough patches in her marriage I asked why she stayed married all these years. Her reply? “When you made your bed you had to lie in it. Divorce is not an option.”
Grandma told me funny stories about my dad and uncles. When the boys were little they wanted to wear knickers because all the other boys were wearing them. Apparently my grandfather, did not have the same affection for knickers and thought they were for sissy's. Grandma said my dad asked if he and his brothers could wear the knickers; grandma reminded little Brian how Papa felt about the fashion faux pas. My grandfather owned several drug stores and worked a hideous amount of hours. I guess my dad was well aware of that fact because he explained to his mom that it would be okay because pop is never home and “he will never know.”
One day my grandmother told my dad that he needed to get down in the basement and get all of the toys cleaned up before his father got home from work. My dad replied, “What? Do you think that I am an octopus?” She thought it was adorable years later, but I'm not sure how she felt about it or responded when he said it as a little 4 year old that afternoon. She told story after story of my dad's Boxer, Binx. If I remember correctly, my dad said they got rid of her as a punishment. Looking back, that might explain why my dad thought it perfectly appropriate to get rid of my dog, Heidi, or why it was okay for a parent to do such a thing to a teenager.
It sounds like my dad was creative in his thinking, adventurous in spirit, and not afraid to say what he thought. Yep~I think I'm going to have to admit that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and I am more like my dad in many ways. But, that is okay with me.
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