For much of the month of August, I’ve been writing about my father. He loves to be the center of attention, so he mostly doesn’t mind.
But this week, I’ve come to realize that recording these stories is about more than writing a daily blog post that’s worth a read. I know the regret behind some of these stories. The roads not taken. Recording them is a way of constantly challenging myself to live life.
Because we all inherit things from our parents. I suppose at my age it’s natural to look in the mirror and screech my face is becoming a bulldog JUST LIKE DAD!!
But, it’s more than that.
We all rue the day we realize we’ve become our parents. I think—just now, today—I read back over the volume of words on this blog………….
And, I stopped………….
And, I screamed……………
God help me! I’ve turned into Roy!
I am the person who never knows when to shut off the story-spigot. Who is so bereft of opportunities to perform, she took to accosting people online. Begging people to read her words. To—sheesh—telling some of the same stories again and again, because she can’t remember when, or even if, she relayed them in the first place.
The only things I’m missing are a penis and an extra 150 pounds………..please tell me my transformation will never be complete……………
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Andra, some days I wake up and startle myself when I catch a glimpse in the mirror because I see my mother’s face! And while it’s a face I love, it’s still scary. I even see it in my daughter. She’s looked just like her daddy since the beginning and yet these days, she’s really starting to resemble me. She also has a funny little rubber face that’s always contorting this way or that, much the way mine does. These things are inevitable and I’ve come around to think they’re really quite wonderful. Keep telling us the same stories. Each time will still be a little different from the last.
It’s eerie how that happens, isn’t it? I see some pictures of myself, and I swear they’re my mother (even though the shape of my face is absolutely and unfortunately my father’s.) I haven’t seen a pic of your husband, but the ones you post of your daughter are the cutest. When you said she looked like him in a comment on your blog, I tried to imagine that………..now, I will ever see your husband (who is probably very English and very proper) with chocolate smeared all over his face.
People choose to come here, you don’t accost us! 😀 (Although I’ve never tried to leave – if I did, would you hunt me down across the blogosphere and make your blog appear any time I tried to look at anything else on the web? Coz that would be kind of annoying…)
I remind myself of both my parents in many ways, but I don’t mind because I think my parents are awesome 🙂 Also, I’m a blend of them both, and of their ancestors, and just maybe a few bits that are all my own!
I can no longer keep track of who chooses to be here and who doesn’t. People come and they go.
You know, I always wonder that: what pieces of me are unique to me, things I didn’t inherit from anywhere? Is there anything?
Ive been asking myself the same question for so long, and everytime I think Ive done something from zero, later at the very end I realized it wasnt that unique of me at all. I have no idea if thats good or bad.
I know – you think you are entirely yourself and then you find out some habit or ability none of your immediate family shares was the same as a great grandparent or something. I even found my Dad has dreams about scary stairs weirdly similar to ones I have about terrifying lifts (elevators). But in some ways it’s kind of cool to have that continuity.
So many of them, alas!
Ha.
Dear Andra. Not just the traits I have inherited, but those same traits I see in my kids and grandkids. Scary in a fun fascinating way. Most often it is those facial expressions that jar you into cross generational recognition.
It is the fear of those facial expressions that has spawned the botox generation……….especially when I see Dad’s bulldog jowls, which I will certainly have someday unless I seek outside help.
It’s a joke in our family that we will all end up like each other, but we all know we secretly love it. 🙂
There are things to be really proud of in that statement, amidst the things that frighten us.
I became my mother long ago. But I think only the bad things. All of the good came from my dad
If I could just stop my nervous tick with my hands that I inherited from my mother, I would be elated………….I think, in my personality, I am inherently like my mother, too. The things she does that drive me the craziest are things I have done. Repeatedly. To other people. As I have tried to grow beyond some of those things, we’ve had some friction, but I hope we have settled into a peaceful rhythm now.
Yes. I am my mother in so many ways. The more I understand this, the more I’m able to write my story from a place of love, or at least from a place of seeing all sides. And this, “telling some of the same stories again and again, because she can’t remember when, or even if, she relayed them in the first place.” I know that well. But that’s the great thing about old stories, I think about my own family and all those days we sat around, telling and retelling.
So you’re a girl-roy. Awesome. Awesome, indeed.
I’ve wondered how things were going with your mom, Angie. It sounds like everything is moving to a good place, and that makes me very happy to hear.
It has taken a lot of acceptance, some boundaries, remembering to be kind and remembering to love. Thank you. 🙂
I keep hoping that I didn’t inherit any dastardly parental traits, since I try to short-circuit them all and belie their influence in my youth. As for the story spigot, all I can say is “keep ’em coming, barkeep.”
It’s funny that you would call me a barkeep, Rob. You’ll know why someday. (And no, I’ve never been a bartender.)
I can hardly wait to find out. 🙂
I heard on the radio only yesterday that we become our parents at the age of 32!
Oh geez, Andrew. I wasn’t even a grownup by the age of 32……………I still wonder if I am………
I knew I’d reached that point when I was expressing how much I miss my Mom (she died in 2005), and my husband said, “Whenever you are missing her, just look in the mirror.” I think I get more like her every day! It bothered me in my 30’s – not so much now. I miss her a lot.
My mom still misses her mother every day. (And, they didn’t look alike.) I’m glad seeing her in the mirror is a comfort for you, Donna.
I inherited my Dad’s inability to call his own children by their CORRECT name…. Now, granted… I have 12 siblings. I have to give the man a bit of a break, but damn! I suck at remembering names! (I called my date the wrong name 3 times on our 1st date!) NOT GOOD! LOL!
With 12 kids, I’m surprised he didn’t just call everyone, “Hey you!” MTM has four siblings, and I can’t even imagine what 12 would’ve been like.
I used to joke and tell my friends we ate in shifts. I was dinner shift #2. 2nd seating. LOL.
Oh, and you TOTALLY WIN for the BEST blog post title EVER….. talk about a HOOK?!
Ha. Sometimes I surprise myself.
Well, before discussing my traits…You, my dear, have the germ of a short story or novel there. I know that since well before “The Metamorphosis” transformation stories are a genre (heck The Twilight Zone did a great one with Mickey Rooney) but still they catch the imagination. A young woman makes an idle comment and the next day…she is a 150 pound penis…
Dastardly traits? Well I am not dead so nothing of my father’s that I am aware of but, taking things way personally. For instance, if you don’t reply to this comment in the next 24 hours I will KNOW that you hate me and will never speak to you again! How dare she! 🙂
I can’t even fathom what waking up as a 150 pound penis would be like, Robert. You have definitely got my wheels churning. I wish I could think of a way to turn that into a scary story, because I have one due for a book of short stories. (I’m going to submit something else, but dang, I wish I’d written this months ago now…….)
And, I am scurrying to reply to this comment to make sure I remain on your good side. 🙂
So what you are saying is that you don’t have the balls to write such a story?! Snicker….
All of your posts are worth the read btw
Thank you. That’s always great to hear (especially this week.)
I have inherited my mothers tendency to see the negative in everything, and I am fighting that each and every day.
Both my parents have that tendency, so imagine what I’m like in my natural state………..
My daughter and I were playing around in the San Francisco science museum and they had a exhibit that would let two people sit on either side of a mirrored frame and “exchange” parts of their face. Kinda like the flip toys you had as a kid where you could mix and match parts of people and animals. Hilarious, right? My daughter and I sat down and started playing around and she got really quiet. No matter how many parts we exchanged….eyes, nose, chin, smile…we both looked exactly the same, except some had wrinkles and laugh lines. i thought she was going to be really upset, but she said…”at least I know I’ll still be beautiful when I’m old.” Kids.
Kids really know how to make us feel great, don’t they?
Mostly, yes. Haha
I can’t vouch for the penis, but I told you yesterday that you look like you are losing weight. By no means gaining any.
And we all love your stories.
I am not losing weight. Really. The scale says I’m gaining weight. (But I tell myself it’s muscle from all the hot yoga. My clothes tell me it’s not……….)
It doesn’t help that I went to the Riverdogs game last night and ate a hot dog. And chips. And a cookie. And more chips. Dang, I can’t resist chips……..
I inherited my mothers backside…..and my fathers non stop lecturing……my poor kids! 🙂 your stories at great!
Your father lectures, too? Growing up, that’s pretty much the only reason my dad talked to me………..
My backside is bigger than my mother’s. (She will delight in reading that.)
On what would have been my dad’s 101st birthday, there is nothing wrong with becoming like our parents. Keep writing, don’t worry.
I tip my hat to your dad today, Howard.
Well, short of surgery and hormones, you’re not gonna be Roy. Perhaps you’re the Roy-lite version? And I relish your word. And stories. And repetition. You know the power of the repeated word. Myth is made through repetition. Recitation. Keep on.
Oh, I’m sure I’m not too far away from the mustache and chin hair………
I’m there except for the male appendage.
Reblogged this on hitchens67 Atheism WOW!! Campaign.
Thanks for the reblog!
Thank YOU for the interesting articles and the gorgeous brown dress picture!
It is possible. After all, you were formed from his seed.
I just imagined my face on the front end of a sperm…….not a good image………..
Hilarious! But for a…I could barely get ready for work this morning just thinking about what your post today must be about after glimpsing at the title in my inbox. You are wonderful and Roy sounds the same, so embrace it. 🙂
Shannon, it always makes me really happy to come up with a good title. MTM is better at titles than me, but this one was my own. He advised against it, actually. 🙂
I wake up each morning, look in the mirror, and say “hi, Ma”, then, going about my day, with my books about me, my penchant for community service, I say “hi, Daddy”, and when Tom reminds me of how stubborn I can be, well, I’m not sure which one of them to blame. Mostly, I’m grateful that I have each of them with and in me. Yep. Good things, which you have in spades Andra. Keep on telling your stories, my friend.
I’ve told you this before, Penny, but I love it when you write about your parents. Your Greek heritage has lovely imagery.
I look more like my father, but certainly take after my mother. There are definitely times, though, that I’ve taken a side road and do things neither one of them would do.
Do you congratulate yourself when that happens, Nate? Or just wonder where it came from?
I’m not sure if congratulate is the exact word… maybe appreciate that I can be my own person at times. I’m not absolutely tied to the behavior I was shown while I was growing up.
Far to many to list. All I need now is a cane and i’ll be just like my father.
Here’s hoping you don’t ever need a cane.
Thanks Andra 🙂
I am a carbon copy of my mother in build and face. My personality is that of my father. It always surprises us when a granddaughter uses a mannerism that is exactly like her paternal great grandmother who died before she was born. The genes never lie.
Interesting. I often wonder if people I never met were doing things like me 500 years ago…….
My daughter the other day said, “Dad, You’re looking like Papa Carlos. You’re getting those moles on your back.” I screamed out “Nooooo!”
You can always do something about that one…….. 🙂
Time to start thinking about a male name, dont worry, youll look cute anyway 🙂
As somebody commented before, we all secretly love it, I guess.
Im gonna go with something light… my mother hated parties and social events, which is weird cause she worked all the time around those things, but she was doing her own stuff.
Me, I seriously avoid everything but sometimes get caught, and even when its nice and friendly theres only one emotion on the top of in my mind, I wish I was at home playing my games… (happy place).
Maybe parties were work to her, because she had to do them? They’re always work for me. I feel like I’m pretty outgoing, but I’ve come to see myself as more of an introvert. Or maybe I just don’t enjoy small talk. I mean, I’m really good at it. Just ask leading questions and let people talk and all that, but I come away from those things worn out. Playing a game by myself sounds very nice in those moments……. 🙂
She used to work attending rich people parties, convincing clients to invest in art projects and such. Maybe I should do the same for my story blog 😛 but Im awful at it.
Small talk is so life draining, its like watching commercials on tv, yuck.
Forgot to say, great photo!
I’m glad you chose to accost strangers with your stories.
I look like my parents. Both have tempers, which sadly I have inherited.
My father has a temper, Linda. (And my mother’s name is Linda. Ha.)
Reblogged this on The Polar Zone and commented:
This is sooo true!
Thanks much for the reblog!
Your very welcome, great post! Loved it. 🙂
My mother’s empathy, my father’s horrible sense of humour, and his wardrobe – old man shoes… I like them.
Fredrik, I am glad I didn’t inherit my father’s horrendous fashion sense. The man still wear clip on ties…….NO WAY those things will ever be cool. Old man shoes, though. I like them, too.
Ahahah! No time to write, but turning into my father here. In much the same way. Must-write-aboveallelse
And yes, we love your stories, as, I suspect, many love Roy’s
I surely do.
Does your dad still write music, Jessie?
Oddly enough I hear my dad’s voice in mine. And echoes of my grandfather’s. The three of us tried to sing “Bye Bye Blackbird” in harmony one time, though, and it was not good.
Singing in harmony is pretty tough, Kevin. You probably sounded better than you think…..
Even though we are similar to our parents…we are also unique. I enjoy you and your writing no matter where it comes from. 🙂
Which of your parents would be bold with their hair, Lori? I’ve always wondered if that’s all you, or if one of your parents has that sense of daring.
I may be going out on a limb here, but wouldn’t MTM be a little concerned if you sprouted a penis?
More than a little concerned, Jon………
I found myself mimicking my mother’s weird way of compressing her lips when she doesn’t like something, something I swore I would never do. I also got my dad’s hairy legs and knobby knees. Sigh…
I think I got my hair from my dad, too……..Are we related??…….. 🙂
I’m probably thinking the same thing most of your other adoring fans are, but turning into Roy ain’t such a bad thing, minus the penis of course. But even then… I think that would be a first and you would go down in the medical books. Probably wind up on some documentary.
But you have the gift of “being interesting” and it sounds like so much of that is from your dad.
I guess what I’m saying is that it’s nothing but roses from here on out! 🙂
Ha. I never thought anyone would associate Roy with roses. Kudos, Phillip. You’ve made an association that made me very happy. 🙂
My inheritance:
Dad’s complete and utter lack of patience and Mom’s judgmental attitude. Yeah, I’m a real peach. Fighting hard to rewire my brain every day.
You’re in Las Vegas now. (Or almost.) Lots of opportunities (good and bad) to rewire your brain……… I am looking forward to hearing about all of them.
Oh boy, now I have to admit to inheriting my Grandma and my Dad’s compulsion to fill the pantry with multiples of everything so we always have what we need, but then not letting anyone use or eat them because then we might run out of what we need… Not quite hoarding, but not quite normal either. 🙂
I think we are related, Lisa. Really. I am the worst about this, and MTM’s hoarding-of-old-bike-parts-and-holey-underwear tendency does not help me……….
weird, I’m turning into my father, too. I hear myself saying things to my kids that he said to me and my sister. we look alike, except he has 3 1/2″ of height that I SHOULD HAVE DAMN IT!
I think what you have for your father is respect and that’s bounding through in your writing. You’re a kind, sweet soul that cares deeply for things and people. I’m assuming you get that from him.
I hope so, Lance. My father does care a lot about his former Sunday School boys and stuff.
Why didn’t you come to Charleston this summer? (I may be in Hotlanta next Thursday. I will let you know. I can get you together with the other Lance and me.)
nice! money issues and the reunion. we want to come there very badly. Once things slow down for us, schedule wise, then we will.
Reblogged this on AuAu Over.
Thanks for the reblog.
I don’t even want to think about it, darling. The Nile is warm and cozy, thank you very much.
I love the frankness of your writing; how you unashamedly peel back the covers of your own life and are willing to accept what’s there, like it or not.
Acceptance or denial. I don’t know which it is, but I’ll take it.
You are soooo right. I am much like my Dad and married someone that acts an awful lot like my Mom. Why is that?
It’s just what we do, I suspect.
I inherited the big rum nose. The moment I take a swig of anything my nose turns red! It is dastardly! No amount of powder can hide it.
My cheeks turn red. We would be quite a pair, Darcie. We must get together and swig sometime.
We really must! It would be a hoot!
I have my mom’s hands…but I’m a guy.
That’s okay, James.
I am confident you’ll never become “Roy Junior.” 😀
Ha. I’m glad you are, Nancy. I’m not. 🙂
Andra… your blog post titles never cease to amaze me…. until today. LOL…
I am thinking that I inherited a couple of things from my adoptive father. One thing that stuck with me is this. If something is worth doing , it is worth doing right the first time. When I start something I typically do not stop until it is done and I try to do the job right the first time. I have spent a life time trying to unlearn some of the negative parenting habits that both of my parents used on my sister and I. I could write a book on that but I will spare everyone the gory details. LOL I love to read your blog posts EVERY DAY Andra. Hugs
I am glad I amazed you, James. 🙂 🙂 🙂
I am afraid too many… But I am working on them.
My mother complains too much – I don’t think I do, but now I am so overly cautious I try not to complain as much.
My mother has conditioned me to assume the worst in people as far as my job is concerned. For example, as soon as I see someone calling or an email pop up, I am certain it will be a bad exchange. I am actively working to overcome this.
While not as vain as my parents, I do love designer, name brand items. I see it as “collecting” though.
Life is a work-in-process. I don’t think I’ll ever be the person I want to be, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try. You’re a yoga person. You understand this. But that doesn’t mean I’m not hyper-sensitive to some of my lesser qualities……..
the title alone deserves a thumb up, lol 🙂
Ha. Thanks, Carrie.
My sister and I always say that we would remember more of our family stories if we all lived closer together. Families that see each other frequently tend to repeat the same stories and I feel that makes everyone remember them better. I am very much like my Dad and look like him too. Now I just wish he was still with us.
You’ve been spending more time with your sister lately, haven’t you? Do the stories get fresher somehow?
We need to have coffee and catch up.
Left-handedness from mother.
MTM is a lefty also.
Well Andra, you know I’m away and limiting my screen time, but I could not ignore the penis word on my reader! I happen to be near a little town that sells s@@ toys so the penis thing is “possible” and I could help you with your extra pounds since I seem to be really good at gaining. 😉
That’s me. Breaking into your vacation so that you can say, “Damn. I can eat this extra plate of fried clams, because they’re for ANDRA, and she LOVES THEM, and down there in The South, she can’t really get them, so I’m going to eat them FOR HER.”
Accosted? Pshaw!
I inherited my mother’s streak of shocking white hair in the center of my head, and my father’s ridiculously bad feet – I have the feet of an 80 year-old!
Speaking of white hair………..I started greying in my teens, because of Roy. I don’t even want to know that situation now. I go to hair therapy every four weeks to keep from finding out.
You sucked me in with “penis” and then made me laugh . . . I was thinking just this morning about my dear departed dad and how much I take after him in my sense of humor and rambling story-telling habits. Funny!
Those are both good things. A real tribute to him.
I am most definitely my father’s daugher – stubborn, rebellious, a story teller and social butterfly.! Luckily, I look like my mom though 🙂
That might be the best of both, though.
You are too kind. I am sure that they bot could have done without my rebellious teen years.! Btw – great blog title and photo 🙂
Oh dear. I am vain like my dad and outspoken like my mom. But, I’m also myself even though I see the beginning of Mom’s chipmunk cheeks staring back at me every morning. However, it’s not all bad. My folks were talented artists, and I strive to keep up the tradition. Wish me luck!!
Luck, Nancy! We have to take the good with the middling. I know. It’s the deal.
Personality wise – it depends on the day…looks, probably mommy dearest, which is not a bad things since she looks young for her age.
It is never, ever bad to inherit young genes. I am lucky in that both my parents look young for their ages.
I would say that you were born for just this particular time when you can so readily express yourself with all your talent and have an audience that stretches across the world–and we do voluntarily come to meet with you every day. 🙂
The older I get the more I also realize my family traits. I prefer to hone in on the more positive aspects, but I can be a little passive aggressive. I got a double dose of that one. 🙂 Throw in my father’s sarcastic wit–I’ve had therapy. It only comes out when I’m really stressed. LOL!
I think sarcastic wit is incredibly funny, Debra. MTM has it. It was one of the things I fell for right away, even when it was directed at me.
I got my Dad’s good hair, his great skin, and his lousy kidneys. And most of his other health problems, as well. But hey, I’m a silver fox with great skin!
I’m waiting for which heart ailment I’m going to inherit, Tammy. But I got good skin, too. 🙂
Well, then, we’ll be good-looking corpses someday, won’t we? 😉
Apparently my face screws up the same way as my father’s when I’m angry : It’s not so bad to turn into our parents sometimes, but I’d rather not have that trait.
That’s one of those things that’s instantaneous, isn’t it? Like, how does one ever break that habit?
My Mum tells me when I’m angry i look like my Father. I don’t think that’s a good thing. There are things i catch myself doing all the time and i think, “I’m turning into my mother! Noooo!”
I think we all have those moments, Laura. Reading these comments has been a real comfort to me. 🙂
We booked our tickets to Australia. I now have dates. As soon as we can sit down and plot out an itinerary, I’ll let you know where we’ll be. I’d love to try to get to you.
Awesome! That would be fantastic 🙂
omg, i can only imagine how scary this epiphany was for you, isn’t that a child’s worst fear – that they should turn into their parents ?!
It always happens, though. The more we don’t want it, the more it happens.
…okay, if it will make you feel better 😉 muahahaha (sorry couldn’t help it!)
I think I eat like my mom…
and I can get pretty drama queen (thankfully in my head and not exhibited outward for the world to see…except maybe in some of my blog posts…which sounds so whiny!) like my mom and dad…but then again we *are* Sri Lankan Tamils…so being drama queen-ish is kinda given..lol.
Are you in Sri Lanka or Singapore, Shree? (For some reason, I thought Singapore.) We have a Rotary request for a trip to Sri Lanka right now, and I’d really love to try to make it happen.
I’m in Malaysia 🙂 That’s the country above Singapore and I have a strong feeling the butt of jokes around the news circuit! 😛 The country where the Prime Minister hauled the Opposition leader to court on the charge of sodomy…twice. LOL! (Well, it was either a LOL or to cry)
I’ve never been to Sri Lanka!! Grandparents paternal and maternal came from Sri Lanka (brought by the British at the time) to Malaysia and settled here 🙂
I have heard that it’s a beautiful country though!
Andra – have you developed a taste for firearms yet? If yes, time to get worried!
Emphatically NOT!! My parents know how to use their weapons, but still…….
I don’t believe you should ever shut off the story-spigot 🙂 But then I’m just some unknown blaffer.
impatience with self from my dad, but passion for things and people too, so the inheritance of impatience is worth getting the other great things. I miss him. Glad I kept his nameThank you for this post.
Your transformation will never be complete… I hope. Anyway, I told you that just because you asked me to. Don’t worry so much about being verbose. I think you were positively terse in this post.
I think this is also one of my daughter’s worst nightmares. She uses the phrase “I am my father’s daughter” both as a cudgel and a caress.
So I woke up this morning thinking I was my own person, but after looking at the person in the mirror I realized I’m the persona of the man that I swore I wouldn’t be, yet curiously I know I’m me. Who he was and who I am can not be changed, no I’m a different man. Thanks for reminding thou an apple may not fall from the tree, that I’m truly me.
We all have to be true to ourselves, in spite of our coding. 🙂
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