I was 4 years old the first time I remember seeing my father.
Mom and I were shopping at the mall and she stopped to talk with a couple. The woman had a toddler in her arms. As they said their goodbyes, the man asked if I’d like to go out for ice cream with him some time. When they turned away, my mother asked “Do you know who that was?” I said no. “That was your father.”
It was years before I realized the toddler with him must have been my brother.
I never did get that ice cream. Everything I know of my heritage, my roots, comes from Mom’s side of the family. But I’ve seen firsthand how the DNA of our ancestors carries on in our blood. Mom eventually remarried and I have 3 other brothers. One of them grew up to look exactly like my maternal grandfather.
Science and psychology are still at war over which factor has the most influence on who we become and how we act. Is it heredity or environment? Nature or nurture? Let’s face it, every parent has probably watched their child’s behavior at some point, then turned to the spouse and said “Did you see THAT? That is definitely from your side of the family!”
When my youngest boy built a still in our basement and manufactured ethanol for his senior project last year, I said “You haven’t made lawn mower fuel, son. That’s moonshine! I guess you’re following the family heritage.” Then I told him the story of how his grandmother spent a night in jail as a baby. Great Grandma got busted for making homemade brew for Great Grandpa during Prohibition. They hauled her off to jail, baby at her breast, and made my Mom an ex-con before she was out of diapers.
My middle son is now the proud father of a beautiful little girl. This year I gave him an old wooden trunk. In it, I had saved all the Tarzan books he collected as a boy, along with the threadbare teddy bear he slept with every night. When I was a little girl, that old trunk was my toy box. Before that, my mother and aunt used it to store their old prom dresses. And many many years before that, my great-great grandmother packed everything she owned into it and got on a boat, leaving her family and her home behind to follow her dream of a better life in America.
Some day, I’ll tell my newest grandchild all the family stories that are packed into that old wooden trunk her daddy has. And she’ll learn about her Roots.
This Year I'm Giving Gifts From My Soul For the 12 Days of Christmas - Day 1: Laughter
This Year I'm Giving Gifts From My Soul For the 12 Days of Christmas - Day 2: Attention
This Year I'm Giving Gifts From My Soul For the 12 Days of Christmas - Day 3: Creativity
This Year I'm Giving Gifts From My Soul For the 12 Days of Christmas - Day 4: Forgiveness
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