Inheritance

All of my male, many of my female relatives were deceased at my current age. Heart diesease ran in the family. But for some hard living circumstances and poor life choices were all contributory.

I was lucky to inherit my mother’s strong heart. That, along with giving up my youthful bad habits, probably contributed to my living to a healthy older age. The questions of what they would have been doing if they had lived have given me the opportunity for thought.

My father and some of his Merchant Marine buddies had purchased an old Nayy gig. At the time of his death, they were busy restoring it for future offshore adventures—his threats of going “looking for a ship” coming true. If in a minor sense. Having had adventures with him knocking around boatyards, I have no trouble seeing him at the coffee pot at a friend’s boatyard. The discussion might be about the lines on a Tahiti Ketch. Talks about the lines of a boat ( or a woman) often offer engagement for seamen. And if it gets a bit garrulous, that’s OK. It’s part of the tradition of telling sea stories.

My uncle shared my passion for gardening. In his later years, he had a small landscaping company – Leonardo’s Masterpiece. I sometimes wonder if He inspires me in my efforts. “Let’s delete that poorly designed flower bed and add some native plants in the front.”

Now, my mother is a more challenging read. She censured all mention of her family background. She kept much private. But it was from her that I developed literary interests and the ability to lose myself in books happily.

Both my parents grew up in New York City. From both of them, I inherited a New Yorker’s critical eye. From my father the ability to scan a street and pick out the con artists, dips, common thieves, and druggies. My mother taught me a subtler approach to seeing through people’s self-presentation in workplaces and living rooms. They rapidly pointed out my errors if I made a bad read of a person or situation. I was always a bit too soft and too forgiving for them. But they had lived through much more trying times.

We are not the simple sum of our parts. Nor are we reflections of our parents. We grow into and develop into unique individuals. However, there can be a sort of bricolage construction method in which we blend our unique features with what we have learned through primacy. I’m particularly pleased with my results, and consider it to be sort of garden. The garden needs encouragement and care. And we can actively enjoy it. Or we can quietly sit and appreciate how we have curated the parts into a whole.