First post

Picture the year 1955. A man with his wartime Navy service behind him and now with three children at home decides that the lessons he has learned in his life – and the lessons he is continuing to learn – may be useful to other people… or at least might entertain them. He is a clever man and a creative man and so, of course, he thinks “blog.” He chooses a theme based on thinking over all he has seen. He names it, for names are very important, “Reflected Glances.” Then he sits down to nap until the personal computer can be invented.

My father inherited that blog in 1980, when his Army service was behind him and he had, partly because of four children of his own at home, many life lessons worth sharing. Life intrudes, though, and so that blank 25-year-old blog became a blank 50-year-old blog in his hands. He did sign “I. J.” on the first page of the blog in about 1992. That is a start… even if no one knows what it means.

Hi! I have inherited this blog from my father and his father before him. For the past four years I have carried on the family tradition of carting around a blog eternally pregnant with undelivered ideas. Then yesterday, as I was up on my roof taking down the festive Christmas lights and putting up the radiant New Year’s lights – well, falling off it, actually – it occurred to me that I could go my own way and actually use the blog. As my head struck the mucky ground, I realized that what I really wanted to do with my life is to experience the greatest pleasure known to man: making people laugh by telling stories about my kids. Later, as I stood in the shower washing the mud from my hair, I started thinking about what to write.

“Inheritance shall be my first theme” I decided and so it shall be.

The first thing we inherit is our appearance. “She has your eyes!” “Oh, look, that is exactly Grandpa’s chin.” “Dear Lord, she got her father’s nose.” When someone new is born, everyone wants to know who he or she looks like. Me, I have always looked like my Dad. It’s inescapable. From birth he trained me to answer the question, “Why are you so good looking?” with “because I look like my Daddy.” The good news is that I can see what I’ll look like at any age just by looking at a picture of him at the same age.

But we inherit so many other things. Mannerisms, ways of speaking, even thought patterns.

Nature vs. nurture isn’t something I want to debate here.

When I was born, I had club feet and the doctors said that can be inherited. When my younger brother was born 21 months later, my parents were frantic with “How are his feet?” questions, not realizing the boy wasn’t yet breathing on his own. Neither of my sisters had foot problems at birth, either, but I do have a nephew with club feet. It must be inherited, but from where? My oldest son was born with hip displaysia and the doctors asked about family history. None. My youngest son developed epilepsy this past summer and the doctors wanted to know if it ran in our family. Not really. Those boys have started new things that their kids can inherit. Add that to the pile, next to the creativity, high blood pressure, various cancers, and (for many) great longevity. We inherit so many little gifts from those who came before us. Like modern technology. Like mountains of trash. Like antibiotics and antibiotic-resistant bacteria.

My grandfather was a great problem solver. My youngest son has inherited that same skill. It’s hard to see what path he’ll take with that gift: right now the race seems about even between (1) helping people and animals (especially dogs and giraffes) and (2) making stuff explode.

I think I have a great deal of empathy (though I’m sensing that it’ll take more than a direct statement to convince you of that). My oldest son has inherited that same empathy to the point that some books are painful for him to read or hear. When a favorite character decides to lie or cheat, my boy will leave the room. He can’t stand to have those thoughts in his head. But he has found another creative use for his gift: with a few well-chosen words he can bring his brother and sister to tears. He can enrage his mother. He can see into our heads and press the best buttons. So even if we inherit the same tools, we may do different things with it. Like the guys from the bible who were handed golden coins, we can use what we have to make great things, or we can bury them and keep them safe. I’m digging up my writing skill (such as it is) so that it can shine… or at least not get all moldy.

Remember the story of Martha and Mary? Martha wanted Mary to come help her prepare food for the gathering, but Mary wanted to be part of all that was happening. I suspect my Mom descends directly from Martha. My brother, sisters, and I all inherited that from her. My spouse tells me (I’m told that “wife” is terribly gender-specific) I make a good drudge. Yep, Martha and me both. I’m going to try to devote some time to this blog thing, even if it means that some of my little chores go undone. I’m going to try to be a little more like Mary, at least a couple times a month.

So, I’m going to take up this blog I inherited and do my best with it. And when I fall or end up tomato-spattered (virtually, of course), I plan to keep trudging along. I’m going to try to do something useful with this blog. Or entertaining. Maybe both. So stand back, life, I’ve got stuff to do.