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Many years ago, I gave up asking my father "Where did you get this?". I used to ask it a lot, and he could rarely remember where any given object came from. "It was your mother's" was a frequent enough answer, and once or twice I got "Scotland", or "We were given it by someone." Mostly, though, he didn't know, and that used to annoy me. I could remember where every single thing I owned came from, where I'd got it, and even how much I'd paid for it in many cases.
A few minutes ago, I was straightening a rug on the couch downstairs, and I looked at it and wondered; where did we get this? when? And I have no idea, just as I've no idea where and when a good half dozen other objects in the sittingroom came from, or when.
I heard my father's voice on the answering machine today, and genuinely thought for a second I'd accidentally called my own mobile. I sit in exactly the same posture as he does, and I can pick my brother out of a crowd at two blocks from the way he walks - just like my father. I can't always distinguish between my middle brother or my father on the phone.
I wonder how much of it is in the blood, and how much is learned.
A few minutes ago, I was straightening a rug on the couch downstairs, and I looked at it and wondered; where did we get this? when? And I have no idea, just as I've no idea where and when a good half dozen other objects in the sittingroom came from, or when.
I heard my father's voice on the answering machine today, and genuinely thought for a second I'd accidentally called my own mobile. I sit in exactly the same posture as he does, and I can pick my brother out of a crowd at two blocks from the way he walks - just like my father. I can't always distinguish between my middle brother or my father on the phone.
I wonder how much of it is in the blood, and how much is learned.