Some years ago, I realized something that can be rather shocking: I was gradually turning into my father. (When did you have that realization? Were you shocked?) Don't get me wrong--my father, who has gone to his reward, is a fine man, someone I'm proud to be associated with. But one grows up aiming to be ones own man. Further, in my own case -- and this is true for many of us -- I remember so many odd habits and foibles of my father that we all kidded him about; so the shock came when, one after another, these were habits I discovered in myself!
It hit me when I caught myself slapping my hands together and rubbing them, just as dad always did; then the way I cleared my throat; then how I used dusty old words like "trousers." I was well along in the transformation when I discovered that I was sneezing loudly, in almost the same fashion that always exasperated my late mother.
But there was one step I was sure I'd never take. Until this morning. I reheated day-old coffee in the microwave. (My excuse is I ran out of coffee.)
Actually, I'm probably kidding myself--my dad lived to 97; I'm 45. I've got a lot of ground to cover.
I only hope I can acquire all his virtues so completely.