Musings on Influences in My Life: Why I Am Who I Am Today

I recently had Covid, and through-out my Isolation period, I found myself in an introspective mood. Everyone is unique of course, but certain personal characteristics have roots in genetics that are innate. Other outside events, over which we have little control, have an even greater impact on who we are and why. Physically, I am vertically challenged, but with a Dad of five foot seven, a Mother of five feet four, and a great aunt of four feet 10 inches, it is pretty obvious that the “short” gene was dominant in me. Happy was the day when I reached nearly four feet eleven inches! As it turned out, that was also the maximum height I would ever see. Today, in my mid eighties, I could probably qualify as a midget, having shrunk to a ridiculous four feet seven. (Disclaimer: I understand the word midget is no longer an acceptable term as it is considered offensive. The p.c. word is now “Short Person”.) My husband was not tall-around five feet seven. Two of my daughters are a very petite five feet and my other two children are certainly not tall. I assured my son when he was about 11 and bemoaning the fact that he was short, that he would indeed grow several more inches but if he turned out to be six foot, then the only plausible explanation would be that someone switched babies on me in the hospital nursery! Interestingly, I was only upset once with my diminutive size—in kindergarten, I as always the “baby” or “child” when one was called for, but from then on, I never fretted over my height. The one genetic trait that upset me most of my life, was inheriting my paternal grandmother’s hair, or lack of it. She was from England, with very fair skin, and thin, straight, fine hair. In her later years her white hair was sparse and her pink scalp was well displayed. Alas, that was to be my fate also. Having gone thru’ many hair remedies like perms, “frostings”, foil wraps, and oil treatments- and trying out many styles, and colors during my lifetime, I finally accepted the final solution: I wear a wig! (Oh to have had the wisdom and confidence to have done that years ago!) I am not sure if being born with a sense of humor is really a genetic trait, but thank goodness I have one! The maternal side of my family all had a wonderful sense of humor—as well as a liking for the “medicinal” properties of a good bottle of spirits! Their love of life and wit were well known. My husband came from an Irish background with similar traits— no doubt this had a great impact on our compatibility! So much of life is really absurd when one muses upon it; I cannot imagine not being able to laugh at ones-self or taking things too seriously. (There are exceptions of course, as I am pretty upset right now with both of our political parties and the backward trend of SCOTUS . Perhaps I need another sip of the spirits!) Economic circumstances also played a major role in my development. My father was a chemist and thus remained employed throughout the Depression and WW2 years. We learned to conserve and repair what we had, took good care of any new clothing, donated outgrown ones, gave freely to those less fortunate, helped feed those who had no regular income. After the war, when wage and price controls were lifted and rationing was over, we had a comfortable life. Gone was the “party-line” phone—replaced with a private line and eventually the self dialed rotary phone; new furnishings, appliances, and electronic wonders appeared in all the rooms; a tv in a monstrous cabinet with an eight inch round screen graced our living room by 1949; a beautiful piano was purchased for my father’s enjoyment and both my sister and I took piano lessens; a completely new designed car (a Studebaker) replaced the old but reliable 1937 Plymouth sedan; we travelled to nearby states and into Canada for summer vacations. I never experienced any real financial or other hardships during those years of youth. Things changed very abruptly after I entered my teens, when my forty-six year old father died suddenly from complications from a choking incident, one week before my sister’s well-planned wedding. There was no will and all property and assets were in his name only. Suffice to say I was deeply affected by his loss as I had been a “Daddy’s girl” and he had been my nurturing parent. Our financial situation changed and I watched as my Mother, a contented housewife for over twenty years, enrolled in a business school at the age of 42, and upon graduation worked in the ordering department of the local carpet company until she retired twenty years later. She was able to keep the home I had always known but the days of having discretionary spending money were over. I did a great deal of baby sitting and acted as an au pair summers to have spending money. I was an excellent student and given a scholarship to study nursing which I happily accepted though I longed to be a teacher. Mother constantly impressed upon me the need to have a career to fall back on, to become independent, to be aware of finances, and of life outside of the home. (Years later, my husband used to joke that I had succeeded in those areas well beyond her expectations!) None-the-less, it was during those high school years, when I learned to conquer death, to affirm life, to be thankful for the happy years, to accept unexpected changes and move on. Those lessons served me well as a young adult working as a registered nurse and even more-so in my married life, when I had to face the death of a newborn son; the accidental death of a vivacious nearly 13 year old granddaughter; the absurd circumstances of my mother’s sudden collapse and eventual death when we were in an Atlantic City casino on a day trip; and the death of my beloved husband after sharing 59 years of our lives. Last but not least, are the people who have impacted, enriched and broadened my outlook. I have to single out the presence of “Aunt Carrie and Uncle Joe.” They were a childless couple that moved next door to us when I was about three. Talk about indulging and spoiling a child—Auntie Mame paled beside them! They were a presence in my life until they died. I was simply accepted by them no matter what! She would indulge me in all my requests to play, never mind doing the housework, or having other things more important to do. If I said I wanted to play “Opera” we did—that meant singing every utterance out of our mouths. If I wanted to play “wedding” she did everything—from putting an old lace curtain around me as a wedding dress, playing “Here Comes the Bride” by humming it on a comb covered with a tissue, became the minister who pronounced me married, and was the guest who said “what a beautiful bride.” My sole job was simply to Be the Bride! I could not stand eating tomatoes at home, but when she would slice a tomato from her garden and place it on a slice of bread dripping in mayonnaise, I loved it! (Perhaps in hindsight the reason for that was that my family used Miracle Whip, not Hellman’s mayo.) Uncle Joe was an insurance agent and heavily involved in the politics of my hometown, eventually becoming Mayor. When I was a kid, he got me two free tickets every season for the weekend home baseball games. The team was part of a farm club for the NY Yankees and several players did go on to play for them. Even when I was working as an RN before marriage, he would secure decent tickets for me and a friend to see such Broadway plays in NYC as My Fair Lady and The Music Man with the original casts. They were witnesses at my marriage and Godparents for our firstborn. Did I mention that before she became a housewife, she had been a Nurse? Talk about influencing a life! From kindergarten to being a senior in high school, to roommates and friends at Albany Medical Center, to people all across the country and overseas with my beloved when he was on active duty, to returning to the working world after years of being “at home”, I have never been without wonderful friends. We shared each others sorrows and joys, encouraged and boosted each other throughout all the stages of our lives, had great fun and laughter together, and each had a positive influence on me. Despite coming from different parts of the country, different ethnic groups, different religions, and having different outlooks and political beliefs, we always found commonality, respect and developed bonds that enriched me. I do believe I am who I am because of all of the above. But then, aren’t we all influenced by our genes, families, friends, and life experiences? Who are YOU?