Inheritance - 009
“Both Worlds” photograph by Cecilia Paredes
Hey {Friend},
I. Just Like Me
A few weeks ago, as I was giving Golda her nightly bath, I was washing her ears. As my fingers cleaned out the folds and crevices, something surprising became clear. These were my ears. I recognize the feeling of the lobe and the thickness of the outer edge; the way that dirt gets caught in that area in the dip along the inner crease.
It is a strange realization for me because I’ve never thought she looks like me. But for the first time, I notice that she’s inheriting things from me (ears included).
Inheritance is more than genetics. Or money. We inherit all the gifts and all the flaws that our parents and ancestors had. Artistic or musical abilities. High cholesterol. Commitment and risk tolerance. Humor. Style. Even the ability to fall asleep anywhere.
This month, I’m intrigued by inheritance– beyond the blue eyes and crooked teeth. Nature or nurture, it doesn’t matter because we are just like our parents and families and we are influenced by our ancestors–whether we like it or not. The blessings and the curses, the wealth and the health. Our sources of pride and centers of embarrassment.
Let’s look deeper. . .
Illustration by Angela An
II. Inherited Scars
In second grade, my friend Jeff and I went McDonald’s with his babysitter. “I’m STAAARVING,” I said, “I’m gunna get a triple cheeseburger. AND fries.” And so I did. I unwrapped the paper and took that first bite– melty, meaty, buttery. Mmmmm! And I vividly remember that my 40 pound, 7 year-old self made a huge mistake. It was too much. I made it about 4 bites in before feeling sick. I went to the bathroom, drank water, breathed deeply. I couldn’t do it. Somehow, 40 minutes of struggle later, I took the last bite of that burger and only barely managed to not throw up.
My wife calls me out on my relationship to food–that I have to finish what’s on my plate, especially if someone else has cooked or treated me to a meal. That belief and behavior is typical of most ethnic immigrant families (not just Jewish) food is love; don’t waste it. The other root of this belief is a family memory of depression-era poverty and wartime scarcity. That feeling is so deeply seeded in my grandparents and was passed to my mother and down to me.
I have inherited the scars of my grandparents. And so have you.
This is obviously bigger than just food. The scars of the Holocaust are still present in my family and people: I sometimes fear of sharing that I’m Jewish and feel a desire to assimilate. The scars of war are real: my dad taught my brother and I to never point any toy or object at each other, for fear that it would one day be a gun.
There are family scars of addiction that may never heal. Scars of Disease. Poverty. Abuse. Jim Crow America. And on and on.
We all have scars. Maybe our generation’s scars are not as intense as a draft, disease, Holocaust. But we have scars of heartbreak and loss. Of corrupt wars and mass shootings and school massacres. Of terrorism. We have scars of hearing the stories and seeing photos of refugees. Witnessing intolerance and hatred.
Every generation tries to teach their children the lessons they wish they knew. They try and prevent their own shortcomings– the fears and things they don’t like about themselves– in their children. Parents try and heal their own scars by shielding and strengthening their children from threats and dangers.
As a parent, I’m guilty of it, too.
I’ve come to accept that even the best-intentioned, well-adapted parents will fuck up their kid in some way. Everyone inherits scars of some kind. This is human and part of the experience of being alive.
The way I see it, there are two ways to look at these scars. On one hand, we can hide them. We can deny that we believe something and hate ourselves for our behavior. We can resent our parents for teaching us and begrudge our grandparents for passing down their bad genes. We can distance ourselves from our families and hide from those scars.
On the other hand, scars need healing. Healing requires work: first identifying and becoming aware of the scars. Working through the stories and rewiring our reaction to the same triggers. Discomfort over time can lead to comfort. With help, we can acknowledge and show off the scars we have until disgust leads to embarrassment leads to acceptance leads to pride. Eventually, we can be proud of what we have inherited.
“See this? I got this from my mom. And her from her mom, and grandmother before her.
And we are all the same.”
Painting by Mike Monteiro
III. Legacy
In 1922 in central Ukraine, sixteen year-old Avraham packed up and left the small town of Berestechko, to move to Jerusalem. For decades to follow, he helped physically and spiritually build the state of Israel where he had five children and started a business that is still running.
26 years after the state of Israel was declared independent, Avraham's youngest son Dov left Jerusalem at 22. He moved to Chicago where he went to college, got his masters degree, and met his wife. He had two children and started a business that is still running.
29 years after Dov's arrival, his son turned 18 and left his home in Chicago. He packed up his belongings to go to college and eventually started a family and a business in New York.
That’s me! I'm following a line of Kahana men who have left their homes to start new lives, new businesses, and new families in new cities. I have inherited the Kahana name and with it, the Kahana story.
Generation after generation, stories repeat themselves. Our family names carry these stories and are handed down to us– stories of heroism and cowardice, service and sacrifice, of epic journeys and deep-rooted community. We also carry the legacy of our namesakes, our parents hoping that we will inherit their positive qualities and emulate the lives of the relatives after whom we are named.
We inherit our family's legacy.
Maybe we will choose to repeat the stories of our grandparents. Or maybe we will actively choose to stray from the path and find our own way.
Either way, we are the latest link in a chain of stories that will continue long beyond our lifetime.
In the last handful of years, I’ve struggled with my identity, specifically around work. What do I do? What’s my purpose? What do I call myself? What has helped me is reminding myself that my identity is not only in my work but also in my name. I am part of my family and I continue to build my family’s story.
Knowing about what our parents, grandparents and great-grandparents did in their lives can help illuminate our own stories and paths.
Stories repeat.
Legacy continues.
“Hanging Family History” 2000 years of family history by Valerie Atkisson
IV. The World
Before my first job interview, I remember my dad telling me to iron my shirt and clean my fingernails. My mom reviewed my resume and asked me sample interview questions. Most of us have gotten advice from our parents about jobbing, dating, going to school, social pressure, and countless other things.
We get advice from our parents because we inherit their world.
The world of democracy and universities. Of museums and art and culture. That’s ours because of our parents. Equally, we get the climate change, inequality, and corruption that was established long before we came into the world. That’s part of the world they’ve left for us too.
But is it?
I can’t shake the idea that the world we live in is fundamentally different than the one our parents lived in at our age. And our children are living in a different world from ours.
Dramatic events have shifted our world and our worldviews. Our generation might be the first where advice from our parents isn’t necessarily helpful. Career planning is totally different than it was in the 70s and 80s. Dating has different rules. Family living. Laws. Drugs. Travel. Political involvement. Investing and retirement. Nearly everything.
We can’t just learn from their mistakes because we are living in a different world than theirs.
I remember my dad telling me that when he started listening to The Beatles, his parents didn’t understand the “yah yah yahs" and the haircuts. It’s a repeated story that every generation pushes back and rejects the world their parents gave them.
Maybe this is normal. That every generation rejects the world they were given. Maybe this is a part of a cycle, just a little more dramatic than previous rejections. That maybe this trend will even out because fundamentally humans are humans and we’re all trending towards the same patterns of life.
Or maybe this is something new. A new normal where every generation from here forward is forced to create their own rules and systems to survive. Because the advice and lessons from their parents doesn’t apply to their world anymore.
I still can’t tell.
What do you think?
“Genetic Family Portraits” photo collages of mother/daughter and father/son by Ulric Colette
V. Thank You
As always, thanks for perusing the fridge. I hope you found something new to think about and see in a new way.
If you disagree, have questions, comments, or further references to share, just respond.
I’m deeply grateful to have you.
Until the next one,
Jake
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