Filling in the Gaps

I recently found out that my “wisdom hairs” (euphemism for “premature white hairs”) are from my mom. I used to think they were occasional stress hairs until this year, when I a field of them sprouted in the middle of my head. (They are currently strategically covered up.) I had no idea that mom had premature white hairs before she turned 30. (Of course when I asked bro if he knew, he answered, “Of course. Don’t you remember?”) So that was yet another genetic/hereditary mystery “solved.”

I also just “solved” another curiosity. More than half of my family consists of many great communicators an orators, and unfortunately, I am not one of them. However, I do think I have a fairly good sense of picking up on pragmatics – picking up on the unspoken language, reading social cues, filling in the gaps, or “reading between the lines.” After listening to Gramma retell her extensive conversations with her gardener, I deduced that my intuitive pragmatics skills must be inherited from Gramma. Gramma and her gardener both speak English as a second (or third or fourth) language, so I am always in awe and amazement when Gramma elaborately retells her conversations with her gardener.

I was just looking out through the breakfast nook window, admiring gramma’s lovely rose garden, and I thought about one of the many conversations she had with her gardener. Last night, during our walk, she told Bro and I about the gardener and her rose gardens. Over the course of several weeks, Gramma and her gardener have become homies. She also taught him how to prune her many rose bushes the “right” way (i.e., must cut at a slant, not too high and not too low, avoid cutting buds, cut at the base under certain conditions). Mind you, Gramma has roses everywhere. She has a lovely rose garden in the front yard, rose “trees” surrounding the perimeter of her corner house front yard, and a rose garden in her backyard. She has definitely cultivated my appreciation for roses. The gardener joked with Gramma that her husband must have given her many roses in their lifetime, as he visually surveyed the plethora of roses around the yard. (Gramma laughed, but I don’t think she told him that her husband never gave her a single rose. Chalk it up to a conservative culture that didn’t typically engage in public acts of love. Only in the recent years has Gramma been saying, “I lov-a you!” to her grandchildren. It’s awesome.)

(I semi-digress.) When Gramma told us story after story about her conversations with her gardener, I kept commenting to Bro, “Isn’t it amazing that Gramma and the gardener could understand each other and carry on such extensive conversations?” (I probably didn’t comment that effectively and eloquently.)

I have Gramma to partially thank for passing along an inherent skill that is so pertinent in my line of work.

P.S. Mystery #3: I also get my poor sleeping habits from Gramma...