I’m pretty different than my parents were. They were big readers. They probably read 4-5 hours a night. And I always say I like to read, but truth is I don’t read that much. And especially now, I’ll get caught up on things on the internet. They were also relatively quiet, although my father had a good sense of humor. They were pretty organized. And I’m pretty impulsive and have difficulties staying organized. I don’t read that much. I was louder than they were. I was too much.
It was something that I had to come to terms with. I still struggle with a lot of those things and feel pretty bad about them, but the similarities are basically they were pretty ethical, kind people. They weren’t active in civil rights but they imbued me a certain feeling of responsibility and looking at the inequities in life.
They were great travelers and my father was such a researcher. He would research a trip for nine months. And now I struggle to do any traveling because whenever I think about it, I get overwhelmed at the thought of the amount of research I should do, even if intellectually I know that I don’t have to do it, it’s hard to break away from what part of my brain feels is the “right way” to do it.