Family Differences

Over my lifetime I have always believed that I was an obedient and pliable son therefore I was a clone of my father (other than I was six inches taller and forty pounds heavier). I always viewed my mother as a saint after raising one nearly perfect son and three difficult and challenging daughters, so I tried to follow her advice explicitly which paid dividends for me (obviously I was her favorite son).


With this introduction you are probably wondering what I’m going to write about.  Well, the answer is simple. I’m wondering that too.


Not too long ago I was asked if I am very different from my parents and if so, how? Of course, I am a prototype of their teaching, love, trust, respect, and discipline but what sameness or difference do we share?


After much thought, deliberation, and pensive meditation I believe I am ready to answer this question. First, and foremost, I am who I am today because of them. Second, they allowed me to make mistakes and then to grow from them. Third, our differences made me stronger as I plodded my way through my young life. Sometimes I made a choice that was difficult for my parents to understand, but they allowed me to make it and they supported me. 


 Of course, we had our disagreements just like every family but somehow, they were resolved even if my opinion or theirs didn’t change. It was okay to disagree. That didn’t mean that it was easy or without pushback from them. 


My dad was a humble man full of wisdom and common sense and he taught me by example as well as with his words. One of the greatest lessons I learned from him was to love and respect my mother. His example taught me how to love and respect and treat two wives (my first wife passed away from breast cancer after nearly 35 years together).


Mom was always there for me, and she could laugh with me or cry with me. She could comfort me when I needed comfort, or she could discipline me when it was necessary. It didn’t matter because I knew I was loved. 


The fact is, in many ways I am very different from my parents. To be exactly like them would destroy something special that we shared in common, our respect for each other. Our differences didn’t harm our relationship but rather strengthened it. Below I have chosen to describe a few differences between my parents and me.

1. If my dad was hungry before bed, I remember him enjoying a bowl of bread and milk with a little bit of sugar added. I’m sure I tried this delicacy, but I never developed a taste for it and now I find it totally unappetizing and don’t really fancy trying it again. 

2. My dad would put sugar on his tomatoes while my mom would add salt to hers. After trying both and letting the flavor saver on my tongue I decided to follow my mom’s choice, as did two of my sisters. One sister followed Dad and I believe she still puts sugar on her tomatoes.

3. A third difference between my dad and me was that he was always calm and deliberate in his actions and I don’t ever remember him losing control of his emotions. On many occasions I thought about following his example of calmness and deliberation but then something would usually happen, and a little anger would creep into the situation. A case in point was when I took my oldest son to the cake equipment store to buy supplies for his mother and one of the owners acted jerky towards me and I let my mouth run because I was angry. I became a jerk and got chased out of the store. My father would never let a situation like this get so far out of control.

4. My mom used to save the grease after frying something for dinner. While it was still warm, she would pour it into an empty shortening can and save it until she had enough and then she would ask Grandma Call to help her make soap with it. They would spend what seemed like an entire morning making this old pioneer soap. I think it was laundry soap. I never believed in making my own soap, so I guess this is a good example of being different from my mother.

5. One thing I wholly adopted and endorsed from my mother was her most wonderful and delicious homemade bread. It tasted so good, and I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard some kids making fun of my homemade bread sandwiches. They tried to convince me that this type of bread was not very good, and I should ask my mother to buy Wonder Bread. I always assumed that these people had never tasted homemade bread.

6. One of the most painful experiences I ever had with my mother involved a spontaneous trip to downtown Salt Lake City with her sister, Aunt Melba, her two daughters, and my two sisters (Syd was not born yet). I went along with this outing under protest, and I still remember the social, emotional, and gut-wrenching pain I experienced. What started out as a trip to the movies ended with two women and four girls oohing and awing and dreaming about clothes on store mannequins while one cranky boy sulked and felt sorry for himself as we went window shopping from store-to-store. I never understood its value and I never appreciated such a silly activity and quite possibly I never will. 

There you have it, folks, my favorite lifetime differences from my parents. Do I regret not adopting these things? Yes! I regret not being more like my father when it comes to maintaining better self-control and I regret not learning to bake bread like my mother. Other than these two I have no regrets being different from my parents and I know that my parents would not want it any other way.


Let’s teach our children the value of being independent, making our own decisions, and then learning how to live with them.

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Happy Failing Forward,