My father was an intellectual, so very early on I was exposed to concepts and ideas about history, religion, politics, and philosophy. I didn’t know any different and perhaps assumed that everybody had the same type of experience. It wasn’t until I got older that I realized that not everyone had these types of discussions over dinner.
My mother brought my father down to size with her aptitude for being in tune with people and worked as a foil for his obtuseness in not realizing he was talking above someone’s head, and weren’t listening but instead politely nodding. My mother was also the person I could turn to when the world had hurt me.
That duality I think exists in me and while I still have some frustration regarding how things might have been, I thank that dichotomy of influence for keeping me afloat during the most turbulent of times.