My Own Man

by Aaron Baird

It's an inevitable fact of meeting my parents, and one that no one seem to ever tire of pointing out to me: I am an exact duplicate of my father. At every family gathering for the past ten years, no less than three people have felt compelled to inform me of this without fail. My father's own parents can't distinguish our voices over the telephone. I'm not saying that I'm ashamed of this or that I would change anything about either of us, but I am definitely not my father.

He was born on August 8, 1952, the youngest in a family of four. His father worked for General Motors (and did until his retirement) and his mother was a homemaker. Throughout high school, he seemed to be more interested in hanging out with his friends or tinkering with cars than with studying. After graduating, he attended a few classes at a community college before getting a full time job, a wife, and two children. A number of years later, he was hired by a hospital as health assistant which is his current station along with attending classes to in hopes of becoming a registered nurse.

My father has always enjoyed reading, concentrating his efforts in science-fiction, political thrillers (such as Tom Clancy novels), and accounts of historical events. He's also been known to pick up a scientific journal upon occasion and, although his mastery of the mathematical parts is rather shaky, he likes to try to explain the concepts to anyone who will listen.

All though my childhood I can remember my dad playing music on his stereo as loud as he could. Be it rock and roll, classical, or folk music, it would be played at a decibel level which could drown out a jet liner taking off. His most played records were the Beatles, but all his albums got heavy circulation (no pun intended).

The only word to adequately describe my father's sense of humor is "corky." He is more inclined to watch the works of Mel Brookes than to attend the more sophisticated comedies by William Shakespeare. His self-proclaimed favorite joke is "What did the snail say on the turtle's back? Wheeeee!" I think that pretty much says it all.

I, on the other hand was born on October 8, 1978, the youngest in a family of two. My father was a truck driver and my mother was about to go back to college for her teaching certificate. Throughout high school, I was more interested in hanging out with my friends or tinkering with computers than with studying. After graduating in 1997, I enrolled in the University of Michigan (the Flint version) with the intention of becoming a computer programmer. My current view on marriage and child rearing is the later the better.

I have never enjoyed reading. For some reason I seem to only be able to read about as fast as I talk so reading a novel of any substantial size is more akin to major dental work than a relaxing diversion. This doesn't mean I don't read, though. I simply prefer essays, short stories (such as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle books), and poetry. I've also been known to pick up a math or computer textbook upon occasion and, although I enjoy the mathematical aspect, I usually avoid discussing the ideas with anyone else since it bores most people to the point of insanity.

All though my life I've played my music on my father's stereo as loud as I could. Be it alternative, a Broadway musical, or heavy metal, it was played at a decibel level which could drown out a jet liner taking off. My most played CD is the Phantom of the Opera, but all get heavy circulation.

The only word to adequately describe my sense of humor is "dark." I am more inclined to watch the works of Monty Python than to attend the more sophisticated comedies by William Shakespeare. I find bloody movies like "Friday the Thirteenth" funny and always have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing and ruining it for fellow spectators.

My father and I look very much alike. We sound the same and have a similar turn of phrase. We even have the same tendency to finish eating an item on our plate before moving on to the next one. As anyone who really knows both of us will tell you, though, we are very different people.