I am my Father's Son.

I hate shaving. I really do.

It's annoying. It hurts. Sometimes you bleed. Excessively.
Therefore, I try to limit the number of times per week that I scrape sharp metal across my face.

When I was younger and hadn't quite hit my full pubescent stride, I would constantly "shave" the few sprigs of hair that my face had managed to sprout, in an attempt to speed the process along. First, it was to get my sideburns to grow faster. Then it was to try to grow a moustache, which was a futile effort until I was about 19.

It wasn't that I wanted a Grizzly Adams' Beard®.....it was simply that I wanted the option of growing one. (Which I later tried, with varying levels of success).

Lately, I've had a hard time getting a good, clean shave. I recently got a coupon in the mail for a free four-bladed razor, which I promptly used in order to replace my usual three-bladed razor. I usually maintain some sort of facial hair, and lately it's been the usual goatee sans moustache. I have been wrestling with the idea of not shaving and letting the beard take over, but it's not quite cold enough for that yet.

Today, I decided to try using the old three blade razor first to get the bulk of the hair that had grown on my mug for the better part of a week. Then, I would use the shiny new four blade razor to get nice and close, to keep the stubble at bay for another few hours.

It was about halfway through my third upstroke with the four bladed razor that I stopped and looked myself dead in the eyes.

Crap.

I am my Father's Son.

My father has used on average four different style razors to shave his face every morning for the last several years. The mirrored cabinet in the bathroom at my parent's house looks like a virtual graveyard for razorblades. I've routinely fired witty remarks at my father for his overdone shaving ritual. He spends what seems like hours in the bathroom every morning just to ensure that a single folicle of newly sprouted stubble will not ruin his day.

It's strange to see your parents' influence in yourself. Take a good long look at yourself in a mirror one day. Sure, it sounds vain and silly. Honestly, it's kind of cathartic.

I am like any other person. Growing up, you shake your head and close your eyes from embarrasment when your parents do just about anything. You try and avoid becoming like them.

My father occasionally makes bad jokes (Sorry, Pops). He makes what seem like the strangest decisions sometimes. My father is a creature of habit. He has refueled his car at the same gas station for over a decade. He shops at the same small grocery store, where it seems like everyone who works there knows him by name, for everything (except his beloved razorblades). He watches the weather radar all day on tv, with the sound off. My father never walks around the house barefooted.

Then again, how am I any different?

Go ahead and ask my friends how often I make bad jokes. G'head, ask 'em!

Ask my friends if I've ever made weird decisions....about anything.

I am absolutely a creature of habit. I eat the same meal from the same fast food place just about everyday. I shop at the same grocery store, although I sincerely doubt the store manager know me by name. Given access to the tv, I watch ESPN all day, albeit with the sound on.

I think the only thing that I don't share with my Dad is that I do walk around barefoot. All the time. Even in the winter.

I now know that there are much worse realizations than learning your personality traits are directly inherited from your parents.

For example:
-The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles do not actually live in the sewers of NYC. Heartbreaking, I know.

-I do not have The Force. As badly as I have wanted to be a Jedi all of my life, I cannot merely stick my hand out and move objects, or use mind control to alter situations to my favor. Even though there was that time, when I was about 8, when I reached out my hand to turn off the lights before bed and the room went dark. I slept very well that night, thinking I was well on my way to being the Greatest Jedi Knight ever......turns out the light bulb had just burned out. Damn.

My Father is a good man. He has worked hard all of his life to support a family that just kept getting bigger. He volunteers most of his free time to several organizations related to his job, the Kiwanis Club and the Youth Group at the church where I grew up. No one has ever asked him to do any of this.

I am my Father's Son.....and I can't think of anybody else's kid that I'd rather be.