Passing on lessons…

Is it possible that poor spelling is hereditary? I don’t know, sometimes I think it is. My father was a poor speller, but he did have an excuse, English was not his first language, so he was having to learn to spell a second language. Maybe some of my obsession with spelling has to do with his insistence that I learned to spell.

My father became a college student for the first time when I was about the age my daughter is now. In addition to all of his gigantic science text books, he carried a Webster’s dictionary. Granted, this was a time before computers, or laptops, or net books, or iphones or ipads. But it was important to him to not look ignorant. He thought that if he was raising his whole family on a student’s stipend, moving us to another city, studying long hours after spending hours being a good husband and father, the least he could do was put his full effort into being a student. And for him, that meant spelling the words he used as if each one was important.

My father is no longer with us, he never got to meet my daughter. Yet, the lessons he taught to me made me a better person. I want my daughter to know him, even if she never met him. And so, I pass the lessons he taught to me, down to my daughter, lessons about the importance of doing one’s best, spelling well, and living life to the fullest.

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