I often feel more satisfaction with my work than I should because I'm (sort of) a journalist. One of my pen names is Greg Warwick.
My father's a journalist (mostly celeb scandal), and one of his pen names is Jan Warwick.
His father was a journalist (and sportscaster), and one of his pen names was Hugh Warwick.
His father was involved with newspapers, too -- helped introduce color printing (and thus, the Sunday funnies!) to South Africa. I don't know if anyone called him Warwick or not, but he looked dashing in golf knickers. (The knee-length pants, you creeps.)
It's kind of interesting to me that my mother's side of the family is MUCH more concerned with Family Things (they print a hardback register of the family tree, have biannual international reunions, much drama over who's in what position of power and who gets to keep which name), but the first "family tradition" thing I think about is what my dad did and his dad did. For a living, I mean.
I grow herbs because of my mother and her mother -- I can't smell my rosemary without thinking of my grandmother's church cottage in Rivonia -- but for some reason it all seems to start with her. The family she married into is big into Family Traditions, but most things I seem to get from that side are things like, I dunno, not even recipes but things to do with food. Things she did in the kitchen that her daughter taught us, my sister and I.
This is all starting to seem very gender-rolesy and probably Freudian, so I'm going to sit down for a little bit. |
