When my youngest son was born, my mother said that he reminded her of her older brother–the brother who had been killed during World War II. There was something familiar to my mom in my son’s smile and in his developing personality, and though she didn’t really go so far as to wonder if her little grandson was the “reincarnation” of her brother, we certainly talked about the possibility of genetic influence.
There were lots of traits that seemed to pass down through the generations in our family: When I was younger, I looked a lot like one of my great-great grandmothers, one of my cousin’s sons bears a strong resemblance to one of his great-grandfathers, and my mom not only inherited her grandmother’s auburn hair, but also her feisty temperament!
Certain physical characteristics and personality traits just seemed to repeat themselves through the generations, and conversations at family reunions often revolved around how one cousin had a particular aunt’s eyes, or how another had the same interests as a great uncle. Sometimes it seemed that we were all genetically mixed and matched, with interchangeable pieces and parts!
One day in the late 1980s, however, something happened that a strictly genetic explanation didn’t seem to cover:
My mom was at my house, reading books to my 2-1/2 year old son. After they’d finish reading one book, my son would crawl off of the sofa, go over to a basket full of children’s books, and choose another one for her to read to him.
As he climbed down to get yet another book that day, my son walked over to the bookcase instead of to the basket. Looking at the books on one of the shelves that he could reach, he chose one of the encyclopedias and carried it back over to the sofa.
With the book on his lap, he began flipping through the pages, “reading” to himself and to my mom. Then he stopped on a page that had a map on it, and plunking his finger down on the page, he smiled and said, “I been there.”
My mom was surprised to discover that he knew what a map was, and that he knew that a map could be used to indicate where something or someone was located. She started to play along with him, but then the full impact of what was happening began to register:
Her 2-1/2 year old grandson–the one who reminded her so much of her older brother–had opened the encyclopedia to a map of the Philippines, and his finger was on a picture of the island of Luzon.
On March 17, 1945 during World War II, her brother had lost his life on the very island that her grandson was now pointing to.
“I been there,” he said again, then he scrambled off of the sofa to choose another book.
© SKB 2000, 2023