My mom is a weirdo magnet. Whether she’s in a store, walking downtown or simply minding her own business, weird people start talking to her—and she happily talks back. Whenever I’m with her I can guarantee we’re going to meet the guy in Home Depot who claims he can see what color aura we possess or the man at the apartment complex who sings “My Girl” in the hot tub every morning. I always thought this happened to my mom because she was too friendly...a neighbor could stop by to borrower a can opener and leave 20 minutes later with our life story (it’s happened before). But as I grew up, I was horrified to learn that weirdoes didn’t just follow my mother...they followed me. And let’s make one thing clear—I actually make a concerted effort to be unfriendly 90 percent of the time. I try to blend in as much as possible wherever I am and give off the appearance of being completely disinterested in people, but it’s as if they can smell it on me. A man at the grocery store will start telling me about the time his car got stolen, the time someone tried to kill him, and the time his car got stolen...again. Meanwhile, slews of other people pick up their bread and milk and leave the store uninterrupted. This type of thing happens to my sister too.
We all know we inherit certain physical traits from our parents, but what about traits that are not visible to the eye or even apparent from a DNA test? Behavioral patterns or strange instincts that also seem to follow us down the family tree? I’ve been thinking about this because one of my favorite T.V. shows started up again last night: Medium. Patricia Arquette plays a woman plagued with dreams that give her clues about mysteries and things that may happen in the future. It’s been alluded to in a few episodes that her daughters have inherited her psychic gene. My mom might not be psychic but she certainly has a "six sense" when it comes to strange folks.
Some might inherit a knack for painting or an ear for classical music, others...well, we get some kind of pheromone that attracts weirdoes to us like mosquitoes to a bug light. It's a gift, really.