My dad was one of those guys who could look at any engine, mechanical device, etc., tell you exactly what was wrong with it and how to fix it.
Beyond anything really basic, I’m not at all mechanically inclined.
Like olivesformarch, I come from a family of hard science types. Physics, chemistry, with a garnish of calculus and differential equations. I’m all philosphy, music, and social science and yeah I’m sure they wondered about cowbirds in the nursery.
When my folks retired, they built their own house. Designed it and then walked up on beams with plywood held over their heads and weilded hammers, laid brick, strung electrical cable, the whole works. I could probably build a doghouse, given the right materials and a saw and a power screwdriver, but damn.
My grandma was a professional-calibre sempstress. Could measure you and take down a bolt of cloth and make clothes for you, with or without a Simplicity pattern. My sister apparently got that gene. Me, I can sew a button back on.
I should have mentioned my father’s green thumb. He had the yard designed so that every area had something in bloom at any given time in the season. When some flowers were finished blooming, there was something else beginning to bloom in the same spot. And there were no weeds in the entire yard.
Me? I can plant 100 plants, and maybe 5 will survive until the next year. And maybe none the following year. And my houseplants all have mealy bugs.
My dad’s artistic talent, specifically, drawing and painting. In my parents’ living room are three paintings that the three of us kids have done in school. My brother’s? Fantastic. Every time I look at it I see something new. He did his in high school in a painting class. My sister’s? Not AS fantastic, but that’s because she did hers in middle school and was thus not at her full level of talent yet. Still a decent painting. Mine? Looks like I painted it with my feet when I was five years old. The frame for the canvas isn’t even straight–if you were to put it on the ground it would lean noticeably to the left. I also did mine in middle school, but I have no excuse. I just plain suck.
Luckily, my mother also shares this lack of skills. We can draw funny-looking stick-figures together! Hooray!
I might have inherited my father’s singing talent. He’s the first lead singer on this track:
Can I do this? Nope. Even close? Nope.
Siiiiigh. This is me to a T, except both of my parents are great dancers. My mom won many contests in high school, and managed to bring my dad close to her level. I remember many times going to a restaurant or county club and the whole place forming a ring around my parents. Blerg.
Today I took a Zumba class, and looked like I was in mortal pain. The instructor came over and danced next to me a few times - code for “you’re doing it wrong!”
MammaHomie can sing, more or less well, when she works at it. As for me, my singing sounds like someone is torturing a goat.
PappaHomie can build things, repair things, and is generally good at working with his hands. As for me, give me a hammer and a nail and I’ll probably crucify myself.
My great-grandmother painted everything she could get her hands on. My mother minored in art history and has generally good artistic inclinations. My brother majored in studio arts and is a graphic designer. Me? I went to an elite college and took plenty of graduate level courses, but the stupidest I ever felt in college was in Art History 100 - Introduction to Art. I just didn’t understand what they were talking about. I went to see the TA every week and tried really hard, but I just didn’t get it. Ask me to describe a painting, and I’ll say, “Well, it’s blue. With pink flowers.” Or whatever.
My father was captain of all 4 major sports his senior year in high school. He went on to play semi-pro baseball before an injury forced him to retire. Instead he became a great basketball coach, and even helped run basketball camps with a few former Boston Celtic players.
My 3 brothers were all athletes as well - playing basketball, cross-country & track. My oldest brother was considered a great pitcher and was offered a ball scholarship but passed to study for the ministry. He’s a baseball coach to this day.
Me? I once got yelled at for missing a ball hit to left field because I was picking daisies instead.