Nobody in my family was in creative work. My dad wears a suit and works in an office. My mom is/was a school nurse. My grandfather worked for PECO (Philadelphia Electric) and my other grandfather, before he died, more or less moped around.
Sometimes I don’t know where I came from. Christine has made the argument I’m adopted, because I’m so unlike my folks. But I don’t think I’m adopted. My nose, for instance, is a sure sign I’m my mother’s son, on account of how it zig zags. (It’s the minuscule things – the shared blemishes, really – that give me away.)
The point is you don’t have to be like your parents. You can break the mold and strike out anytime. You can even get a nose job. But more importantly, you can be creative.