I guess I started noticing it in small ways. Every now and then, I’d utter one of my father’s favorite expressions, from time to time I’d borrow something from the old man’s wardrobe, and I’d even occasionally get a hankerin’ to listen to the Statler Brothers Christmas album.

The conclusion was obvious; I’m slowly turning into my father.

I started really noticing this when I was about 17 or 18. After years of not doing what my parents said to do on general principle, I realized that was often what I really wanted to do anyway.

Of course, I had to pass through a period of intense “teen angst.” Angst being all the oppression which faces mid-western, middle-class, white kids. I can’t remember what exactly that consisted of, but at the time I was sure there was something.

Anyway, one day I finally turned down the Nirvana, came out of my room, and realized I had it pretty good.

It was then that I started to notice all the things I’ve picked up from my parents.

My dad, like everyone else’s, religiously listened to some music that appalled me to the soul. Especially, Neil Diamond.

Well, I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but I find myself strangely drawn to Jim Croce, Johnny Cash and many other selections from my father’s hit parade.

I’ve even developed a soft spot for Mr. Diamond. Call me what I am, a solitary man.

The music my folks played during family trips to St. Louis isn’t the only thing of theirs that I’ve adopted.

I’ll be damned if I’ll go out in winter without a stocking cap anymore. After all, something like 127 percent of your body heat escapes through your head.

I’ve also noticed that I approach driving the same way my father does. As my father once said, “Anyone who drives slower than me is an idiot, and anyone who drives faster than me is a reckless maniac.”

This may sound strange, but every now and then I even take myself out to dinner and ask myself what the hell I’m doing with my life.

Well, all these similarities (not to mention all the ones I haven’t noticed) sometimes bother me. They make me wonder, how much am I an individual, and how much am I my parent’s son?

On the one hand, I’m still making all the decisions about what I like and dislike, what I say and what I do.

On the other hand, I probably would be making much different decisions if I had been exposed to different things as a child.

So what about other people? I’ll be honest, I’m fascinated to learn about other people’s parents, because I’m pretty sure they’re going through the same thing.

Are we all destined to become our parents? Well, obviously not completely.

But it seems to me that even if we follow completely different family and career paths, we will still be our parents in little ways.

I keep my peanut butter in the cupboard. I’ve noticed some people keep theirs in the fridge. I’d wager no matter where you keep your peanut butter you picked it up from the folks.

And on the subject of peanut butter, chunky or creamy? I’ll guarantee that one’s passed down the family line.

So anyway I’m kind of hungry right now, and I can’t think of any examples that don’t involve peanut butter. But I hope you get my point.

We pick up a lot of things from our parents, whether we want to or not. Which is kind of sad in a way.

I mean I’m pretty lucky; my parents are pretty decent people to find myself turning into. But it is depressing to think that we may be locked into a certain path because it’s the one our parents took.

Luckily, it’s a two-way street.

My parents have been exposed to a number of things because of my three sisters and I.

Naturally, while my parents were coming to little league, and to plays that I was in, they became more interested in those things.

My dad even once told me that he liked a Nirvana song I was listening to, which sort of defeated the purpose of listening to it in the first place.

This strikes me as an amazing phenomenon. I realized one day that if I ever have kids, they will expose me to things that I’ve neither had the time nor inclination to explore on my own.

So in the end I suppose it’s pointless to fight the powers that be.

No matter how much of an “individual” anyone wants to be, we are essentially sponges for everything around us; even our parents.

Seriously though, if you ever see me wearing a fanny pack in public, please shoot me.

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Ben Godar is a junior in sociology from Ames.