Biased much?

 

A friend recently shared something on FB her cousin authored -- an account of deep-seated bias. 

Humorously told, she remembers her childhood self being seated on a scratchy, dull tan couch, ".... where I was told to sit in my freshly ironed dress" while her mother conducted "very dull" conversations with her friend.   On the wall opposite hung a reproduction of Vincent Van Gogh's 'Sunflowers.'  She writes, "Visit after visit my dislike for that picture deepened."  Decades later, she still has the dislike.

Immediately I was transported to another place and time. 

  

This, before I was old enough to be left home alone, mother would bring me along to visit Louise.   A diminutive older lady, Louise lived in a gloomy 400 sq. foot apartment with her ill-tempered Boston Terrier, Quaddy.   Like my friend's cousin, "I frequently tried to alert mother of our need to return home.  But she ignored me."   

Old Quaddy was all I had, and he wasn't much in the way of conversation.

'Concrete caves'

Stock photo

One time I wandered outside -- and got my head stuck in between the wrought-iron balcony bars.  (Don't ask!)

Perhaps that's the reason I've never been fond of Boston Terriers?  

No, I think the target of my life-long bias are plant nurseries.

Unlike my parents, I was never a big fan of flora.  Nevertheless, I was destined to spend endless minutes trailing after my parents through odd-smelling aisles of greenery and soil.  After a while, they grew tired of my exasperated sighs and let me go sit in the car with my comic books.  

What I'd have given for internet!

To this day, whenever Tom feels the urge to check out Lowes' garden center, I'll find another part of the store that needs checking out.

I love how 'A' concluded her narrative,

"People: Even when you're showing off your ironing ... your children are forming lifelong biases."

Now I'm thinking I should ask my own son!

Have you any inexplicable, irrational biases?

Hugs, Myra