I’m still on the road.
Brushing my teeth.
Looking at my toiletries bag.
It is — much to Vicky’s disgust — a plastic ziplock kitchen bag.
I’ve travelled this way for 30 years.
It’s practical.
I can see everything.
I never have to rummage.
Each trip I treat myself to a brand-new one.
No shopping.
No upgrades.
No fuss.
It’s more than a habit.
It’s a default.
—
I started wondering where that came from.
I think from my dad.
We never talked about the usefulness of plastic bags.
But he was always looking for simpler, more practical ways to do things.
They say you become your parents.
I don’t remember many of his speeches.
But I can vividly see his quirks.
What do we absorb just by watching?
—
People often ask,
“What will you teach your grandkids?”
A year ago, I started making lists.
Skills. Ideas. Hacks.
I’ve parked that.
I’m more interested now in how I show up —
especially when I think no one is watching.
That feels harder.
And more honest.
Regardless of the grandad stuff,
I suspect it’ll leave me better off.
—
If you’re wondering what your kids are learning from their grandfather,
look less at what he says
and more at what he defaults to.
Not as a judgement.
As a curiosity.
Those quiet patterns tend to travel further than lessons.
—
Julian