I'm Major Jackson, and this is The Slow Down.

Have you ever taken stock of what you inherited from your parents and your grandparents?

I don't mean monetary goods, pictures, antique furniture, stuff like that, but values, rituals, hobbies,

those intangible traits and habits that have been passed down almost us modically.

I grew up between several homes.

I picked up my grandfather's love of hats, my mother's belief in spreading kindness,

my grandmother's social ability, that woman could work a room, and my father's devotion

to Philadelphia sports teams, whom, despite the fact, I've not lived in the city of brotherly

love and sisterly affection in over 25 years, still elicit my die-hard support.

My grandparents also passed down superstitions.

Old-world beliefs and practices meant to ward off bad luck.

For example, I do not split poles when walking with others for fear of inviting some misfortune.

Once, cleaning the dining room, my wife accidentally swept my feet, which also pertains bad luck.

I quickly grabbed the broom from her hand, and gently expectorated on the straws, which,

as legend goes, gets rid of the hex.

Yes, I spat.

She rightly recoiled.

Having inherited my grandfather's chivalry, I stand when a woman enters the room and

I walk on the outside of a sidewalk, closest to the street.

You know, in case some passing horse and carriage should splatter mud and sewage on my wife's

clothes.

Utterly irrational, I know.

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