My parents, who are both left-handed, have always worn their watches on their left wrists, because that is what they learned to do from their right-handed parents.

I am right-handed, and I’ve always worn my watch on my dominant hand, because that is what I learned to do from my left-handed parents.

This sequence strikes me as a pretty good metaphor for a lot of things about families, mine and in general.

(Thinking about this because I now have a watch of my grandfather’s, which I am therefore trying to get used to wearing on my left wrist so that I can wind it while wearing it.)