Beauty. Mom was a beauty. Dad was good looking for a ginger, but Mom was out of his league, easily an 8 to his 6. He was a good guy, and she knew a bargain when she saw one. They met at the University of Arizona in the early 1930s. He was a senior, she was a freshman. He lived at Aunt Helon's house. She was a friend of the family, an honorary aunt. Mom lived on campus. Dad helped Aunt Helon out around the house in exchange for room and board. The Vermillions paid Mom's way. Their courtship lasted a couple of years. They got married September 1, 1934. That was the year Dad got his Masters in Range Management. He was an ecologist before the word was in common use.
Intrepid. When Dad was writing his Master's thesis, Mom pitched in as his typist. She was an intrepid typist. I have medals she won for typing, one for 90 wpm. I don't think I ever cracked 50 in my touch typing class. His thesis examined the virtues of a minor dryland grass, Rothrock's grama aka Bouteloua rothrockii. Dad's thesis was legendary in our family. Mom had to type it at least three times, and it was not short. Peggy and Tim made up a song: Boota-loota-loua roth rocky-eye, rocky-eye, rocky-eye… Sung to the tune of Joshua fit the Battle of Jericho.
Imprint. My crush on Dad left me with an unfortunate tendency to crush on redheads. Mom's striking beauty had a similar effect. As an infant I imprinted on my parents. That's a mistake many of us make. Our parents are surrogates transmitting us to human. Our real parents are wisdom. We're all children of god. But the more wisdom you acquire the more awkward imprinting is. I'm a slow learner but I learn really well because I pay attention. Most people don't pay attention, don't learn, don't get wise. They're not playful enough. Most people sleepwalk through life. I'm awake now. Because I woke up in this life my whole life is affected. Time doesn't exist for wisdom because wisdom is in 5-space.