The Romans were not a pretty people.

In a conversation with my little brother Karl recently, he complained that he needs to see his dentist to have a cavity filled. As per our usual schtick, I made a sarcastic comment alluding to the whining men do when encountering even minor pain. And then he revealed to me something quite startling: this was my brother's first dental cavity. He's thirty-freakin'-one years old!

This news kinda bums me out. Here's why: Without getting into a scientific explanation of genetics, I think I can plainly say that we inherit a number of traits from our parents. And they inherited a number of traits from their parents. So it is safe to assume that many of my personal characteristics were seen before in one of my grandmothers. I had two - Grandma Alice and Grandma Esther.

Grandma Esther was very smart, and had a love of words and puzzles. I'm going to flatter myself here, and tell you that I inherited these traits from her. She was also quite well off in the chestal (I would not recommend trying to use that word in a Scrabble game) region, and y'all who have met me can attest to the fact that, physically speaking, I should fall over forward.

Grandma Alice, on the other hand, was a slight thing, with a peaches and cream complexion. Whereas, I'm pretty sure I saw my dermatologist driving a Ferrari the other day. For some strange reason, she never had hair on her legs. I however, have to block out time nearly every day to deforest my soccer calves. And, when she died at age 95, she still had her own teeth. Up until my brother's recent dental revelation, I thought I might have managed to pluck that winner from the family tree.

But alas, it seems that the only thing my Grandma Alice passed to me was my nose. A nose which Karl once (unflatteringly) characterized as "Roman".