A letter to my daughters about the scripts we inherit and the ones we can choose to rewrite.
The Book That Changed Everything
Reading “It Didn’t Start With You” hit like a revelation wrapped in scientific validation. The research shows that trauma suffered by our parents, their parents, and their parents’ parents gets encoded into our DNA. We arrive in this world carrying a suboptimal script we don’t even know exists, then spend most of our lives wondering why we keep veering in certain directions without understanding the gravitational pull.
This knowledge helped me bond with my dad in ways I wish I’d discovered years earlier. But more importantly, it gave me something to offer my daughters: the recognition that awareness can rewrite fate.
The Unexpected Turn on Family Legacy
We’re taught to think of inheritance as either financial assets or family traditions – the good china, the holiday recipes, maybe a tendency toward stubbornness or musical talent. But what if the most significant inheritance is invisible? What if we’re all playing with cards that were dealt before we were even born?
“The maps that get passed down are ripped and torn / They teach us to cut corners from the moment we are born” captures this perfectly. We’re not starting with a clean slate; we’re starting with damaged navigation equipment that steers us toward familiar dysfunction.
Two Grandfathers, Two Escape Routes
My grandfathers chose different ways to cope with their inherited pain. One carved wood in his shed, whittling away hours in creative solitude, making beauty behind closed doors. The other found grace in a glass after the church told him he’d never make the class, drowning shame until it temporarily fled.
Your grandpa (my dad) rode his bike into the hills, away from home and its violent spills, finding peace picking apples on farms far from his father’s drunken harm. Then he swapped his hammer for the cross, becoming a priest to prove the church was wrong about the worth of those who don’t belong.
Each generation finds its own method of distance, its own workshop or bottle or bicycle route away from inherited pain.
The Complete Lyrics
[Verse 1:]
My grandfather carved wood in his shed
Whittling hours, lost inside his head
Shaving curls that fell to the floor
Making beauty behind his door
[Verse 2:]
My other one found grace in a glass
Church told him he’d never make the class
“Not good enough” hammered in his head
So he drowned the shame until it fled
[Chorus:]
The maps that get passed down are ripped and torn
They teach us to cut corners from the moment we are born
We hope the future’s rosy but it’s soon snagged on a thorn
So we keep on playing with the cards that have been drawn
[Instrumental solo]
[Verse 3:]
Your grandpa rode his bike into the hills
Away from home and all its violent spills
Found peace picking apples on the farm
A long way from his father’s drunken harm
[Verse 4:]
Then he swapped his hammer for the cross
Tried to heal what hurt his father most
Became a priest to prove the church was wrong
About the worth of those who don’t belong
[Chorus:]
The maps that get passed down are ripped and torn
They teach us to cut corners from the moment we are born
We hope the future’s rosy but it’s soon snagged on a thorn
So we keep on playing with the cards that have been drawn
[instrumental]
[Verse 5:]
This weekend I spent bent at my desk
Hands busy while I sorted through the mess
Saw both my grandfathers there
The maker and the one lost in despair
[Verse 6:]
They showed me how I keep my distance too
At family dos when love tries to break through
Close enough to feel what’s real
But distant when love demands I feel
[Chorus:]
The maps that get passed down are ripped and torn
They teach us to cut corners from the moment we are born
We hope the future’s rosy but it’s soon snagged on a thorn
So we keep on playing with the cards that have been drawn
[Bridge:]
You’ll inherit something from me too
But recognition changes what you do
The workshops and the bottles wait
But awareness rewrites fate
You don’t have to hide from love
Or think you’re not enough
You can choose which roads to take
And which old paths it’s time to break
[instrumental solo]
[Final Verse:]
But knowing the script means you can improvise
See the patterns behind your eyes
You’ve watched me retreat, you’ve seen me hide
Now you know what moves the tide
[Chorus:]
The maps that get passed down are ripped and torn
They teach us to cut corners from the moment we are born
We hope the future’s rosy but it’s soon snagged on a thorn
So we keep on playing with the cards that have been drawn
[Repeated]
The Permission to Improvise
“But knowing the script means you can improvise” might be the most hopeful line I’ve ever written. It’s not about escaping your inheritance or pretending the patterns don’t exist. It’s about recognition giving you choice. When you can see the invisible script running in the background, you can decide whether to follow it or write something new.
A Letter to My Daughters
This song is my attempt to give you something I didn’t have: conscious awareness of the “burden of broken inclinations” (a phrase I’m rather fond of) that gets passed down through generations. You’ve watched me retreat when love tries to break through. You’ve seen me keep distance at family gatherings. Now you know what moves that tide.
The workshops and the bottles wait for every generation, ready to provide familiar escape routes from inherited pain. But awareness rewrites fate. You don’t have to hide from love or think you’re not enough. You can choose which roads to take and which old paths it’s time to break.
The cards may be drawn before we arrive, but recognition changes how we play the hand. That’s not just hope – that’s the closest thing to freedom any of us gets.
Keep Playing is part of the Steve Davis & The Virtualosos collection – songs that turn personal revelation into permission for others to question their own inherited scripts.