My dad just put his head down in silence.
He had nothing to say about Bill Cosby.
My dad has an opinion about most current events and I really like this about him. He has the ability to synthesize things that are happening in the world and make connections to personal experiences. So when I brought up Bill Cosby last winter, I expected for him to have something to say about him. Instead, he seemed really sad, almost hurt and it was clear that didn’t really want to talk about the accusations.
When my parents came to America in the late 1970s it wasn’t history books that helped my parents what it meant to be American, it was comedians. For my mom, it was Lucile Ball in reruns of I Love Lucy, that helped her understand feminism, the possibility of power dynamics in a marriage and what it meant to face the challenges of being an immigrant in America. For my father, it was Bill Cosby. Through his stand-up routines and television shows showed my dad what it meant to be an American dad.
Great comedians aren’t just people who make jokes. They are sociologist, historians, psychologist and journalists. They reflect thoughts we are afraid to acknowledge and provide important insights. Only through laughter can comedians help us acknowledge the failings of our society with optimism and hope.
Growing up, I remember my dad talking about the superiority of Bill Cosby. To my dad he was better than Richard Pryor because he didn’t use swear words. My dad used Bill Cosby sayings around the house like jokingly calling my brother and I “brain-damaged.” I have fond memories of watching Cosby’s films, stand-up specials and televisions shows with my dad. We even watched the horrendous Leonard Part 6 together and I’ll never forget how much my dad laughing at this classic scene:
It’s because of my dad that every week, I’ve search for updates on Bill Cosby. I feel that I need something, some kind of explanation to help me understand what was really going on. This last week we got sworn testimony that Cosby got drugs with the intention of giving them to woman to rape them.
Cosby defenders hang on to the “innocent until proven guilty” line in the face of this testimony. While I agree that this idea is the cornerstone of our justice system, it needs to be acknowledged that we regularly fail at this idea. Thousands of people in America are serving prison terms, many of them minorities because they were judged guilty without given a chance to prove their innocence. To hold onto this idea for Cosby, without the acknowledgement of how this idea fails so many is naïve.
There is also this idea that the court of public opinion is invalid. Public opinion has continued to shape the way that we interpret law and our constitution. Once upon a time, the courts upheld segregation as constitutional. When it was overturned the court of a public opinion had a significant role in the reinterpretation of this precedent.
Is it wrong that we have a legal system that so often puts innocent people in jail? Yes. Is it wrong that a person can have their reputation ruined simply by court of public opinion? Yes.
However it is even more disturbing that many people’s reactions to rape accusations are blind skepticism “Why didn’t you report this earlier?”
It is counterproductive that we spend more time educating girl how not to get sexually assaulted rather than teach boys not to rape by teaching the nature and dynamics of consent.
It is shameful that if you can run fast enough, and throw a football accurately enough you can rape someone with no consequences.
If you believe that Bill Cosby is guilty then his downfall should be an important reminder to you that must be respectful and always get consent when having sexual relations with another person. Marital rape does exist and a person who consents before a sexual activity can take away this consent during sexual activity.
If you believe that Bill Cosby is innocent let this be a reminder to never put yourself in a situation that could be misconstrued as sexual assault. If you aren’t careful and accusations come up, the court of public opinion will not be kind.
The reason the court of public opinion has such a vicious reaction to rape accusations is because of how much we are failing to address this issue in America. If we knew that rape accusations were taken seriously and just punishments were handed out, then we wouldn’t see this reaction. If it disturbs you that Cosby is being judge so harshly, then do something about it and donate money to one of the many organizations that are bringing awareness to issues surrounding sexual assault.
Rape isn’t like property damage. For many, this damage can never be fixed. This action has the potential to steal from a person one of the most meaningful, spiritual and for some people religious ways that they connect with themselves and other people for the rest of their lives.
We believe, maybe wrongfully so, in public figures. This belief helps us believe in ourselves, and to have that shattered, takes away little part of that belief in humanity that we struggle to hang onto through the years.
I’ll never forgive Cosby for taking a piece of that away from my dad.
I don’t have any faith in Bill Cosby. He’s not going to come out with the truth, and he’s not going to atone for any of his sins. But I do have faith that one day he will move on from this life and face judgment far more righteous than any of us can comprehend.
I’m doing my best to not let Cosby’s actions affect the memories of enjoying his humor with my dad. But it’s hard and part of me wishes like Dr. Huxtable taking the final dollars out of Theo’s hands, that these tarnished memories could simply disappear.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Friday, July 10, 2015
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Sherry Darling by Bruce Springsteen
Bruce Springsteen has tackled some of the most profound issues and events in the American experience. He has written and performed songs about 9/11, the Vietnam War, unemployment, unions, teenage pregnancy, the failure of the American dream, racism, sexism, fatherhood, patriotism and religion.
“Sherry Darling,” from 1980's The River addresses another important part of what it means to be American: the mother-in-law.
The River is where Springsteen really hit his stride. While it’s not as epic as Born To Run, it takes the depth of Darkness On The Edge of Town an injects it with an unashamed optimism. While there are very deep and somber songs on this album like the unforgettable title track, in many ways, no Springsteen album rocks quite as joyfully as The River.
Springsteen wanted to capture the 1960s sub-genre “fraternity rock.” We’re talking about a song like “Wooly Bully,” and “Louie Louie.” These garage band songs were recorded in what sounded like a party. This type of song you can immediately sing along to partially because the lyrics are ambiguous but mostly because of the spirit and the energy of the song.
The ridiculous thing about Springsteen is that he couldn’t simply do a fraternity rock song without putting his own spin on it. The way he did this was by making it into a hysterical rant of a song, complaining about his girl’s mom.
“Sherry Darling,” isn’t a direct complaint to the mother. The words are directed towards the girl. However it comes across more like the protagonist is with a bunch of his friends bragging to them what he’s going to tell his girl. There’s a sense of bravado, which gives you the idea that this may be more talk than anything else.
The first verse and chorus are hilarious. He complains about the mom’s feet, the fact that this mom won’t shut up and if she doesn’t he will kick her out of the car. The last part of chorus turns it around to being romantic, “I got you and baby you’ve got me.” It speaks to a dream of a relationship that is untouched by outside forces. There’s this idea that if the world would leave two people alone they could be happy, but relationships are never just about two people.
In the second verse, other girls distract him but then he swings his attention back to Sherry. The song continues to be romantic “let the brokenhearted love again,” while reminding us each chorus about his issues with the mother-in-law.
“Sherry Darling,” is a fantasy. It’s like thinking about how great it would be to tell off your boss. You’re never going to do it, but sometimes it’s fun to think about it and laugh about it with friends. Springsteen pairs this feeling with the jubilation of an idealized teenage love. He’s got beer, an open road and his girl, what more do you need in life?
It’s put across in an immature and brash way, but it’s a beautiful thought. We don’t need our moms, our jobs, all these other people, we got all we need in each other. This feeling of optimism, the confidence in the power of love is expressed emphatically in this song. We get beaten down, because forces all around us just seem to get in the way, it’s nice to be reminded sometimes you don’t really need much to be happy. Even though you may have a mother-in-law with big feet, if you’ve got the one you love, you can laugh and sing about it.
“Sherry Darling,” from 1980's The River addresses another important part of what it means to be American: the mother-in-law.
The River is where Springsteen really hit his stride. While it’s not as epic as Born To Run, it takes the depth of Darkness On The Edge of Town an injects it with an unashamed optimism. While there are very deep and somber songs on this album like the unforgettable title track, in many ways, no Springsteen album rocks quite as joyfully as The River.
Springsteen wanted to capture the 1960s sub-genre “fraternity rock.” We’re talking about a song like “Wooly Bully,” and “Louie Louie.” These garage band songs were recorded in what sounded like a party. This type of song you can immediately sing along to partially because the lyrics are ambiguous but mostly because of the spirit and the energy of the song.
The ridiculous thing about Springsteen is that he couldn’t simply do a fraternity rock song without putting his own spin on it. The way he did this was by making it into a hysterical rant of a song, complaining about his girl’s mom.
“Sherry Darling,” isn’t a direct complaint to the mother. The words are directed towards the girl. However it comes across more like the protagonist is with a bunch of his friends bragging to them what he’s going to tell his girl. There’s a sense of bravado, which gives you the idea that this may be more talk than anything else.
The first verse and chorus are hilarious. He complains about the mom’s feet, the fact that this mom won’t shut up and if she doesn’t he will kick her out of the car. The last part of chorus turns it around to being romantic, “I got you and baby you’ve got me.” It speaks to a dream of a relationship that is untouched by outside forces. There’s this idea that if the world would leave two people alone they could be happy, but relationships are never just about two people.
In the second verse, other girls distract him but then he swings his attention back to Sherry. The song continues to be romantic “let the brokenhearted love again,” while reminding us each chorus about his issues with the mother-in-law.
“Sherry Darling,” is a fantasy. It’s like thinking about how great it would be to tell off your boss. You’re never going to do it, but sometimes it’s fun to think about it and laugh about it with friends. Springsteen pairs this feeling with the jubilation of an idealized teenage love. He’s got beer, an open road and his girl, what more do you need in life?
It’s put across in an immature and brash way, but it’s a beautiful thought. We don’t need our moms, our jobs, all these other people, we got all we need in each other. This feeling of optimism, the confidence in the power of love is expressed emphatically in this song. We get beaten down, because forces all around us just seem to get in the way, it’s nice to be reminded sometimes you don’t really need much to be happy. Even though you may have a mother-in-law with big feet, if you’ve got the one you love, you can laugh and sing about it.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Parenthood: Week 49.5 – The Wedding: Part 3 --> The Ceremony
Sitting in the back of the church surrounded by families with little children, I just had to laugh at the situation. Even though all of the kids were pretty quiet and well-behaved we all knew that once the ceremony started it would be anyone’s guess which kid would yell out loud first and need to be removed by one of his or her parents.
Ollie screaming or making a funny sound in the middle of a quiet wedding ceremony isn’t misbehavior. He has no idea what we expect him to do and why we need him to act a certain way. He gets some cues to be quiet, but he really doesn’t understand that there are times to be quiet and times when he can be loud.
Ollie is a pretty mild-mannered baby, so we didn’t expect a lot of issues, but something about a quiet church made him get lively, giggly and more active. It’s absurd to think that Ollie and the other kids around us could stay quiet all the way through a wedding ceremony. The efforts to keep these kids quiet only made the whole situation seem that much more humorous.
Yes, babies screamed during the ceremony. At one point, one very quiet part of the wedding, Ollie blew a very loud raspberry (farting sound) and my niece screamed incredibly loudly at another quiet part of the ceremony.
All we could do is laugh this off, because getting mad and frustrated was not going to help the situation. It’s kind of like putting drums in front of a whole class of third graders and getting angry that they are playing their instruments while you are trying to talk to them. You know what’s going to happen, so why get angry about it?
We got through it and I hope that my cousin and her husband didn’t mind the screaming coming from the back of the church. Ollie didn’t mean to interrupt, he just felt a need to express himself.
I have so much more respect for the parents who brought kids to our wedding. People flew in with kids, stayed in hotels, dealt with dinners way past their kid’s normal dinner time and like us had to deal with kids going to bed far past their bedtime. I did not hear one complaint. Now I know how incredibly difficult it is to do a wedding weekend with children, I am so thankful that these parents put in the extra effort.
The morning we left to go back to Chicago there was a brunch gathering in the hotel. It was one more time that people could get together and chat. My aunt, my cousin’s mom came up to us as we were leaving and thanked us for making it and bringing Ollie. She said that she understood how hard it was to travel with a baby. I brushed it off as not being a big deal. She responded with a knowing smile kindly acknowledging my lie. Then she said, “Ollie being here made everybody more happy. Everything was better because you brought him.”
Sometimes as a parent you don’t realize the effect that your actions have on the people around you. The fact that Ollie was at the wedding and crawled around the reception floor during dinner pulling up on random people’s chairs brought smiles to people. Ollie and Amelia chasing each other around on the dance floor during dinner provided some incredibly cute entertainment other people were waiting for their dinner. There's something about the presence of a new generation that gives meaning to the absense of older generations who are no longer with us.
We put ourselves through a lot to get Ollie to this wedding and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. At the end of it all, I loved Ollie and Diana even more than I did before we went on this adventure.
Family is worth it. Ollie will not remember being at my cousin’s wedding but my family will remember Ollie being there. Years from now that connection will bond my family to Ollie and one day I’ll tell him about how his spirit made a wedding that much more beautiful and how he shared in a beautiful day when two amazing people joined their lives together in marriage.
Ollie screaming or making a funny sound in the middle of a quiet wedding ceremony isn’t misbehavior. He has no idea what we expect him to do and why we need him to act a certain way. He gets some cues to be quiet, but he really doesn’t understand that there are times to be quiet and times when he can be loud.
Ollie is a pretty mild-mannered baby, so we didn’t expect a lot of issues, but something about a quiet church made him get lively, giggly and more active. It’s absurd to think that Ollie and the other kids around us could stay quiet all the way through a wedding ceremony. The efforts to keep these kids quiet only made the whole situation seem that much more humorous.
Yes, babies screamed during the ceremony. At one point, one very quiet part of the wedding, Ollie blew a very loud raspberry (farting sound) and my niece screamed incredibly loudly at another quiet part of the ceremony.
All we could do is laugh this off, because getting mad and frustrated was not going to help the situation. It’s kind of like putting drums in front of a whole class of third graders and getting angry that they are playing their instruments while you are trying to talk to them. You know what’s going to happen, so why get angry about it?
We got through it and I hope that my cousin and her husband didn’t mind the screaming coming from the back of the church. Ollie didn’t mean to interrupt, he just felt a need to express himself.
I have so much more respect for the parents who brought kids to our wedding. People flew in with kids, stayed in hotels, dealt with dinners way past their kid’s normal dinner time and like us had to deal with kids going to bed far past their bedtime. I did not hear one complaint. Now I know how incredibly difficult it is to do a wedding weekend with children, I am so thankful that these parents put in the extra effort.
The morning we left to go back to Chicago there was a brunch gathering in the hotel. It was one more time that people could get together and chat. My aunt, my cousin’s mom came up to us as we were leaving and thanked us for making it and bringing Ollie. She said that she understood how hard it was to travel with a baby. I brushed it off as not being a big deal. She responded with a knowing smile kindly acknowledging my lie. Then she said, “Ollie being here made everybody more happy. Everything was better because you brought him.”
Sometimes as a parent you don’t realize the effect that your actions have on the people around you. The fact that Ollie was at the wedding and crawled around the reception floor during dinner pulling up on random people’s chairs brought smiles to people. Ollie and Amelia chasing each other around on the dance floor during dinner provided some incredibly cute entertainment other people were waiting for their dinner. There's something about the presence of a new generation that gives meaning to the absense of older generations who are no longer with us.
We put ourselves through a lot to get Ollie to this wedding and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. At the end of it all, I loved Ollie and Diana even more than I did before we went on this adventure.
Family is worth it. Ollie will not remember being at my cousin’s wedding but my family will remember Ollie being there. Years from now that connection will bond my family to Ollie and one day I’ll tell him about how his spirit made a wedding that much more beautiful and how he shared in a beautiful day when two amazing people joined their lives together in marriage.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Parenthood: Week 48 – The Wedding: Part 1 --> Getting There
Diana and I have been on a lot of crazy adventures with Ollie. We’ve chosen to do things that are difficult for Ollie and us. There’s been the plane flights, long car rides, and other situations that have really tested our ability to operate as a family. Taking Ollie to my cousin’s is one of the more ridiculous adventures that we have shared with Ollie.
My cousin was getting married in Dallas. We live in Chicago, so we there was a plane ride. We’ve done longer ones to visit my parents in Seattle. However when we got to Seattle, we stayed at my parents house which is perfectly set-up for Ollie. In Dallas, we would be staying in a hotel room. Also we would not be on our own schedule but the schedule of a wedding weekend, which doesn’t really work for babies.
Planning for this trip was a whole different challenge. My parents made it so easy for us to come visit. They bought diapers, have plenty of extra clothing and are around all the time to take care of Ollie whenever we need a break. When I’m staying with my parents, the two-person partnership between me and Diana expands to include my parents.
We had to pack for Ollie much more carefully. One way we dealt with this was deciding to rent a car so that we could make grocery and drug store runs, which we did almost every day we were there.
Next was the car seat. We used my niece’s car seat in Seattle, so what were we going to do in Dallas? We calculated how much stuff we would need carry through the airport and could not easily imagine also carrying a car seat. So we decided to rent one through the rental car company.
If you do an internet search for car seat rentals through rental car companies the horror stories will frighten you. You get the impression that the only thing that is available is a puke-covered, outdated and damaged seat that will permanently cripple your child if he simply looks at it. I decided a long time ago, that I wouldn’t let the internet scare me out of doing what seemed reasonable so decided to rent a car seat.
The airport drama getting to Dallas was annoying but nothing out of the ordinary. The last four times we flew with Ollie, Buffy was with us too, so in some ways this trip felt easier. It’s not that Buffy does anything in the airport that causes stress, but she is another part of our family to worry about, which for me can be very taxing.
The rental care was fine, but the car seat was an issue. I got it latched in but it wouldn’t tighten. I went back and switched with a brand new one and after what was close to an hour of trying, we finally got it in there. Tip: pull across, not straight up to tighten the strap.
About an hour later, Diana and I were sitting on the floor in the hotel room bathroom splitting a burrito while Ollie slept soundly in the crib the hotel provided for us. Somehow we made it.
Yes, the day was crazy, long and stressful, but Ollie was sleeping soundly, and man that burrito taste good. There were rough moments in the day but there was one moment in particular that made the bad parts, not seem so horrible.
When we finally got to the hotel, I was exhausted. I could barely summon a smile when my sister-in-law who had gotten there earlier greeted me. My reservoir was empty. Somehow Ollie’s wasn’t.
As I walked into the lobby, Diana handed Ollie to my parents and the amount of joy the three of them shared in that moment made all of the weariness and stress melt away for that moment. I can’t remember the last time I saw my parents that happy. As they hugged Ollie and he giggled in delight, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of peace. At that moment I knew that all the effort it had taken to come to this wedding would be worth it.
My cousin was getting married in Dallas. We live in Chicago, so we there was a plane ride. We’ve done longer ones to visit my parents in Seattle. However when we got to Seattle, we stayed at my parents house which is perfectly set-up for Ollie. In Dallas, we would be staying in a hotel room. Also we would not be on our own schedule but the schedule of a wedding weekend, which doesn’t really work for babies.
Planning for this trip was a whole different challenge. My parents made it so easy for us to come visit. They bought diapers, have plenty of extra clothing and are around all the time to take care of Ollie whenever we need a break. When I’m staying with my parents, the two-person partnership between me and Diana expands to include my parents.
We had to pack for Ollie much more carefully. One way we dealt with this was deciding to rent a car so that we could make grocery and drug store runs, which we did almost every day we were there.
Next was the car seat. We used my niece’s car seat in Seattle, so what were we going to do in Dallas? We calculated how much stuff we would need carry through the airport and could not easily imagine also carrying a car seat. So we decided to rent one through the rental car company.
If you do an internet search for car seat rentals through rental car companies the horror stories will frighten you. You get the impression that the only thing that is available is a puke-covered, outdated and damaged seat that will permanently cripple your child if he simply looks at it. I decided a long time ago, that I wouldn’t let the internet scare me out of doing what seemed reasonable so decided to rent a car seat.
The airport drama getting to Dallas was annoying but nothing out of the ordinary. The last four times we flew with Ollie, Buffy was with us too, so in some ways this trip felt easier. It’s not that Buffy does anything in the airport that causes stress, but she is another part of our family to worry about, which for me can be very taxing.
The rental care was fine, but the car seat was an issue. I got it latched in but it wouldn’t tighten. I went back and switched with a brand new one and after what was close to an hour of trying, we finally got it in there. Tip: pull across, not straight up to tighten the strap.
About an hour later, Diana and I were sitting on the floor in the hotel room bathroom splitting a burrito while Ollie slept soundly in the crib the hotel provided for us. Somehow we made it.
Yes, the day was crazy, long and stressful, but Ollie was sleeping soundly, and man that burrito taste good. There were rough moments in the day but there was one moment in particular that made the bad parts, not seem so horrible.
When we finally got to the hotel, I was exhausted. I could barely summon a smile when my sister-in-law who had gotten there earlier greeted me. My reservoir was empty. Somehow Ollie’s wasn’t.
As I walked into the lobby, Diana handed Ollie to my parents and the amount of joy the three of them shared in that moment made all of the weariness and stress melt away for that moment. I can’t remember the last time I saw my parents that happy. As they hugged Ollie and he giggled in delight, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of peace. At that moment I knew that all the effort it had taken to come to this wedding would be worth it.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Year 4: Week 31 – Divorce
Once upon a time teachers could safely assume their students had a mother and a father at home. Teachers could write letters home and not have to check if there was an additional address they had to send the letter. Once upon a time divorce wasn’t “normal.”
When I was in grade school I knew of at least three of four of my classmates who had divorced parents. Honestly, I was envious. They talked about having multiple, houses and multiple parents. One of my classmates had two dads and three different moms and spent time in three different houses because of divorces and his parents getting remarried. The way he talked about it made it seem like an adventure.
From a child’s perspective, all it seemed to mean was that this kid had more parents and another house. I loved my parents and my house so how could having more of this stuff be a bad thing.
For a while, I didn’t really think about divorce until I became a teacher.
When I started off as a teacher I was surprised when I saw more than one address listed for a student and often more than two parents listed in the directory. At times, I was told that I needed to make sure to send emails to both parents because they didn’t live together. You just couldn’t assume anything as a teacher about a kid’s family.
Instead of being the exception that we don’t have to think about, children of divorced parents have become the minority that we have to ensure does not feel disenfranchised. For example, when they study the family tree in Spanish, all students are encouraged to use celebrities and cartoon characters as family members instead of their own families so students of divorced parents don’t feel awkward about the complexity of their branches.
The reason this is coming to mind now is because of a rant by one of my students in class this week. He didn’t have his materials for class because he had just switched houses for the week. The students sitting next to him asked him why he didn’t simply have doubles of this material (which is something we often provide students who live in different houses). Try as he did, he couldn’t make this other kid understand that you can’t simply have two of everything. Underneath these words was the feeling that he didn’t want to need two of everything.
The other student couldn’t understand his frustration, not because he wasn’t trying, but because there was no way he could. His parents were not divorced.
This is one of those teacher moments when I express empathy but I don’t deign and say that I understand how he’s feeling, because I don’t. My parents are not divorced and I don’t get how it feels, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t help.
Divorce is not always a bad thing. Many times, it’s the best thing for a couple. However often there’s fallout that we as teachers deal with everyday. The world is extremely unfair to children. They don’t choose the family situations they are born into but they have to deal with the consequences of their parents’ choices. It’s our job as teachers to help students work through feeling bad and blaming themselves for parts of their lives that they can't control. You may not know what to say but you can always be there for them and sometimes that can make all the difference.
When I was in grade school I knew of at least three of four of my classmates who had divorced parents. Honestly, I was envious. They talked about having multiple, houses and multiple parents. One of my classmates had two dads and three different moms and spent time in three different houses because of divorces and his parents getting remarried. The way he talked about it made it seem like an adventure.
From a child’s perspective, all it seemed to mean was that this kid had more parents and another house. I loved my parents and my house so how could having more of this stuff be a bad thing.
For a while, I didn’t really think about divorce until I became a teacher.
When I started off as a teacher I was surprised when I saw more than one address listed for a student and often more than two parents listed in the directory. At times, I was told that I needed to make sure to send emails to both parents because they didn’t live together. You just couldn’t assume anything as a teacher about a kid’s family.
Instead of being the exception that we don’t have to think about, children of divorced parents have become the minority that we have to ensure does not feel disenfranchised. For example, when they study the family tree in Spanish, all students are encouraged to use celebrities and cartoon characters as family members instead of their own families so students of divorced parents don’t feel awkward about the complexity of their branches.
The reason this is coming to mind now is because of a rant by one of my students in class this week. He didn’t have his materials for class because he had just switched houses for the week. The students sitting next to him asked him why he didn’t simply have doubles of this material (which is something we often provide students who live in different houses). Try as he did, he couldn’t make this other kid understand that you can’t simply have two of everything. Underneath these words was the feeling that he didn’t want to need two of everything.
The other student couldn’t understand his frustration, not because he wasn’t trying, but because there was no way he could. His parents were not divorced.
This is one of those teacher moments when I express empathy but I don’t deign and say that I understand how he’s feeling, because I don’t. My parents are not divorced and I don’t get how it feels, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t help.
Divorce is not always a bad thing. Many times, it’s the best thing for a couple. However often there’s fallout that we as teachers deal with everyday. The world is extremely unfair to children. They don’t choose the family situations they are born into but they have to deal with the consequences of their parents’ choices. It’s our job as teachers to help students work through feeling bad and blaming themselves for parts of their lives that they can't control. You may not know what to say but you can always be there for them and sometimes that can make all the difference.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Parenthood: Week 13 – Nana's Story
“He told me to give him Carnation canned milk diluted half and half with water.”
My wife Diana’s Welsh Nana sometimes repeats stories. She's allowed to—she's over 80. I heard the one about the Carnation canned milk for the first time almost a decade ago, but it wasn’t until hearing it again last week that I realized why this moment had stayed with her after all of these years.
The story goes like this: My father-in-law Andy was a big, hungry baby. She tried to nurse him, but he just kept crying. So Nana went to the town doctor (this was a small enough town where there was only one doctor) and he instructed her to buy a can of Carnation milk, dilute it with water “half and half” and feed it to him. She proceeded to do this and it helped satiate his hunger. He stopped crying.
This story was the first thing she thought of when Diana told Nana she was pregnant, and Nana has told us this story almost every time we have seen her since. The first few times I heard this story, I didn’t understand why Nana seemed to get choked up every time she told it. So she gave her baby some canned milk, big deal. People do this ALL of the time now with formula.
Hearing this story again after becoming a dad, I realized that this story embodies some of the most powerful and undeniable emotions about being a parent.
The experience of being a parent is a mix of instinct, social expectations, and spirituality. These three things combine in almost every action and choice parents make and nowhere is this more present than in feeding children. The most basic biological instinct for parents is to feed their child. When this doesn’t go as expected it touches a deep primal instinct. Sometimes societal norms make parents feel better about their plight, but often they only make these feelings worse.
Nana couldn’t feed her child enough food by nursing him. She couldn't fulfill the most basic and most necessary need that babies have. What was she supposed to do? She was a mother when formula was not widely used. There weren't entire sections in the book store about child rearing, and the vast parent support network over the Internet was non-existent.
The answer she got from her doctor was simple and logical. He didn’t make her feel guilty for not being able to supply enough milk. This doctor gave her the tools to fulfill her instincts as a mother to feed her baby. She was not a failure because she couldn't provide enough food for her baby. She could—she was just going to do it in a different way than she expected. This doctor helped her comfort her son and stop his crying.
For this, she has forever been grateful. Even though the doctor passed away, she continues to send Christmas cards to his wife. When we drove past the building that used to be his office last weekend, she excitedly pointed it out as it came into sight.
When I visited Nana last weekend and she told us this story, I saw her glance over to my father-in-law. For a moment I could see that she wasn’t looking at a middle-aged man, but her baby. For a split second her memory took over and she remembered that baby in her arms, hungry and crying, the doctor who showed her the way to take care of him and what it felt like to soothe this baby that now sat next to her driving through the small town she once called home.
Sometimes we get annoyed when elderly people tell the same story over and over, but there’s a reason that this happens. We don’t always catch the meaning of these stories the first time we hear them.
Next time you hear that story from an older relative for what seems like the fiftieth time, give him or her your attention. Really listen and even though the words of the story may come out exactly as you predict, you may learn something about life that you will never forget.
My wife Diana’s Welsh Nana sometimes repeats stories. She's allowed to—she's over 80. I heard the one about the Carnation canned milk for the first time almost a decade ago, but it wasn’t until hearing it again last week that I realized why this moment had stayed with her after all of these years.
The story goes like this: My father-in-law Andy was a big, hungry baby. She tried to nurse him, but he just kept crying. So Nana went to the town doctor (this was a small enough town where there was only one doctor) and he instructed her to buy a can of Carnation milk, dilute it with water “half and half” and feed it to him. She proceeded to do this and it helped satiate his hunger. He stopped crying.
This story was the first thing she thought of when Diana told Nana she was pregnant, and Nana has told us this story almost every time we have seen her since. The first few times I heard this story, I didn’t understand why Nana seemed to get choked up every time she told it. So she gave her baby some canned milk, big deal. People do this ALL of the time now with formula.
Hearing this story again after becoming a dad, I realized that this story embodies some of the most powerful and undeniable emotions about being a parent.
The experience of being a parent is a mix of instinct, social expectations, and spirituality. These three things combine in almost every action and choice parents make and nowhere is this more present than in feeding children. The most basic biological instinct for parents is to feed their child. When this doesn’t go as expected it touches a deep primal instinct. Sometimes societal norms make parents feel better about their plight, but often they only make these feelings worse.
Nana couldn’t feed her child enough food by nursing him. She couldn't fulfill the most basic and most necessary need that babies have. What was she supposed to do? She was a mother when formula was not widely used. There weren't entire sections in the book store about child rearing, and the vast parent support network over the Internet was non-existent.
The answer she got from her doctor was simple and logical. He didn’t make her feel guilty for not being able to supply enough milk. This doctor gave her the tools to fulfill her instincts as a mother to feed her baby. She was not a failure because she couldn't provide enough food for her baby. She could—she was just going to do it in a different way than she expected. This doctor helped her comfort her son and stop his crying.
For this, she has forever been grateful. Even though the doctor passed away, she continues to send Christmas cards to his wife. When we drove past the building that used to be his office last weekend, she excitedly pointed it out as it came into sight.
When I visited Nana last weekend and she told us this story, I saw her glance over to my father-in-law. For a moment I could see that she wasn’t looking at a middle-aged man, but her baby. For a split second her memory took over and she remembered that baby in her arms, hungry and crying, the doctor who showed her the way to take care of him and what it felt like to soothe this baby that now sat next to her driving through the small town she once called home.
Sometimes we get annoyed when elderly people tell the same story over and over, but there’s a reason that this happens. We don’t always catch the meaning of these stories the first time we hear them.
Next time you hear that story from an older relative for what seems like the fiftieth time, give him or her your attention. Really listen and even though the words of the story may come out exactly as you predict, you may learn something about life that you will never forget.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
The First Trimester
The heartbeat.
It barely sounded like anything through the muffled distortion, but the steady heartbeat brought tears to my eyes. It felt like the most beautiful thing I had ever heard in my entire life.
It wasn’t that I didn’t believed Diana when she told me that she was pregnant, but in some way, it didn’t seem real until I saw our baby on the ultrasound screen and heard its heartbeat.
We were in a hotel room in Taipei, getting ready to leave for my grandmother’s funeral when we found out about our baby. We had already be in Taiwan for a day and a half. While we had adjusted to the time change, we were still getting up really early in the morning.
When Diana told me, I held her close to me and I told her that I loved her. We held each other for a time. I didn’t know what to say. I was just so happy and excited to share this adventure with Diana and enter a new stage in our lives.
It felt exciting and a little mischievous keeping the pregnancy from our friends and families. It was difficult because there’s very little in my life that I don’t share.
We got baby books and started scouring the Internet for information about pregnancy. Handling the deluge of information was a challenge so we focused on just examining the information that was most prudent. While some of it was intimidating, most of it was comforting. Every time I felt like I had no idea what to do, I reminded myself that there have been people for thousands of years who have handled pregnancies. So we would be fine. . . I hoped.
Having a baby was always part of our life plan together. The developing of children into adults fascinates us and we both love kids. The time for us to have our own kid perpetually felt like a “couple years” later. One of the pieces of advice that Diana and I were given when we got married was to spend some time as a married couple before we had kids and we did just that.
Similar to the question of “when do you know that it’s the right time to get married,” knowing when it’s the right time to have kids is difficult. There’s so many things to consider before having children. Job, career, family, friends, finances and where you are living are all important things to consider.
Here’s the thing. All of that stuff goes in waves and while you can be in better or worse financial situations, you will never be in the perfect one. As much as the pragmatic part of my brain wanted to have all of those things set up before having a kid, that simply wasn’t realistic.
While I worry about being prepared for the baby, I don’t worry about how Diana and I will be as parents. Correction: I don’t worry how Diana will be as a mother (how I feel about myself as a father is a different issue) and I have complete faith in us as a team. Yes, we have growing to do as a couple but we've come a long way together in our relationship.
One trimester is done. Two more to go. I have more questions in my mind than answers. I know now what it means to feel both excited and afraid all at the same time. And I can't wait to share see the look on our family's faces when we tell them the good news.
It barely sounded like anything through the muffled distortion, but the steady heartbeat brought tears to my eyes. It felt like the most beautiful thing I had ever heard in my entire life.
It wasn’t that I didn’t believed Diana when she told me that she was pregnant, but in some way, it didn’t seem real until I saw our baby on the ultrasound screen and heard its heartbeat.
We were in a hotel room in Taipei, getting ready to leave for my grandmother’s funeral when we found out about our baby. We had already be in Taiwan for a day and a half. While we had adjusted to the time change, we were still getting up really early in the morning.
When Diana told me, I held her close to me and I told her that I loved her. We held each other for a time. I didn’t know what to say. I was just so happy and excited to share this adventure with Diana and enter a new stage in our lives.
It felt exciting and a little mischievous keeping the pregnancy from our friends and families. It was difficult because there’s very little in my life that I don’t share.
We got baby books and started scouring the Internet for information about pregnancy. Handling the deluge of information was a challenge so we focused on just examining the information that was most prudent. While some of it was intimidating, most of it was comforting. Every time I felt like I had no idea what to do, I reminded myself that there have been people for thousands of years who have handled pregnancies. So we would be fine. . . I hoped.
Having a baby was always part of our life plan together. The developing of children into adults fascinates us and we both love kids. The time for us to have our own kid perpetually felt like a “couple years” later. One of the pieces of advice that Diana and I were given when we got married was to spend some time as a married couple before we had kids and we did just that.
Similar to the question of “when do you know that it’s the right time to get married,” knowing when it’s the right time to have kids is difficult. There’s so many things to consider before having children. Job, career, family, friends, finances and where you are living are all important things to consider.
Here’s the thing. All of that stuff goes in waves and while you can be in better or worse financial situations, you will never be in the perfect one. As much as the pragmatic part of my brain wanted to have all of those things set up before having a kid, that simply wasn’t realistic.
While I worry about being prepared for the baby, I don’t worry about how Diana and I will be as parents. Correction: I don’t worry how Diana will be as a mother (how I feel about myself as a father is a different issue) and I have complete faith in us as a team. Yes, we have growing to do as a couple but we've come a long way together in our relationship.
One trimester is done. Two more to go. I have more questions in my mind than answers. I know now what it means to feel both excited and afraid all at the same time. And I can't wait to share see the look on our family's faces when we tell them the good news.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Skipping by Eddie Vedder
I don’t know what it means to be a parent.
As a teacher I’m responsible for my “kids,” but at the end of the day, they go home to their parents and I go home to my wife and my dog.
I’ve talked to parents, read books about parents and I’m currently watching Parenthood on Netflix. Parenthood is something that is on my mind not only because of my profession but because it’s something that God-willing will be part of my future.
I first heard Eddie Vedder’s “Skipping,” in a funeral. Throughout the service stories of an 18-year old boy filled the church. A couple pews in front of me I could see between a mother’s grief as she listened to people talk about her son.
When I read in the program that an Eddie Vedder song would be played during the service, I was surprised. My exposure to Eddie Vedder was pretty limited and my main impression of him came from Pearl Jam’s controversial hit, “Jeremy.” But as the voice of a young girl squeaked out between a calming guitar line and Vedder’s distinctive baritone started, I realized I was listening to something very special.
Vedder wrote “Skipping,” for his daughter as part of the charity album, Every Mother Counts, dedicated to addressing the issue of maternal mortality during pregnancy. This song was one of the mother’s and the son’s favorites. As the song played, each lyrics seemed to be written about their relationship.
The simple act of holding hands, which we take for granted, was a central way that this mother and son communicated their love. Like the service, this song is full of thanksgiving and cherishing the moments that bring true meaning into life.
“Forever we’ll talk and forever we’ll drown in each other skipping around,” could not have meant more in that moment as we all sat there contemplating how forever could exist in the memories we hold in our hearts.
The most powerful story that was told during the service was about how the son would feel after surgery. This boy had to go through many difficult medical procedures in his life and he would wake up confused after the operations, not understanding what had happened or where he was. Then his mom would reach through the jungle of tubes and wires to hold his hand. He would know immediately that it was his mom and he would calm down. As Vedder sings, “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,” could not keep this mom from holding her son’s hand.
This service and "Skipping," gave me a glimpse of the love between a mother and a child. More than that it made me realize how much I don't understand about the human heart. There's so much I have yet to experience in life and while that fact is intimidating, it's kind of exciting.
There's a lot of amazing things on this planet but I'm not sure I'll ever witness something quite as powerful and beautiful as the love I saw during that service of a parent for a child.
As a teacher I’m responsible for my “kids,” but at the end of the day, they go home to their parents and I go home to my wife and my dog.
I’ve talked to parents, read books about parents and I’m currently watching Parenthood on Netflix. Parenthood is something that is on my mind not only because of my profession but because it’s something that God-willing will be part of my future.
I first heard Eddie Vedder’s “Skipping,” in a funeral. Throughout the service stories of an 18-year old boy filled the church. A couple pews in front of me I could see between a mother’s grief as she listened to people talk about her son.
When I read in the program that an Eddie Vedder song would be played during the service, I was surprised. My exposure to Eddie Vedder was pretty limited and my main impression of him came from Pearl Jam’s controversial hit, “Jeremy.” But as the voice of a young girl squeaked out between a calming guitar line and Vedder’s distinctive baritone started, I realized I was listening to something very special.
Vedder wrote “Skipping,” for his daughter as part of the charity album, Every Mother Counts, dedicated to addressing the issue of maternal mortality during pregnancy. This song was one of the mother’s and the son’s favorites. As the song played, each lyrics seemed to be written about their relationship.
The simple act of holding hands, which we take for granted, was a central way that this mother and son communicated their love. Like the service, this song is full of thanksgiving and cherishing the moments that bring true meaning into life.
“Forever we’ll talk and forever we’ll drown in each other skipping around,” could not have meant more in that moment as we all sat there contemplating how forever could exist in the memories we hold in our hearts.
The most powerful story that was told during the service was about how the son would feel after surgery. This boy had to go through many difficult medical procedures in his life and he would wake up confused after the operations, not understanding what had happened or where he was. Then his mom would reach through the jungle of tubes and wires to hold his hand. He would know immediately that it was his mom and he would calm down. As Vedder sings, “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,” could not keep this mom from holding her son’s hand.
This service and "Skipping," gave me a glimpse of the love between a mother and a child. More than that it made me realize how much I don't understand about the human heart. There's so much I have yet to experience in life and while that fact is intimidating, it's kind of exciting.
There's a lot of amazing things on this planet but I'm not sure I'll ever witness something quite as powerful and beautiful as the love I saw during that service of a parent for a child.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Buffy's Special Lady!!
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| I HAS DIANA!!! SHEZ TEH BEST LADY EVR!! IS WAIT 4 HER 2 COME HOME!!!! |
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| SHE TAKEZ GUD CARE OV ME AN BRUSHEZ ME SO IS ALL PRITEE!!! |
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| IT BE LOT OV HARD WERK 2 LOOK DIS CUTE AN FLUFFY!!! |
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| SHE TEACHEZ ME HOW 2 DO ALL DIS GREAT STUFF LIEK PULAY TENNIS!!! IM VRY GUD AT TENNIS!!! |
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| IM ALWAYS HAPPEH WHEN WE R TOGETHR!!! |
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| SHEZ MAH SPESHUL WANDERBL BEAR!!! |
Monday, October 15, 2012
Taiwan Travelogue: Day 4 - Reflections
When I was a toddler, I figured out how to slide down the stairs on my stomach. One time I was doing this, I took hold of the end of a toilet paper roll and went down the stairs with it in my hand.
My aunt laughed as she told my mom and my wife this story as we sat in a Starbucks in a food court. My wife shared some similar stories with my aunt and mom like the time one of her younger brothers sprayed baby powder all over the room explaining, “I didn’t know I wasn’t suppose to do that.”
Our last full day in Taiwan was spent with family . . . shopping. My mom took my wife and I, first thing the morning, to a gold smith shop where my aunt met up with us and then we went to a mall. We bought some baby clothes for my niece and I found a nice sports coat. Through it all, we shared some great stories.
That afternoon my wife and I met up with my cousins and we explored the shopping area at the bottom of the Taipei 101 Tower and later went up to the top of that building. While the view was nice, going up the world’s fastest elevator really isn’t that much fun.
Hanging out with my cousins was a lot of fun. Diana and I had met up with each of those cousins in the past couple years but this was the first time we all got to hang out as a group. We had a great time, mostly being silly and pointing out odd things that we saw in stores and randomly sharing a box of macaroons.
When I think about the past four days, I feel admiration for my family.
You look at people outside your family for inspiration and you wish you could emulate them. But when you see your family being strong in difficult situations, you come to believe that you share these same qualities.
The good in my family is the good within myself.
The death of my grandmother is not an ending for my family. Through the lives that we lead, new unions of marriage, and new generations being born, the story of my family continues.
I’m not saying that the last four days changed my life, but they meant more to me than I can express. It may be a while before I can fully understand all that I’ve experienced, but I know it all felt right.
When I hugged my mom goodbye before leaving for the airport, that simple gesture that once felt so ordinary, felt special. It was like the spirits of my grandparents and my ancestors came together and surrounded us with love.
My aunt laughed as she told my mom and my wife this story as we sat in a Starbucks in a food court. My wife shared some similar stories with my aunt and mom like the time one of her younger brothers sprayed baby powder all over the room explaining, “I didn’t know I wasn’t suppose to do that.”
Our last full day in Taiwan was spent with family . . . shopping. My mom took my wife and I, first thing the morning, to a gold smith shop where my aunt met up with us and then we went to a mall. We bought some baby clothes for my niece and I found a nice sports coat. Through it all, we shared some great stories.
That afternoon my wife and I met up with my cousins and we explored the shopping area at the bottom of the Taipei 101 Tower and later went up to the top of that building. While the view was nice, going up the world’s fastest elevator really isn’t that much fun.
Hanging out with my cousins was a lot of fun. Diana and I had met up with each of those cousins in the past couple years but this was the first time we all got to hang out as a group. We had a great time, mostly being silly and pointing out odd things that we saw in stores and randomly sharing a box of macaroons.
When I think about the past four days, I feel admiration for my family.
You look at people outside your family for inspiration and you wish you could emulate them. But when you see your family being strong in difficult situations, you come to believe that you share these same qualities.
The good in my family is the good within myself.
The death of my grandmother is not an ending for my family. Through the lives that we lead, new unions of marriage, and new generations being born, the story of my family continues.
I’m not saying that the last four days changed my life, but they meant more to me than I can express. It may be a while before I can fully understand all that I’ve experienced, but I know it all felt right.
When I hugged my mom goodbye before leaving for the airport, that simple gesture that once felt so ordinary, felt special. It was like the spirits of my grandparents and my ancestors came together and surrounded us with love.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Taiwan Travelogue: Euglogy For My Grandmother
On Saturday 15th, 2012 in Taipei, Taiwan, I shared my thoughts about my grandmother along with my cousins. While the experience was difficult the writing and sharing of these words was important for my family and I.
I've started this school year talking to my students about choices. Every day we make thousands of choices, from what pants to put on in the morning to whether or not we acknowledge a homeless person who asks us for money as we walk by.
Like children, we don't alway put a lot of thought into our actions and the effect they have on the people around us. In the same way we often overlook the way that other people's choices effect us. For me, this is what this day is about.
The choices my grandmother made resonate in all of our lives. From the seemingly insignificant to the immediately profound, she chose for herself a life full of love and family and through these choices taught us all how to be a family.
I love how I have a cousin who is half Swiss and an aunt in Taiwan, and while the miles between us make it more difficult to stay connected, it's makes it that much more meaningful that we choose to be hear today as a family.
When I was in elementary school grandmother chose to come and help teach me and me classmates how to make paper cranes. When I was married she chose to come to our wedding and share in that amazing day, and whenever my mother visited her she would chose to go shopping and make sure to have a gift for my mom to bring home to Diana.
I think about these things and I know that I'm a better person because of them, and while she may not have not thought too much about these choices, they changed my life. In this way her choice to foster relationships with all of us has sent ripples throughout our lives and led to us making the profound choice to share this day together as one. In this way, grandmother is always with us and through her life we are all connected.
So like my grandmother, choose to love, choose to be a family and choose to remember and honor the ones that come before. Because it is in understanding how the choices of the past effect our lives can we be mindful of how our choices can change the lives of the people around us for the better.
I've started this school year talking to my students about choices. Every day we make thousands of choices, from what pants to put on in the morning to whether or not we acknowledge a homeless person who asks us for money as we walk by.
Like children, we don't alway put a lot of thought into our actions and the effect they have on the people around us. In the same way we often overlook the way that other people's choices effect us. For me, this is what this day is about.
The choices my grandmother made resonate in all of our lives. From the seemingly insignificant to the immediately profound, she chose for herself a life full of love and family and through these choices taught us all how to be a family.
I love how I have a cousin who is half Swiss and an aunt in Taiwan, and while the miles between us make it more difficult to stay connected, it's makes it that much more meaningful that we choose to be hear today as a family.
When I was in elementary school grandmother chose to come and help teach me and me classmates how to make paper cranes. When I was married she chose to come to our wedding and share in that amazing day, and whenever my mother visited her she would chose to go shopping and make sure to have a gift for my mom to bring home to Diana.
I think about these things and I know that I'm a better person because of them, and while she may not have not thought too much about these choices, they changed my life. In this way her choice to foster relationships with all of us has sent ripples throughout our lives and led to us making the profound choice to share this day together as one. In this way, grandmother is always with us and through her life we are all connected.
So like my grandmother, choose to love, choose to be a family and choose to remember and honor the ones that come before. Because it is in understanding how the choices of the past effect our lives can we be mindful of how our choices can change the lives of the people around us for the better.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Taiwan Travelogue: Day 3 - Grateful
What happens to your possessions after you die? The ancient Egyptian Pharaohs packed all their stuff away with them in their pyramids but most of us don’t have that luxury.
As we started going through my grandmother’s positions, it felt weird and almost sacrilegious. But then it started to make sense. What was my family going to do with all of this stuff? What would my grandmother prefer, for the family to take things of her that they wanted or for this stuff to be given away to charity or thrown away?
So all of the women in my family went to my grandmother’s bedroom and looked through her clothes trying things on and claiming clothes to take home. My cousin and I started looking through the curio cabinet in the living room.
There was a lot of really interesting things in that cabinet. We found a metal toy car from the early 1910s, honorary gifts for my grandfathers years of service in various organizations and souvenirs from all over the world. I found a small stone carved into two dogs playing with each other that reminded me of Buffy that I took for my own.
I went in and checked on how Diana and the rest of the women in my family were doing. Diana had found a couple sweaters and a old fashioned but very nice wool suit jacket. As I was looking through this stuff my aunt started pulling out my grandmother’s numerous handbags and I instantly recognized a small brown one as my grandmothers.
I never really thought about her handbags or even consciously noticed them but seeing that bag immediately brought and image into my minds eyes of my grandmother holding that bag.
My mom took this bag into the main living room and started going through the bag. She explained to my wife and I that my grandmother always made sure to have certain things in her handbag. There was a small container of tiger balm, a small packet of tissue, three of four plastic bags just in case there was extra food from a restaurant she wanted to keep, and emergency money hidden away in some corner of the purse.
My mom explained how she learned to carry most of these things in her purse all of the time from her mom. As I thought about the kleenix packet, lip balm, and emergency money hidden away in my work bag, I realized that I was as much my mother’s son as my mom was her mother’s daughter.
That evening we went to my grandmother’s favorite sushi restaurant. It was a authentic sushi bar that only had about twenty seats. As soon as we walked in one of the sushi chefs asked my uncle where my grandmother was and he pointed up and explained that she had passed away.
At the end of the meal we had miso soup. This soup was authentically made with random pieces of left over seafood creating and fresh and subtle mix of flavors. My mom explained to me that this was my grandmother’s favorite dish. As I inhaled the aroma of the soup and tasted the smooth broth, it felt like she was sharing her world with me.
For that experience and that day, I am truly grateful.
As we started going through my grandmother’s positions, it felt weird and almost sacrilegious. But then it started to make sense. What was my family going to do with all of this stuff? What would my grandmother prefer, for the family to take things of her that they wanted or for this stuff to be given away to charity or thrown away?
So all of the women in my family went to my grandmother’s bedroom and looked through her clothes trying things on and claiming clothes to take home. My cousin and I started looking through the curio cabinet in the living room.
There was a lot of really interesting things in that cabinet. We found a metal toy car from the early 1910s, honorary gifts for my grandfathers years of service in various organizations and souvenirs from all over the world. I found a small stone carved into two dogs playing with each other that reminded me of Buffy that I took for my own.
I went in and checked on how Diana and the rest of the women in my family were doing. Diana had found a couple sweaters and a old fashioned but very nice wool suit jacket. As I was looking through this stuff my aunt started pulling out my grandmother’s numerous handbags and I instantly recognized a small brown one as my grandmothers.
I never really thought about her handbags or even consciously noticed them but seeing that bag immediately brought and image into my minds eyes of my grandmother holding that bag.
My mom took this bag into the main living room and started going through the bag. She explained to my wife and I that my grandmother always made sure to have certain things in her handbag. There was a small container of tiger balm, a small packet of tissue, three of four plastic bags just in case there was extra food from a restaurant she wanted to keep, and emergency money hidden away in some corner of the purse.
My mom explained how she learned to carry most of these things in her purse all of the time from her mom. As I thought about the kleenix packet, lip balm, and emergency money hidden away in my work bag, I realized that I was as much my mother’s son as my mom was her mother’s daughter.
That evening we went to my grandmother’s favorite sushi restaurant. It was a authentic sushi bar that only had about twenty seats. As soon as we walked in one of the sushi chefs asked my uncle where my grandmother was and he pointed up and explained that she had passed away.
At the end of the meal we had miso soup. This soup was authentically made with random pieces of left over seafood creating and fresh and subtle mix of flavors. My mom explained to me that this was my grandmother’s favorite dish. As I inhaled the aroma of the soup and tasted the smooth broth, it felt like she was sharing her world with me.
For that experience and that day, I am truly grateful.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Taiwan Travelogue: Day 2 - The Service
As I positioned the chopsticks between my fingers, I looked down at the steel tray holding my grandmothers cremated remains. I always imagined that cremated remains were a fine grey powder but instead they were white and in pieces. Some of these fragments were the size of a coin while others were the size of a rosebud.
The chopsticks were larger than normal, almost a foot in length. I carefully gripped a piece with the chopsticks and used my other hand to brace the middle of the chopsticks. I methodically moved my hands towards the urn and gently placed the remains inside, put the chopsticks down carefully and took a step back to join the rest of my family.
All of my grandmother's children, grandchildren and spouses who were present took part in moving the remains. Then the person working at the crematorium placed the rest of the remains into the urn, sealed it carefully, place the container in a embroidered bag and carefully gave the package to my uncle. It was now the late afternoon and it was time to leave the place of worship where my grandmothers service was held and her remains were cremated for one more important trip to go on with my grandmother.
We arrived earlier that morning in a funeral service facility in Taipei. There were many different rooms in the grounds where numerous services were held. As we got there, workers were bustling around moving flowers, chairs and carpets setting up services in a hurry. Once we got organized, the person presenting our service showed us our part in the ceremony.
We were split up by gender and put in a specific order according to our station in he family and birth order. The family stood in the front facing the audience for the whole ceremony acting as hosts.
After a speaker talked about my grandmothers life, different groups of people lined up in the aisle facing a portrait of my grandmother and bowed to her spirit in prayer. First they bowed with incense in their hands three times. After the incenses were collected and they vowed three more times, then at the the end people bowed all the way to the ground touching their foreheads to the ground three times.
The groups went in order of closeness to my grandmother starting with her children and their spouses, then grandchildren, cousins, family friends and so on.
Waves of people in different groups came up to honor my grandmother. There was not enough room for all of these people to sit in the room so many people lined up outside to pay their respects. After each of these groups bowed to my grandmother, they bowed to us.
My grandfather was active in the Taipei Rotary club and served as the president. My grandmother and him made many lifelong friends through this organization. They had a sister chapter in Japan and one member wrote letters back and forth to my grandmother. My uncles were concerned about him finding out about my grandmothers death because he was very old and they weren't sure he could travel and they knew he would try. He found out and flew in barely making it to the ceremony on time.
Even though I didn't know who he was at the time, I knew there was something special about this man when he paid his respect to my grandmother. He was the oldest man there and had a profound look of reverence on his face. As he left the room, my uncle chased after him and handed him an envelope.
Inside the envelope, there was a letter my grandmother had been writing to him that she had not yet finished. In that letter were the final words between life-long friends.
After the ceremony my family was led to the back of the room where we viewed my grandmothers body. The guest followed our family around the room and once the guest were done, my family lined up. Then we followed the coffin as it was wheeled to the crematorium.
We held another small ceremony in the lobby of that building and then the coffin was wheeled into another larger room with ten cremation chambers, five on each side of the wall. We stood in the entryway and watched as the coffin was carefully pushed into the chamber.
For the next couple hours, we sat in a waiting room as my grandmother was cremated. We ate some lunch, talked a little bit and tried to pass the time. We weren't as loud and energized as we were the night before at dinner but we managed to enjoy each others company after such an intense experience.
I wasn't really prepared to be so close to the process of the cremation. I had seen bodies at funerals but I never saw a coffin enter an cremation chamber or had handle remains. While this was difficult, there was a high level of respect involved. The fact that we witnessed these parts of the process meant that the people working there had to take great care in handling my grandmother. It felt like we were truly taking care of her in death to remember how she took care of us in her life.
Our whole family took an hour bus ride to our families' Buddhist temple. The nuns received the urn and after a ceremony of chanting and prayer my grandmother's urn was placed below my grandfather's. They shared a cabinet in the wall of the building. As we walked by my mother told me that her parents were finally together and to say goodbye.
Looking to the urns, I said goodbye and felt for the first time that day, a feeling of happiness. Part of it was the calm serenity of the nuns and the beauty of the temple but more than that it was knowing that my grandparents were finally back together.
Standing outside the temple, the grey overcast skies didn't seem so sad and as I heard my family talking, I felt ready to live the rest of my life.
The chopsticks were larger than normal, almost a foot in length. I carefully gripped a piece with the chopsticks and used my other hand to brace the middle of the chopsticks. I methodically moved my hands towards the urn and gently placed the remains inside, put the chopsticks down carefully and took a step back to join the rest of my family.
All of my grandmother's children, grandchildren and spouses who were present took part in moving the remains. Then the person working at the crematorium placed the rest of the remains into the urn, sealed it carefully, place the container in a embroidered bag and carefully gave the package to my uncle. It was now the late afternoon and it was time to leave the place of worship where my grandmothers service was held and her remains were cremated for one more important trip to go on with my grandmother.
 |
| My mother waiting for the service to begin. |
We were split up by gender and put in a specific order according to our station in he family and birth order. The family stood in the front facing the audience for the whole ceremony acting as hosts.
After a speaker talked about my grandmothers life, different groups of people lined up in the aisle facing a portrait of my grandmother and bowed to her spirit in prayer. First they bowed with incense in their hands three times. After the incenses were collected and they vowed three more times, then at the the end people bowed all the way to the ground touching their foreheads to the ground three times.
The groups went in order of closeness to my grandmother starting with her children and their spouses, then grandchildren, cousins, family friends and so on.
Waves of people in different groups came up to honor my grandmother. There was not enough room for all of these people to sit in the room so many people lined up outside to pay their respects. After each of these groups bowed to my grandmother, they bowed to us.
My grandfather was active in the Taipei Rotary club and served as the president. My grandmother and him made many lifelong friends through this organization. They had a sister chapter in Japan and one member wrote letters back and forth to my grandmother. My uncles were concerned about him finding out about my grandmothers death because he was very old and they weren't sure he could travel and they knew he would try. He found out and flew in barely making it to the ceremony on time.
Even though I didn't know who he was at the time, I knew there was something special about this man when he paid his respect to my grandmother. He was the oldest man there and had a profound look of reverence on his face. As he left the room, my uncle chased after him and handed him an envelope.
Inside the envelope, there was a letter my grandmother had been writing to him that she had not yet finished. In that letter were the final words between life-long friends.
After the ceremony my family was led to the back of the room where we viewed my grandmothers body. The guest followed our family around the room and once the guest were done, my family lined up. Then we followed the coffin as it was wheeled to the crematorium.
We held another small ceremony in the lobby of that building and then the coffin was wheeled into another larger room with ten cremation chambers, five on each side of the wall. We stood in the entryway and watched as the coffin was carefully pushed into the chamber.
For the next couple hours, we sat in a waiting room as my grandmother was cremated. We ate some lunch, talked a little bit and tried to pass the time. We weren't as loud and energized as we were the night before at dinner but we managed to enjoy each others company after such an intense experience.
I wasn't really prepared to be so close to the process of the cremation. I had seen bodies at funerals but I never saw a coffin enter an cremation chamber or had handle remains. While this was difficult, there was a high level of respect involved. The fact that we witnessed these parts of the process meant that the people working there had to take great care in handling my grandmother. It felt like we were truly taking care of her in death to remember how she took care of us in her life.
Our whole family took an hour bus ride to our families' Buddhist temple. The nuns received the urn and after a ceremony of chanting and prayer my grandmother's urn was placed below my grandfather's. They shared a cabinet in the wall of the building. As we walked by my mother told me that her parents were finally together and to say goodbye.
Looking to the urns, I said goodbye and felt for the first time that day, a feeling of happiness. Part of it was the calm serenity of the nuns and the beauty of the temple but more than that it was knowing that my grandparents were finally back together.
Standing outside the temple, the grey overcast skies didn't seem so sad and as I heard my family talking, I felt ready to live the rest of my life.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Visions Of Quanyin
Quanyin is the most worshipped female religious figure in the world. She is a Bodhisattva, a human who has reached enlightenment. Quanyin is a symbol of compassion and her image is found throughout Asian culture. On my travels to Taiwan, I took these pictures of her ever-present image and comforting presence.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Taiwan Travelogue: Day 1 - It Can't Rain All Of The Time.
There was silence as my mom, dad, brother, Diana and I walked into late grandmothers condo in Taipei. We greeted our aunts, uncles and cousins quietly and then stood there. One of my aunts, broke the silences "come on, talk to each other." With that the room relaxed, smiles came to people's faces and we began to talk.
After a settling in we did a prayer ceremony and presented a meal of my grandmothers favorite foods in front of a picture if her. We stayed in the condo for a little longer to let her spirit enjoy the food.
Then we went to the hospital where my grandmothers body was being kept and did another prayer ceremony. Again, there was a muted energy. It was like we all wanted to laugh and enjoy each others company but we felt a need to hold together a feeling of reference. While the prayers were serious before and after different people reconnected, shared stories and laughed.
Afterwards lunch at one of our families favorite restaurants the smiles came were no longer held back and the laughter was let loose. It was liked we all stopped trying so hard to act "proper" and revel in the joy of sharing an incredible meal with each other and being together for the first time in over a decade.
After lunch, my mom finally seemed to exhale. She had been in Taipei for almost a week before Diana and I had arrived. In the grief of her mom passing hadn't really eaten well. I don't if it was the food or the family that caused to her to finally eat but that lunch was the first real meal she had in Taiwan.
After lunch, we split up and my immediate family hit the hotel bar and then the mall. Diana has small feet which makes shoe shopping in America difficult, but in Taiwan she has more average sized feet so instead of there being a couples of shoes that fit in a store like in America, everything in the store fit Diana.
We got back together as a family for a magnificent traditional Chinese dinner all twenty-one of us sat around a huge table experiencing a meal, full of toasts, amazing food and lots of laughter.
What are you suppose to do when you grieve? How do you act around your loved ones? I'm not sure any of us knew. We were all trying to do the right thing. In the middle of dinner it all started make sense. Grieving for the death of grandmother was about living in the moment, being present and enjoying life.
Today was a reminder of why we grieve. There is no joy, no comfort that is like spending time with family. When someone in a family leaves, we need to be serious and respectful, but we also need to live life to honor the joy that person continues to bring to our lives.
After a settling in we did a prayer ceremony and presented a meal of my grandmothers favorite foods in front of a picture if her. We stayed in the condo for a little longer to let her spirit enjoy the food.
Then we went to the hospital where my grandmothers body was being kept and did another prayer ceremony. Again, there was a muted energy. It was like we all wanted to laugh and enjoy each others company but we felt a need to hold together a feeling of reference. While the prayers were serious before and after different people reconnected, shared stories and laughed.
Afterwards lunch at one of our families favorite restaurants the smiles came were no longer held back and the laughter was let loose. It was liked we all stopped trying so hard to act "proper" and revel in the joy of sharing an incredible meal with each other and being together for the first time in over a decade.
After lunch, my mom finally seemed to exhale. She had been in Taipei for almost a week before Diana and I had arrived. In the grief of her mom passing hadn't really eaten well. I don't if it was the food or the family that caused to her to finally eat but that lunch was the first real meal she had in Taiwan.
After lunch, we split up and my immediate family hit the hotel bar and then the mall. Diana has small feet which makes shoe shopping in America difficult, but in Taiwan she has more average sized feet so instead of there being a couples of shoes that fit in a store like in America, everything in the store fit Diana.
We got back together as a family for a magnificent traditional Chinese dinner all twenty-one of us sat around a huge table experiencing a meal, full of toasts, amazing food and lots of laughter.
What are you suppose to do when you grieve? How do you act around your loved ones? I'm not sure any of us knew. We were all trying to do the right thing. In the middle of dinner it all started make sense. Grieving for the death of grandmother was about living in the moment, being present and enjoying life.
Today was a reminder of why we grieve. There is no joy, no comfort that is like spending time with family. When someone in a family leaves, we need to be serious and respectful, but we also need to live life to honor the joy that person continues to bring to our lives.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Taiwan Travelogue: On The Plane To Taiwan
To honor the life and the passing of my grandmother, my wife, Diana and I journeyed to my parents homeland of Taipei, Taiwan. This post is the first part of the journey I wrote on the plane.
9/12
"Diana, my grandmother died."
As those words left my mouth, I felt a sudden intense pain. It felt like something crushed my heart filling me with an overwhelming feeling sadness. As I collapsed onto my bed feeling tears blind my vision, Diana's arms surrounded me in strength and love holding me together as I felt myself falling apart.
Then it was over and the reality that my life was forever changed began to sink in.
When I heard the news about my other grandparents dying it didn't hit my this hard. There was more of a dull pain that lasted for a longer period of time. I don't know why this was different with my maternal grandmother. Maybe it was because she was my last grandparent or maybe it was because no one expected her to pass away.
I'm writing this sitting on a plane on the way to Taiwan. My grandmother passed away last Tuesday, eight days ago. The funeral is this Saturday (9/15). Thankfully the funeral was arranged for a week after her death so that we had time to to get prepared for this trip.
There are so many different things that go through your mind when a grandparent dies. You have your own grief to work through but even more challenging is your parents grief. When you are kid, your parents are superheroes and you think they can handle anything. That illusion disappears in the teen years. Even though you know your parents are human beings with flaws and imperfections, part of you holds on to the idea that they are invincible, and moments like this remind you of their humanity.
My parents never stopped being someone's children. Even after my brother and I were born. This isn't something I thought -bout growing up, but it's true. We all hold different roles to people in our lives. We are friends, aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, and cousins. But now my mom has no one in this world knows her as a daughter, and now there is no one alive who calls me their grandchild.
Yes, I'm loosing this part of identity, the part of me that is a grandchild, but last Spring, my beautiful niece entered this world who looks at me in a way no one else in the world does: as an uncle.
No, this doesn't even things out and it doesn't bring comfort but it feels like somehow, this is what life is all about.
I believe that endings are what makes things meaningful. That doesn't mean I don't dread them and that doesn't mean I don't fear death. Death is the one inevitable in our lives. It's an experience that we all share. It touches all of our lives. However, the universality of death doesn't make it any easier to cope with and understand.
There's so much in this world that I don't understand. And I try to make sense of everything that happens because it feels like if I don't try, it will all slip away. This isn't a rational fear, it just how I deal with life. Trying to find meaning doesn't always lead to answers but the struggle always helps us know ourselves.
Right now as this plane flys over the pacific, my mom is waiting for me in a hotel in Taipei. I'm not sure what I'm going to say to her when I see her. But I know there will be a hug, probably a couple tears, and the feeling of home and family being in the presences of my mother as her son.
9/12
"Diana, my grandmother died."
As those words left my mouth, I felt a sudden intense pain. It felt like something crushed my heart filling me with an overwhelming feeling sadness. As I collapsed onto my bed feeling tears blind my vision, Diana's arms surrounded me in strength and love holding me together as I felt myself falling apart.
Then it was over and the reality that my life was forever changed began to sink in.
When I heard the news about my other grandparents dying it didn't hit my this hard. There was more of a dull pain that lasted for a longer period of time. I don't know why this was different with my maternal grandmother. Maybe it was because she was my last grandparent or maybe it was because no one expected her to pass away.
I'm writing this sitting on a plane on the way to Taiwan. My grandmother passed away last Tuesday, eight days ago. The funeral is this Saturday (9/15). Thankfully the funeral was arranged for a week after her death so that we had time to to get prepared for this trip.
There are so many different things that go through your mind when a grandparent dies. You have your own grief to work through but even more challenging is your parents grief. When you are kid, your parents are superheroes and you think they can handle anything. That illusion disappears in the teen years. Even though you know your parents are human beings with flaws and imperfections, part of you holds on to the idea that they are invincible, and moments like this remind you of their humanity.
My parents never stopped being someone's children. Even after my brother and I were born. This isn't something I thought -bout growing up, but it's true. We all hold different roles to people in our lives. We are friends, aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, and cousins. But now my mom has no one in this world knows her as a daughter, and now there is no one alive who calls me their grandchild.
Yes, I'm loosing this part of identity, the part of me that is a grandchild, but last Spring, my beautiful niece entered this world who looks at me in a way no one else in the world does: as an uncle.
No, this doesn't even things out and it doesn't bring comfort but it feels like somehow, this is what life is all about.
I believe that endings are what makes things meaningful. That doesn't mean I don't dread them and that doesn't mean I don't fear death. Death is the one inevitable in our lives. It's an experience that we all share. It touches all of our lives. However, the universality of death doesn't make it any easier to cope with and understand.
There's so much in this world that I don't understand. And I try to make sense of everything that happens because it feels like if I don't try, it will all slip away. This isn't a rational fear, it just how I deal with life. Trying to find meaning doesn't always lead to answers but the struggle always helps us know ourselves.
Right now as this plane flys over the pacific, my mom is waiting for me in a hotel in Taipei. I'm not sure what I'm going to say to her when I see her. But I know there will be a hug, probably a couple tears, and the feeling of home and family being in the presences of my mother as her son.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Buffy & Babies
Buffy has always liked kids. From an early age, Buffy showed interest in children and enjoyed playing with them. She has spent a lot of time with Diana's younger cousins who like to chase Buffy around and carry her around as if she was a doll. I am amazed at Buffy's patience in these situation. I don't really understand why Buffy is so into kids. Maybe it's because of the way that kids interact with Buffy, maybe it's because they are closer to the same size or maybe it's because kids understand something about dogs that adults forget as they grow up.
When Buffy first met kids from the age of 6 to 10, Diana and I were cautious. We didn't want Buffy to get too excited and nip at their hands. As Buffy got older, and she had positive experiences with kids, we relaxed. We feel comfortable letting Buffy play with kids as long as we know that the kid knows how to interact with Buffy in an appropriate way.
Recently Buffy has hung out with babies and toddlers. This raised another level of concern for Diana and I. When Buffy first met one of Diana's cousin's daughter, she was only a year old. Buffy was eager to play with her but she wasn't sure what to do with Buffy. One moment she wanted to play with Buffy then when Buffy came over, she would walk away. As the night went on, Lily became more relaxed with Buffy as she through down Buffy bread to eat from her high chair.
This last week Buffy met my niece Amelia. The first night that Buffy met Amelia, she didn't really know what to do with her. She sniffed her a couple times but mostly left her alone. The second night was a different story. When my brother Ed put Amelia's car seat on the ground as they entered the house, Buffy trotted up to Amelia. She carefully sniffed Amelia's feet, and her cheek, walked around the car seat and looks up at us approvingly.
As the evening went on, Buffy followed whoever was holding Amelia. At first I thought it was because Buffy was jealous of Amelia's attention but in the way that she walked and looked up, I got the sense that Buffy was trying to help.Later in the evening my mom was sitting on the floor cradling Amelia. Buffy came up to them and sat down near them. My mom reached out to Buffy and pulled her towards Amelia and Buffy relaxed into my mom's lap and cuddled up next to Amelia.
Soon Buffy and Amelia were asleep in my mom's lap. I panicked for a second seeing how close Buffy was to Amelia, but seeing how at peace they both were I quickly relaxed and took in the magic of that moment. My mom put Amelia's hand on the back of Buffy's neck and her little hand grabbed a little of Buffy's fur. Buffy didn't move at all when she felt Amelia pet her, instead she relaxed deeper into my mom's lap.
A couple days later Buffy got to spend some more time with Amelia. They were both more active as this was the middle of the afternoon. Buffy did the same thing she did during their earlier meeting following around whoever was holding Amelia, especially when Amelia was crying. While my dad was holding Amelia, my mom was playing with Buffy getting her to jump holding her hand above Buffy's nose. As Buffy jumped and barked, Amelia laughed for the first time.The first laugh is a special thing. It's a sign of a baby's physical and emotional development. Just a couple months ago, Amelia could not make out shapes or communicate a wide range of emotions. Now Amelia was watching, listening and comprehending Buffy at play and communicating her joy through laughter.
I am so proud that Buffy was part of Amelia's first laugh. I'm overjoyed that Buffy can interact with Amelia in a positive way. The fact that Buffy helped Amelia learn to laugh makes me feel that somehow Buffy knows that Amelia is a special person to all of us.
It's the feelings between people that we can't articulate and understand that are the most special. Buffy and Amelia are family. I don't know Buffy understand this, but that's what makes it that much more magical.
It's moments like these that make me feel like I have the greatest puppy in the world.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Unclehood
What does it mean to be an uncle?
No one tells you what it means to be a brother, a son, a daughter or a parent. We learn what the responsibilities and expectations of being a family are member through societies norms but that doesn’t really take us to a place where we really feel what it means to be a family member.
When my brother, Ed, told me that he and my sister-in-law, Laura were pregnant last summer I was ecstatic. The idea of them extending all of their love and who they are to another person was one of those things that gives me hope for the world. This truly was a beautiful thing.
As the months past, this excitement got mixed up with a lot of other emotions. There was concern for the life changes and the very real risks involved in having a baby. Ed and Laura gave me no reason to worry about them or the baby, but unfortunately even in the best of situations very difficult situations can arise through pregnancy.
On the night of March of 13th, we got the phone call: Amelia was here and everyone was healthy. There was a wave of relief, a smile that I could not control and a feeling of pure joy. When my grandfather died everything seemed a slightly different color knowing he was no longer in this world. The same thing happened at that moment when I knew that Amelia was out there, but instead of feeling a twinge of heartache, there was a light that seemed to shine on everything I saw.
Diana and I live in Evanston, Il and Ed and Laura live in Seattle, where my parents also live. What occurred for the next three months was a waiting game for Diana and I. The soonest we could get out to see them was June 12th. So we had to simply be satisfied with pictures of our new niece and a facetime chat with the little girl.
While I waited to meet Amelia, I asked my friends what being an uncle or aunt meant to them. I learned that there was a wide variety of involvement. People do everything from seeing their nieces or nephews once a month to sending a birthday card every year. While I had an idea of what my relationship with Amelia would be like I really wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do as an uncle.
Earlier this week we flew to Seattle and I met my niece for the first time. Now I’ve met a lot of babies but there was something different about Amelia. When I saw her for the first time, the pictures I had seen didn’t come close to capturing her beauty. As I picked her up and felt the weight of her body in my arms and she looked up at me, all I could think of what how happy I was to meet her and how much I loved my niece.
It’s weird, I didn’t think about what to say her, things just came out and as she looked to me with her bright eye being an uncle started to make sense. Amelia is part of my family. She’s the best of Laura and Ed, and because of the things that Ed and I share, part of me is reflected in her. There's the logical reasons why I feel connected to her, but the emotion that I feel for her that I can't explain is what truly makes her special.
I spoke to my dad about his feelings about being an uncle. I heard the same excitement in his voice that I felt looking forward to seeing to Amelia, when he described meeting his first nephew. I don't understand how or why we share these same feelings but I am so glad that we do. My sense of family is one of the things that I am most proud of, and I didn't realize until that conversations how much of that I got from my dad.
I don’t know how often I will see Amelia, or what kind of presents I will get her, but I know that am proud of Ed and Laura, grateful to share in their joy and feel blessed to have such a wonderful niece, Amelia in my life.
No one tells you what it means to be a brother, a son, a daughter or a parent. We learn what the responsibilities and expectations of being a family are member through societies norms but that doesn’t really take us to a place where we really feel what it means to be a family member.
When my brother, Ed, told me that he and my sister-in-law, Laura were pregnant last summer I was ecstatic. The idea of them extending all of their love and who they are to another person was one of those things that gives me hope for the world. This truly was a beautiful thing.
As the months past, this excitement got mixed up with a lot of other emotions. There was concern for the life changes and the very real risks involved in having a baby. Ed and Laura gave me no reason to worry about them or the baby, but unfortunately even in the best of situations very difficult situations can arise through pregnancy.
On the night of March of 13th, we got the phone call: Amelia was here and everyone was healthy. There was a wave of relief, a smile that I could not control and a feeling of pure joy. When my grandfather died everything seemed a slightly different color knowing he was no longer in this world. The same thing happened at that moment when I knew that Amelia was out there, but instead of feeling a twinge of heartache, there was a light that seemed to shine on everything I saw.
Diana and I live in Evanston, Il and Ed and Laura live in Seattle, where my parents also live. What occurred for the next three months was a waiting game for Diana and I. The soonest we could get out to see them was June 12th. So we had to simply be satisfied with pictures of our new niece and a facetime chat with the little girl.
While I waited to meet Amelia, I asked my friends what being an uncle or aunt meant to them. I learned that there was a wide variety of involvement. People do everything from seeing their nieces or nephews once a month to sending a birthday card every year. While I had an idea of what my relationship with Amelia would be like I really wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do as an uncle.
Earlier this week we flew to Seattle and I met my niece for the first time. Now I’ve met a lot of babies but there was something different about Amelia. When I saw her for the first time, the pictures I had seen didn’t come close to capturing her beauty. As I picked her up and felt the weight of her body in my arms and she looked up at me, all I could think of what how happy I was to meet her and how much I loved my niece.
It’s weird, I didn’t think about what to say her, things just came out and as she looked to me with her bright eye being an uncle started to make sense. Amelia is part of my family. She’s the best of Laura and Ed, and because of the things that Ed and I share, part of me is reflected in her. There's the logical reasons why I feel connected to her, but the emotion that I feel for her that I can't explain is what truly makes her special.
I spoke to my dad about his feelings about being an uncle. I heard the same excitement in his voice that I felt looking forward to seeing to Amelia, when he described meeting his first nephew. I don't understand how or why we share these same feelings but I am so glad that we do. My sense of family is one of the things that I am most proud of, and I didn't realize until that conversations how much of that I got from my dad.
I don’t know how often I will see Amelia, or what kind of presents I will get her, but I know that am proud of Ed and Laura, grateful to share in their joy and feel blessed to have such a wonderful niece, Amelia in my life.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Tha Mo Ghaol Air Aird A' Chuain (Song From Brave Trailer) by Julie Fowlis
I loved her beautiful wild red hair. The sublime nature scenes of rolling Irish hills were breathtaking. Everything about the Brave trailer felt excitingly different but comfortable. Then Julie Fowlis gentle voice began singing “Tha Mo Ghaol Air Aird A' Chuain” As her voice calmed the action and the strong words of our heroine asked a powerful question, I was memorized.
Every once in a while a movie trailer becomes an emotional and meaningful experience completely separate from the film itself. Almost all of the time when this happens, the trailers feature incredible music. Like the use of Arcade Fire’s “Wake Up” in the Where The Wild Things Are trailer:
And REMs tribute to Andy Kaufman that inspired the title of Man On The Moon.
After hearing this song, I spent the next week trying to figure out how to get a recording of this song. I initially thought it was part of the soundtrack to Brave. I wasn't able to find any samples songs from that album, so I resigned myself to wait for the soundtrack to come out. A couple days later I decided to look around some more through a random message board I found this:
Julie Fowlis is an Scottish artist who sings primarily is Scottish Gaelic. Her gentle and expressive soprano voice perfectly fits the style of folk music that she sings. “Tha Mo Ghaol Air Aird A' Chuain” is a track from her debut album in 2005 titled Mar A Tha Mo Chridhe. The lyrics to “Tha Mo Ghaol Air Aird A' Chuain” tell the story of a man finding a girl who is singing about her love who is at sea. The song has a twist in the last verse when it is revealed that the man who is so struck by the girl's singing is the love the girl has been singing about who has finally come home.
What strikes me about the lyrics is that most of the lines describe the beauty of nature during the twilight hours. These moments are painted using different senses and almost fantastical imagery juxtaposing the peace and calm of nature with the pain and heartache in the girl's hearts. On one level this doesn't seem to have anything to do its Brave, but maybe the yearning for something more, something different set against a magical setting really is what both this song and Brave is all about.
“Tha Mo Ghaol Air Aird A' Chuain" is one of the be most beautiful songs that I've ever heard. The combination or the music, the words and the performance create a feeling that only music can capture. This is a song that you've never heard before but seems to have always been in your heart. It’s a story you've never read but somehow feels like something that you've written. It's a place you've never been that feels like a home.
Every once in a while a movie trailer becomes an emotional and meaningful experience completely separate from the film itself. Almost all of the time when this happens, the trailers feature incredible music. Like the use of Arcade Fire’s “Wake Up” in the Where The Wild Things Are trailer:
And REMs tribute to Andy Kaufman that inspired the title of Man On The Moon.
After hearing this song, I spent the next week trying to figure out how to get a recording of this song. I initially thought it was part of the soundtrack to Brave. I wasn't able to find any samples songs from that album, so I resigned myself to wait for the soundtrack to come out. A couple days later I decided to look around some more through a random message board I found this:
Julie Fowlis is an Scottish artist who sings primarily is Scottish Gaelic. Her gentle and expressive soprano voice perfectly fits the style of folk music that she sings. “Tha Mo Ghaol Air Aird A' Chuain” is a track from her debut album in 2005 titled Mar A Tha Mo Chridhe. The lyrics to “Tha Mo Ghaol Air Aird A' Chuain” tell the story of a man finding a girl who is singing about her love who is at sea. The song has a twist in the last verse when it is revealed that the man who is so struck by the girl's singing is the love the girl has been singing about who has finally come home.
What strikes me about the lyrics is that most of the lines describe the beauty of nature during the twilight hours. These moments are painted using different senses and almost fantastical imagery juxtaposing the peace and calm of nature with the pain and heartache in the girl's hearts. On one level this doesn't seem to have anything to do its Brave, but maybe the yearning for something more, something different set against a magical setting really is what both this song and Brave is all about.
“Tha Mo Ghaol Air Aird A' Chuain" is one of the be most beautiful songs that I've ever heard. The combination or the music, the words and the performance create a feeling that only music can capture. This is a song that you've never heard before but seems to have always been in your heart. It’s a story you've never read but somehow feels like something that you've written. It's a place you've never been that feels like a home.
Monday, June 4, 2012
I Started A Joke by The Bee Gees
Before they were the kings of disco, the Bee Gees were a creative and introspective rock group. And before they were the Bee Gees, they were simply three brothers: Barry and his twin brothers Maurice and Robin.
There are other groups in pop music history that are made up of brothers like The Beach Boys and The Kinks. However the fact that there were only ever three members of the Bee Gees made this family affair seem different.
When I watched the three of them interact during performances it felt like the way that my brother and I would be if we were on stage. There was some slight ribbing but more than that, there was humor, support and genuine brotherly love in the way they created music together.
In 2003, Maurice died of a sudden heart attack and a couple weeks ago Robin passed away due to complications due to pneumonia at the age of 61. Now Barry stands alone. There’s not only a feeling of sadness because this group will never perform or record music but there’s also the family part of it that’s really touching.
Barry went through a great loss with Maurice and Robin in 1988, when the fourth Gibb brother, Andy died of a suspected drug overdose at the age of 30. Andy was a pop star in his own right and it was just as triumphant to see his rise and ultimately tragic to loose him and hearing his brothers talk about him is simply heartbreaking.
When I think of all this loss that this family has endured, Robin’s voice comes into my head with one of the Bee Gees’ most powerful songs “I Started A Joke.”
People have speculated that this song is about religion, talking about the struggles of Jesus Christ dealing with a world that acted contrary to his actions. Other people interpret this song with a more literal meaning. I’ve never quite known how to take this song, but there’s something innately powerful about it. It’s not the fact the lyrics hold a profound meaning in of themselves but because combined with the melody and Robin’s voice the emotional expression is this song is undeniable.
There’s tragedy, sadness, regret but also hope in this song. Even though the lyrics of the song cycle to death, it also leads to the happiness of other people in the world. At first this seems spiteful but when you hear the words in context, there’s a feeling of sunlight shining, a level of hope and optimism. It’s the same kind of mix of darkness and light that U2 has in their lyrics like in the song “One.” It is precisely this ambiguity that makes this song so beautiful.
Robin’s voice seems so exposed making this song feel almost painfully intimate. While there is some insecurity in his voice there’s also bravery, and courage in putting these feelings out there for all us to witness.
It’s weird, you’d think the more times in my life that musicians who have meant something to me pass way, the easier it would get.
It doesn’t.
Maybe it’s because the older I get, the more I appreciate them or maybe it's because of something different that I will never truly understand.
When I watched the three of them interact during performances it felt like the way that my brother and I would be if we were on stage. There was some slight ribbing but more than that, there was humor, support and genuine brotherly love in the way they created music together.
In 2003, Maurice died of a sudden heart attack and a couple weeks ago Robin passed away due to complications due to pneumonia at the age of 61. Now Barry stands alone. There’s not only a feeling of sadness because this group will never perform or record music but there’s also the family part of it that’s really touching.
Barry went through a great loss with Maurice and Robin in 1988, when the fourth Gibb brother, Andy died of a suspected drug overdose at the age of 30. Andy was a pop star in his own right and it was just as triumphant to see his rise and ultimately tragic to loose him and hearing his brothers talk about him is simply heartbreaking.
When I think of all this loss that this family has endured, Robin’s voice comes into my head with one of the Bee Gees’ most powerful songs “I Started A Joke.”
People have speculated that this song is about religion, talking about the struggles of Jesus Christ dealing with a world that acted contrary to his actions. Other people interpret this song with a more literal meaning. I’ve never quite known how to take this song, but there’s something innately powerful about it. It’s not the fact the lyrics hold a profound meaning in of themselves but because combined with the melody and Robin’s voice the emotional expression is this song is undeniable.
There’s tragedy, sadness, regret but also hope in this song. Even though the lyrics of the song cycle to death, it also leads to the happiness of other people in the world. At first this seems spiteful but when you hear the words in context, there’s a feeling of sunlight shining, a level of hope and optimism. It’s the same kind of mix of darkness and light that U2 has in their lyrics like in the song “One.” It is precisely this ambiguity that makes this song so beautiful.
Robin’s voice seems so exposed making this song feel almost painfully intimate. While there is some insecurity in his voice there’s also bravery, and courage in putting these feelings out there for all us to witness.
It’s weird, you’d think the more times in my life that musicians who have meant something to me pass way, the easier it would get.
It doesn’t.
Maybe it’s because the older I get, the more I appreciate them or maybe it's because of something different that I will never truly understand.
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