Off the top of my head ...

"Any Thanksgiving plans?" she asked as I sat down for a haircut.

Yep, we balding men also need haircuts every once in a while, even if nobody notices the difference between the pre- and post-haircut!

She was a new one.  I had not seen her before, leave alone getting my hair cut by her.  Her hair had a fluorescent color.  I am always impressed with the courage that people have to walk around with strange hair color.  I can't even bring myself to wearing trousers that are in colors other than the mainstream.  What a wuss I am!

It is not an easy question to answer.  For one, I don't know if she is for or against all the hype over Thanksgiving.  What if she has Native American blood and she detests the genocide of her people that resulted from the interactions with the white folk?  Or, if she has no family and events like Thanksgiving makes her depressed ... life for others is never the same as anything comparable to life as we might experience it.

"Oh, just a low key thing ... just by ourselves," I replied. 

Note that I gave nothing there.  Nothing about who is included in the "ourselves."  What "low key" meant.  Small talk can involve a whole lot of back-and-forth without saying any damn thing; something that took me a while to figure out, and which always baffles most visitors from other countries.

"Me too.  My sister and I go have a buffett at ..." I couldn't catch the name of the place that she mentioned.  But the details don't matter in such small talk.  It is, instead, all about the contextual  back-and-forth.

"Oh cool!"

"Yeah, I am a Native American, and I am not much into Thanksgiving."

I would never have guessed that she is Native American.  But, the intermixing means that even people looking white can have a good deal of native blood.

"My mother is from here.  She belongs to the ... tribe."  Again, I couldn't clearly hear the details.  "My father lives in the reservation in Oklahoma."

A simple haircut for a balding man.  The five minutes reveal a huge world behind the person cutting my hair.

"Drive safely.  Too many people rushing," she said as she dusted me off.

One of my many favorite topics this is--people rushing madly.  "I know, I have no idea where everybody is rushing to."

The haircut and the chat cost me ten dollars.  I added a two dollar tip.

"I appreciate you," she said.

A few minutes into the drive, the car ahead of me came to a complete halt.  An accident that had just happened, with smoke rushing out of the scene.  A damaged car smack in the middle of the road.  A dented car on one side, and another dented car on the other side.

After a couple of minutes of waiting, I, like other drivers, turned around towards alternate routes.

Thanks!

It was a cold, rainy morning when I pulled into the gas station.

It is one that I like to frequent because the attendant there is always pleasant, with a smile that is welcoming.  He definitely has seen more moons than I have, and with a weathered exterior that makes it clear that desk jobs are not what he has done through his life.

He handed me the receipt when it was all done.  As always, he added, "have a good day."

"Thanks.  And have a good Thanksgiving" I replied even as he was starting to walk away to the other car that was waiting.

He paused.  Perhaps  to make sure within himself that he did hear what he thought he had heard.

He retraced his path to my car.  "You too, man" he grinned.  "I got to work though.  But then, working is better than not working" he added with a chuckle.

I smiled, waved, and got back on the road.

On a cold and rainy morning, when a man who is older than I am genuinely smiles and chuckles about having to work filling gas on Thanksgiving, I feel so humbled realizing that I have no grounds to complain about any material aspect of my life.  I, like many, take my privileges for granted.

A couple of hours later, I opened the discussions in class with my favorite pre-Thanksgiving groaner that I have been doing for years now, ever since I gained my citizenship.  "Ask me why I am the best person ever to be invited to a Thanksgiving meal" I told them.

A student then asked me that question.  And now came my big moment for the punchline.  My life is always a punchline, it seems.

"Because, at the table, I am simultaneously an American and an Indian" I said.  And laughed along with the class.  It is really a good thing that I find my humor to be amusing; it keeps me entertained.  All these years and I still laugh at my stale groaner!

"No Thanksgiving for me.  I have to work" said one student.  Another joined in with having to work.

Plenty of people work on a day that is a holiday to most.  At coffee-shops, gas stations, airports, utilities, ...   The grocery store displayed a note that it will be open until three in the afternoon.  Meanwhile, at homes across the country, mothers and aunts and grandmothers prepare the Thanksgiving meals, putting in even more hours than they do on regular days, with fathers, uncles, and grandfathers occasionally chipping in.  We take all their work for granted.

I thank them all.

'Tis Thanksgiving. Remembering the year that was ...

As we sit down for the Thanksgiving meal with friends and family, perhaps all of us can be thankful for one thing—the year with strange and unexpected developments is coming to an end.

Who would have thought that this country would ever end up panic stricken about Ebola? So panicky we became that the photograph of a nurse biking in a small town in Maine caused quite a few, who were thousands of miles from the Pine Tree State, to worry that they, too, caught the dreaded virus infection. We became so involved with the panic over nothing that we even forgot the thousands in West Africa who continue to suffer from the illness.

Ebola came in time for us to worry about the state of the world just when the Israel-Gaza conflict ended. Of course, the end of the bombing campaigns does not mean that peace has descended upon that troubled geography. Not far away, a ruthlessly barbaric outfit that grew out of the ashes of Al Qaeda in Iraq (AQI) has quickly become a force to reckon with. And the number of name changes this outfit has had in a matter of few months—Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL), Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS), Islamic State (IS)—has made the casual observer feel like there are multiple versions similar to the number of Agent Smiths in “The Matrix” movie series.

The big European story is, of course, about how Russia swallowed up the Crimean Peninsula. One day Crimea was a part of Ukraine, and the next day it became a Russian territory. Russia is not done with gobbling up Ukraine’s land, with more military incursions expected.

The perils of Pakistan continue, with the same old formula of a weak and ineffective government that is constantly trying to keep the powerful military away. The story of its life ever since its birth in 1947! Meanwhile, suicide bombers continue to strike, with a recent one near the border with India killing nearly sixty and injuring another estimated hundred. Terrorists have warned that the next incident will be in India.

If you are like me, every once in a while you wonder whatever happened to the more than 300 girls who were kidnapped in Nigeria. Remember all that Facebook and Twitter activism to “bring back our girls”? But then that was such a long time ago and Ebola has completely taken over our panic-stricken collective consciousness.

The global economy continues to be in a state of flux. Economists keep warning about the Euro area on the verge of a recession and, perhaps, deflation as well. An economic contraction while prices keep falling is one awful combination, which will surely be worrisome to the millions of unemployed youth, especially in the southern countries of Spain, Italy, and Greece.

While we in the US might feel sheltered from such an listing—however incomplete it is—of less than pleasant developments around the planet, the Ebola virus was a nasty reminder that we live in an interconnected world and that what happens in a remote part of West Africa will not necessarily stay in West Africa. The military conflicts around the world will force the US to act—a burden that comes with being the sole global superpower. Economic slowdown in Europe will affect us, given the highly interdependent economic web that links us to countries that we might not even be able to identify on a world map.

An old idea that is often mentioned, especially in academia, is that “war is God's way of teaching Americans geography.” We need to update that for the contemporary contexts. Now, any crisis is apparently how we Americans learn geography. Thus, thanks to Boko Haram, we were forced to look up Nigeria on a map. With Ebola in the news, there is a good chance that a few Americans were suddenly thrust with narratives about the historical connection between Liberia and slavery in the US. But then, if history provides any guidance, we perhaps passed on all the chances to learn geography.

Whether or not we learnt anything, not unlike my students, we are thankful that the tumultuous and eventful year is coming to an end. But, of course, just because the calendar year is ending, all those problems won’t simply go away. It will be a long while before the public health professionals declare an end to the current Ebola outbreak. The geopolitical tensions in the Levant, Ukraine, and Pakistan, will continue irrespective of the month and the year. Above all, there is really no respite from one certain scary development—when the calendar flips to 2015, the campaigning for the November 2016 elections will begin!

The world doesn't stop because it is Thanksgiving in the US

Our views of the world depends on where we view it from.  A couple of years ago, I asked students in one of my classes whether they had thought about how Native Americans might view Thanksgiving.  It didn't surprise me that they hadn't, and nor did I find them to be at fault.  In our daily lives, we usually look at the world only from where we are.

A celebration for one might not all that a great achievement for another.  It is simply impossible that all of us will be in a celebratory mood even on any given day.  That is life.

Here in the US, on a day like Thanksgiving, it is not that the grim reaper will take the day off in order to spend time with his family to say thanks.  Deaths will happen.  It also means then that to those families and friends, every Thanksgiving in the future will become a day to remember that death too.  Or, consider the families whose near and dear ones are waging their own medical battles in order to live or die.  For them, this Thanksgiving will not be all celebratory either.

And then there is that vast world outside the US.  Do I need to even expand on my point here?

So, why such a depressing post?

All because I read Dilbert's Scott Adam's note at his blog (ht.)  Adams writes about his father who was dying and about the painful death.

My father, age 86, is on the final approach to the long dirt nap (to use his own phrase). His mind is 98% gone, and all he has left is hours or possibly months of hideous unpleasantness in a hospital bed. I'll spare you the details, but it's as close to a living Hell as you can get.
If my dad were a cat, we would have put him to sleep long ago. And not once would we have looked back and thought too soon.

Because it's not too soon. It's far too late. His smallish estate pays about $8,000 per month to keep him in this state of perpetual suffering. Rarely has money been so poorly spent.

I'd like to proactively end his suffering and let him go out with some dignity. But my government says I can't make that decision. Neither can his doctors. So, for all practical purposes, the government is torturing my father until he dies.

As one who has never stopped thinking about this issue, and given that only a few days ago I filed a copy of my "advanced directives" at my doctor's office, well, of course, I am in agreement with what Adams writes there.

Adams expresses his raw emotions:

If you have acted, or plan to act, in a way that keeps doctor-assisted suicide illegal, I see you as an accomplice in torturing my father, and perhaps me as well someday. I want you to die a painful death, and soon. And I'd be happy to tell you the same thing to your face.

A tough issue, which will only get tougher as we live very long lives and as medical advancements prolong the agony of dying that would have otherwise ended without the advancements.  At least, I live in Oregon where I can legally preempt such situations in my own life.

Adams includes an update that his father died a few hours after he had posted that.  In deaths like that, I would think that the family and friends are always immensely thankful that the pain and suffering for that person has come to an end.  It is simply horrendous to watch a person suffer--perhaps even tougher for the friends and family who have to face life after that kind of a traumatic experience?

Here is to looking forward to less suffering as we continue to move forward.  And may we have more rational and humane debates on this important social issue.

Recycling for Thanksgiving

Recycling as in using materials from some of my older posts at the blog!

With Thanksgiving round the corner, I reviewed some of my posts, and came across the following two:

First, from 2009, in which I noted that my life is way less complicated compared with this::

This will be my first Thanksgiving as a vegetarian—excuse me—as a black vegetarian from the Southern United States. As in Texas. As in raised on meat as much as milk. My dad barbecued every weekend. Sunday dinners revolved around collards and green beans with turkey chunks in every forkful, salads and baked potatoes were always sprinkled with bacon. Thanksgiving always included fried turkeys. 

This year, I’ll be bringing the Tofurky. 

A wonderful short essay.  Read it here


The best line there is this one though:

Vegetarianism is the dietary equivalent of Republicanism in the black community

And, given the phenomenal overeating that happens, well, this one from the same year (the image is from the Economist):

Gobble, gobble, gobble ;)

A lot to be thankful for

"How are you?" she asked with a big smile.

"Doing well. Thanks" I said.

After a long time, I was at her checkout counter.  "How is your grandson doing?"

"He is good.  Thanks for asking."

To me, there is small talk, and then there is small talk.  The small talk at a regular joint is something like a serialized short story, which has a "to be continued" at the end of the talk.  So, of course, I remembered to inquire about her grandson.

"Today he starts his physical therapy ... right now he has a gangster kind of dragging, limping walk" and she demonstrated it.

When we walk around, we have no idea how lucky we are to walk around.  How effortless that is.  How we take that for granted.  If we were to stub a toe against the furniture, we momentarily appreciate what we had thanks to the misfortune, but then very quickly life returns to normalcy.  A fracture that immobilizes us for a few days makes us frustrated about the hassles.  If only we realized that every knock--big or small--is nothing but an opportunity for us to be thankful for what we have.  We don't because, well, we are human.

"Do you guys--sorry, do you--do Thanksgiving?"

The more multicultural the interactions, the more we have to consciously, and conscientiously, inquire about customs and practices.  Over the years, I have come to realize that effortless interactions across cultures even requires an understanding of the cultures. I bet she also knows that, which is why she quickly changed the "guys" to "you" to avoid the potential implications: the "guys" could mean people like me from India; "guys" could potentially make it uncomfortable for a single person like me.

"Oh, I think Thanksgiving ought to be a universal thing" I told her.  I was tempted to tell her about the op-ed piece I wrote on this a few years ago.  But then who cares for my stories!

"But, if your question was about the whole turkey thing, well, no ... "

Small talk is no different from any conversation.  It was now my turn to ask her.  "So, you getting ready for the turkey day?  I suppose you folks will be very thankful with the grandson's health ..."

"Yes ... am doing the cooking.  As long as we can all maintain the peace for 24 hours ..." and she smiled.

As I walked back to the car, I knew that more than anything, I was thankful that the terrible, terrible, terrible headache that had been bugging me for more than a day was gone.  Small thing, yes, but what a difference a day makes!

To be continued ...

Thanksgiving: thankful for the end of elections, for now?

An excerpt from one of my newspaper columns a few years ago ...

I have thought about this calendar issue many a time and wondered if the date chosen for the occasion had another strategic value as well: Perhaps an unintended idea was that late in November we can be thankful about the conclusion of elections.
 

To a large extent, the campaign calls and election pamphlets are indicators that there is still a strong pulse in the democracy.  The highly involved and dedicated volunteers, along with the paid staff, make sure that the elections and the issues are in our faces, day after day.  We are forced to recognize the issues, how much ever trivial or profound they rate in our individual political meters, and we decide on a yea or nay.  If we did not have those people, elections and democracy could morph into a political equivalent of a tree falling in the forest and nobody being there to hear it.

I am also quite thankful to the dedicated party loyalists, across the political spectrum, who work hard to get their candidate’s name on the ballot in the first place.  Thanks to such a process, it is the people who choose their candidates here in the US.  (Full disclosure: I am not registered with any political party.) 

This is a welcome contrast to the political system in India, which still continues on, where candidates at any level are handpicked by the party bosses.  My first exposure to this as a kid was when my grandmother was sick, and had to be admitted to the hospital.  We got to know the young doctor who treated her for her enlarged heart.  He was quiet, and even a tad shy to talk to people. 

A few months later, we were surprised to read in the newspaper that he had been selected as a party’s candidate.  He went on to win the election, and represented us at the parliament for a full term.  The doctor was chosen for a number of tactical reasons—but, even the party faithful had no idea who he was.

In fact, the “handpick” method was pretty much how many things were done in India, even at schools.  I can’t recall a single audition ever for any play, for instance, all through my schooling.  The teachers chose their favorites or the best academic achievers—anything other than an open process.  Here in the US though, while it is indeed a tragedy that we do not allocate enough resources for music or theatre, students are invited to participate and compete.  I suspect that even acts like these at school help promote an understanding of democracy—you too can enter that beauty contest.

I am far from being Polyannaish here—I recognize that there are a number of flaws in the process.  But, just as we take enormous care into producing that best thanksgiving turkey ever, it is equally up to us to pitch in to make it an even better democratic process than the one that we inherited. 

In a historical perspective, we have indeed improved the system a lot: from voting rights for women and minorities, to making voting more accessible than before.  To such an extent that here in Oregon, we even have the pleasure of voting at our kitchen tables dressed in our pajamas.

So, whether your candidate won or lost, or even if your candidate’s name never made it to the ballot, take a moment, before you head for that second helping of yams, to yell out a thank you to the democratic system that is alive and well.

This term, too, is a success. Thanks!

Yes, I have had that odd student complaint or two. When it happens, I am often reminded of a graduate school professor.  A bunch of us graduate students were in Venezuela on a project work.  A couple of my fellow-students complained about something that was not up to their expectations in Venezuela, and his reply was simple: "it goes with the territory."  The odd student complaint I get every term goes with the territory.

It is not any complaint that signifies success this term.  I am not that cynical; I have quite some ways to go :)  Furthermore, I pay attention to complaints--they are important pieces in the feedback process, thanks to which I am way less an awful teacher than the version that I was when I entered this profession.

A student email that I received today is all I need to close the books on this term with a big "success" written all over it.  "E" wanted to get the link to the YouTube video on sweatshops that I had shared with the class.

Students are mostly surprised when I show them that particular video on sweatshops.  It is a surprise to them because, I think, from high school on, and then in various college courses, and even in conversations, they have been used to descriptions of labor conditions in many poorer countries of the world as "sweatshops."

And then they get to watch the video that I show them.

The video is a report by an Oregonian, who is one heck of a world traveler: Nicholas Kristof, of the New York Times.  Again, if students were to hypothesize, they might think that this will be yet another leftist criticism from a left-leaning publication. But, and in four minutes, Kristof makes a compelling argument in favor of sweatshops: the sweatshops are a better alternative than anything else.

What makes the feedback from E all the more special is this: she wanted her co-worker to watch it.  She writes in the email that this entire term has been one of conversations with her co-worker on materials and topics from this class.

Isn't that what ultimately education is for?  We get to learn, and then pass that along to somebody else.  We want to infect as many as possible with what we know.  Without preaching. Without bullying.  With humility.  Make the other person also think about some of the ideas we have picked up.

I emailed her the link and added:

I hope you will also remind her, as we did in the class, that this video by itself does not mean that all sweatshops are good, and that there is a lot to understand and debate about.

I wanted to make sure that it would be education and not anything one-sided.

But, I need not have worried about that at all; the reply was heartwarming:

That was the main debate this morning regarding this video. Good -v- Evil We were also talking about the labor reforms in our own early history and how the sweatshops did or did not help with the reforms. I sent her the info on Apple and the nets also.

I am blown away. If this interaction alone doesn't qualify as success, well, the following will make your cold, cold, heart melt away:

Lots of time for us to talk while I'm standing over a donut fryer for 2 to 2 1/2 hours every morning while she ices and processes the donuts

All this while they are frying and icing donuts for a couple of hours at work!

I am amazed and humbled by how much some students have to juggle their commitments in life, while taking education so seriously at the same time. If they can slave over the donut fryer and burger grills, hey, I am more than willing to do my job for quite a few more terms.

In time for Thanksgiving, too!

Thanksgiving Awards :)

From Saturday Night Live

Thanksgiving: "fat" chart of the day

A sense of humor at the White House

This is a change I can definitely live with.  Cool. (ht)

Remembrance of things past--Thanksgiving

The following was published in the Register Guard, back in 2007:

Given my accent and distinctly ethnic appearance, it is not any surprise when students ask me whether I celebrate Thanksgiving.  To me, the answer is a no-brainer: of course, yes.

If unable to shake off the teacher within me, I might then use the students’ question as a learning opportunity and ask them whether Native Americans and African Americans will be thrilled about Thanksgiving, and whether their responses could be different from how the movies depict the day.  “Would you be thankful if you had been brought over as a slave, or if your people were practically wiped off the face of the earth?” is my typical probing question. 

As I see their eyes glaze over, perhaps even regretting broaching this topic with me, I lighten it up with my old joke that the best thing about inviting me to Thanksgiving supper is that I am simultaneously both an Indian and an American. 

As is the case with me, there is a good chance that to most of us Thanksgiving has expanded beyond the notion of remembering the meal that the early settlers had with Native Americans.  Now, Thanksgiving is a day for families to get together, with a common theme of feeling grateful for the good things over the year.

In such an understanding, I would think that “giving thanks” is a universal notion, irrespective of histories, cultures, and traditions.  I cannot imagine people in any culture not being thankful for surviving yet another day, or for enjoying life with people they cherish. 

I am sure my parents tried drilling into me such a concept of life when I was young and, like most kids, I probably ignored their comments and rolled my eyeballs way up.  In any case, every other day it seemed like we had a religious event to thank any one of the thousands of Hindu gods and to pray for the continuation of the good things. 

My grandmother, though, was always a tad hesitant to loudly recognize the good things out of a fear that this might trigger the onset of unfortunate events.  “Don’t laugh too much,” she warned, “because you will end up crying.”  Having experienced too many unfortunate events, including the death of her husband when she was only eighteen and when her son—my father—was barely a month old infant, my grandmother had enough reasons to be cautiously optimistic.

While a day for giving thanks does not seem to have become quite global, Valentine’s Day, on the other hand, is one of the few that has caught on almost all over the world.  We might think this is a great idea—“make love, not war”—but, apparently even saying “I love you” can cause controversies.  In India the fanatically minded Hindu nationalists protested Valentine’s Day celebrations because “it is a Western concept”. 

Yes, it is an irony that India, which is known to many in the west only for a much misunderstood Kama Sutra, has quite a few who think celebrating love is not Indian.  In a letter to a moderate mainstream newspaper last February, one reader suggested that “to avoid further controversy, the government should restrict, if not control, the celebrations.”  I suppose the Hindu god of love, Kama, ought to be thanked for making sure that sanity prevailed.  Of course, love triumphs, and people in urban India seem to have latched on to Valentine’s Day. 

Perhaps the reason for why a day of giving thanks is not as universal as it ought to be lies in lighthearted remarks of a friend, an immigrant herself—she tried to convince me that Thanksgiving is the day that husbands buy gifts for their wives.  Could it be that a day to give thanks has not caught on, as much as Valentine’s Day has, because there is no gift-giving associated with it?  If that is indeed the case, then I have yet another reason to be thankful for.

Above all, I am eternally thankful for having had the opportunity to immigrate to, and become a citizen of, this wonderful country, and then to move to the paradise that the Willamette Valley is.  I suspect that my family has an additional reason to offer thanks—that over the years I have resisted the urge to bake a tandoori turkey!

I thought my life was complicated .... :-)

Until I read this ....

This will be my first Thanksgiving as a vegetarian—excuse me—as a black vegetarian from the Southern United States. As in Texas. As in raised on meat as much as milk. My dad barbecued every weekend. Sunday dinners revolved around collards and green beans with turkey chunks in every forkful, salads and baked potatoes were always sprinkled with bacon. Thanksgiving always included fried turkeys.

This year, I’ll be bringing the Tofurky.

A wonderful short essay.  Read it here
The best line there is this one though:

Vegetarianism is the dietary equivalent of Republicanism in the black community

Be thankful for our democracy

To a large extent, the campaign phone calls and election pamphlets are indicators that there is still a strong pulse in the democracy. They force us to recognize the issues, how much ever trivial or profound they rate in our individual political meters, and decide on a yea or nay. If we did not have those dedicated people, elections and democracy could morph into a political equivalent of a tree falling in the forest and nobody being there to hear it.

Read the entire piece here