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Shiv'ah, Not Shiva
When I began creating this entry, it was less than hour ago, 25 years ago, that my father's coma ended, and he died, after six months of common bile-duct cancer.
Shiv'ah arrangements happened the following morning. I was 17 and in shock; not till nearly a day and a half later did I shed any tears.
I miss my father's humor, dignity, smile and imagination, and I try to honor his memory with how I lead my life. This morning, Pat told me about a new series on AMC, "Mad Men," and I wonder if it'll remind me of my dad from my very early childhood -- from the creative perspective, since he was a toy and game designer, if not an ad man, and because of how the men on the show are dressed. I'm looking forward to buying/renting the season DVD.
Meanwhile, today was an honorable day, I hope. I worked extra-hard on a presentation with several colleagues and had a lovely dinner with my local manager and one of my Delhi-based colleagues.
As we said goodbye, my colleague told me to recall my first week here, during the train-the-trainers session. "You were quiet and seemed to be looking around a lot."
I could hardly recognize the characterization, but then I remembered that I was trying not to feel culture shock, particularly when one of my colleagues took a cell-phone call in the middle of the presentation he himself was delivering.
And comparing then to today, "You fit in so beautifully now. I'm amazed, as this isn't an easy culture, even for *me* sometimes(!)"
I thanked her, and her consideration of the contrast made me feel so good. It's true that I hardly even notice cell-phone disruptions during meetings anymore -- cells don't have voicemail here, as it's considered impersonal...which it is....
2 comments:
Do you remember Dad's hats? Men don't wear hats anymore. Shame. They were so dapper.
Have you read any books from the 60s by John Updike? Totally representative of the 60s suburban culture. I've been thinking a lot lately about my own future shock - from Romper Room in black and white to South Park in all its vulgar color, from punch cards to the internet, from casseroles and jello molds to amuse bouche, from stable, long-term company men to planned personnel obsolescence, from parents worrying about whether their children were eating enough to parents worrying about their children's obesity. I was just at a conference where the NYC schools chancellor announced that the expected life span for a principal today is no more than five or more years...
Warp speed. 45s to cassette tapes to CDs to MP3s. Synthetic cloth.
Nearly synthetic food - hormone and antibiotic fed, sprayed, genetically-modified, grown in earth strip mined of its nutrients.
Does it feel like you're living in another time, not just another place? I guess the access to internet and cable have probably pushed the progress forward, but I can also imaging there being a huge cultural disconnect between tradition and innovation.
Love,
Kathy
Tradition. Innovation. Classic. Compelling. Deep. Accelerated. True. Virtual.
All of them ought to borrow from one another/be one another.
Nostalgia is not as useful as memory, according to my rabbi, Rabbi Sharon Kleinbaum...and still, I miss our father's hats and paisley ties.
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