Sunday, December 16, 2007

I've Been Quiet

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

...but My Mind Hasn't Been

Another of my family has come down with cancer -- not Pat or me. In deference to my family's privacy, I planned not to blog about it, but then I found a whole weekend went by and I felt unable to blog about anything else.

I tried to imagine blogging about silly topics, like seeing two mansions in Bangalore -- one that had, "Taxman's Haven" etched in a black marble block on its white marble fence, and another, "Abracadabra," which my friend Chitra told me the owners named "Abracadabra," since magically, they were able to finance it when they had thought that they wouldn't be able to.

And I considered commenting on the incongruity of riding down 100 Feet Road in the Indiranagar section of the city during a warm, sunny, Bangalore day earlier this week, listening to Dean Martin's "Let It Snow" on the radio.

Or that we bought a rug this weekend -- from Kashmir, in the Mughal style.

Or that we're nearly packed, or that based on my recommendation that the hair stylist do whatever he thought would be most chic, my hair is shorter than it has ever been...and I love it...and how Pat told me simply to respond, "What haircut?" if people at work seemed shocked by it.

Side-effects of Another's Illness

When I was just 17 and my dad had cancer, my immediate urge was to wish to have a baby. Now, at 42, when a family member has cancer, my immediate urge is to consider my own mortality and to thank God that I'm well currently, and at the same time paradoxically, to feel excluded that I'm not part of the Cancer sorority and fraternity. What a sick sort of envy!

Cancer is becoming business as usual. Pat said that it'll become like other, albeit tragic, illnesses that are managed via medicine, e.g., HIV. Cancer will never be casual in my mind, as it shook me so early on with my father's death from it.

Ideally, my family member ought to be fine, as it was caught at Stage I. Still, I feel very far away right now, and look forward to seeing my family relatively soon.


Anonymous said...

May you never be a member of the cancer society.

You may however come home to snow, because we haven't had much of a choice other than to let it snow.

Can't wait to see you and your new rug.


PS, Zach loves Carnatic Indian vocals. He both listens to it and sings it. I imagine that's what you hear blared over the loudspeakers. I can imagine how grating that must be. I can enjoy Carnatic vocals occasionally, but it can be definitely jarring to western ears.

Sarah Siegel said...

The loudspeakers broadcast Hindu prayer/chanting, rather than secular music.

Zach would love a radio station that Channa and I toggle to when Radio Indigo plays Christmas music, rather than pop-tunes: It's all music in Kannada, all the time -- Kannada is the language of Karnataka.

Yesterday on that station, we heard a couple of songs from the '40s and they actually did sound like the Indian version of the sort of music Mom loved in the '40s. It was fun. As long as a man and woman were singing a duet, I enjoyed it; it's when the women went solo and were super-soprano that it was at odds with my taste.