The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
May She Rest in Peace
Today, I received e-mail from Scott Mitchell of Richard's, letting me know that Rickee Oleet, who helped outfit me in suave clothes for work over the past seven years, died of cancer on Saturday. She had great taste and was a mensch.
I hope to go to the memorial service on Tuesday afternoon. I'll wear a suit that Rickee found for me.
Today, I'm wearing a jacket she suggested a few years ago, and pants she found for me more than half a decade ago. Rickee was sensible in her manner and stylish in her design-sense.
My mother said she'd go with me to the service. Clothing is a way I express myself. My mother has great taste, too. If my mother dies before me, I'll need to carry on the tradition of dressing appealingly. Both of my parents had and have great fashion-sense.
This afternoon, right after I found out about Rickee, I saw one of my colleagues, who always looks great, and I asked him, "Do you also shop at Richard's?"
He reached his jacket behind his office door and showed me the Richard's label inside.
"Well, I just found out that the woman, who helped me for years died this weekend and I'm thinking of going to the memorial service, though it's right in the middle of our day."
"That doesn't sound irrational to me," he said.
"Picture if the guy, who helps you find what you need were to die."
He nodded.
Rickee was like another mother on a small scale. Who else clothes you? (Of course, I paid her to do so, but....) I liked her positive way. I could come in only once every several years and she treated me as though I had never left.
Why are some people struck with cancer? Why do some die from it while others survive?
Showing posts with label cancer sorority. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cancer sorority. Show all posts
Monday, September 22, 2008
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.
...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.
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