Friendships: New and Old

Image via Wikipedia

It's been an interesting year so far, this 2011. Here we are mid-way through March and it's shaping up to be the year of relationships. Perhaps all those crazy rabbits (B1 included since he was born in the year of the rabbit too) have been running a little too amuck. Perhaps there have been a few too many full moons already. I don't know what it is. Relationships have been waxing and waning with irritatingly persistent frequency of late. Interestingly, some of the relationships that have been re-ignited have been with old friends.

Friends I had lost contact with more than 20 years ago are suddenly, surprisingly, deliciously popping back into my life. Bringing with them a tingle of excitement at the prospect of revisiting memories, the mild nervousness of facing the reality of now widening and sagging bodies and the joyous expectancy of forging new friendships with these old friends, on new terms, with new-old bodies and more learned minds. This has been a wondrous experience for me, this forging of new-old friendships. Knowing each other as we did as teenagers, but having missed so much of our growing and learning, having missed marriages, children, separations and so much of the waft and weave of our lives since then, it is an extraordinary journey that we now embark on.

There is less of the circling of each other, sniffing out what's appropriate to say, how much is appropriate to reveal than in the making of new friendships, and for this I'm immensely grateful. I've grown impatient with the process of developing new friendships. Though I remain polite and even congenial to people I meet, I really can't be bothered with engaging in social niceties or feeling out the emotional lie of the land. So I'm enjoying this new kind of friendship. I know who these women were and I'm loving who they've come to be. I'm excited at the prospect of knowing them into old age and of intertwining our families.

And I'm immensely grateful and appreciative of all my friendships that nurture me, sustain me, inspire me and push me into the world, more confident of who I am and who I can be.

The Future through an 11 year old's Eyes

While driving to a friends' place for a party to meet her, her husband and their 5 month old baby girl (who all live abroad)...

B1: Amma, you know it's funny to think that one day we'll be at a picnic with Dannie and Maria and their families and I'll be there with my girlfriend and all those little kids will be just coming into high school.

Me: Really? Will you bring your girlfriend along to family picnics? (notice that's the highlight of the conversation for me, not the fact that he sees these family friendships going on forever).

B1: Of course. Why not? Is that ok?

Me: Oh yes! I'm thrilled that you'll choose a girl who would like to come to family events. That makes me very happy. I would like your girlfriend to be part of our family.

B1: Not now. I don't have a girlfriend now, but sometime in the future. When I'm older.

Me: That would make me super happy.

B1: Yeah, it's funny to think about... I'll be able to tell all those little ones what it's like to be in high school and what having a girlfriend is like.

*silence for a while*

B1: But that's a long time away. I don't really want to grow up too quickly. I really like being a kid.

Me: Oh I am glad. Enjoy every second of it. It's such a great time in your life.

This brought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart for ever so many reasons.

Future possibilities for new old tribe in Brazil (click here to link to article)

I read an article in The Independent today about the finding of a previously uncontacted tribe of Yanomamo people with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Excitement that a group of people had managed to survive without coming into contact with any of the rest of the world in what has become a highly populous and industrialised area. How have this tribe of the Yanomamo people, a people studied in incredible minutiae over the decades, managed to escape anthropological scrutiny? It is both wondrous and thrilling; particularly at a time when most of us have assumed that all the world's peoples and cultures have already been identified, studied and impinged upon in some way.

It is, however, an excitement tinged with fear. Fear for these people who have known no other way of life. Fear for the potential loss of their traditional ways, their language, their traditional associations and practices. I hope that history has taught us something. I hope that we have learned from our mistakes with other cultures in other places. I hope we are not destined to repeat the foolishnesses of the past in trying to assimilate these people into dominant cultures before they are ready. I hope we are more clever in our approach to these people, more cognisant of our potential impact on them and their future generations. I have minimal faith in our inherent ability to contact this previously uncontacted tribe without causing intentional or unintentional harm. However, I remain nervously optimistic that we have learned a thing or two.

Amazing name change

At the end of last year, we had occasion in our house to change our ISP. With the resulting change, I had to think about what I wanted my new email address to be. I had used various permutations and combinations of our collective initials over the years, but this time, I wanted it to be more personal. Finally, I lit upon using Amazing Amma.

Amma means mother in Malayalam (my mother tongue) and in other Indian languages and I thought that most clearly reflected where I was at at this stage in my life. It's the role that most clearly defines me and about which I am most passionate. It's the role that fulfils me, stimulates me, engages me, frustrates me, poses the most challenges for me and satisfies me the most. You'd think the "amazing" is self-explanatory...and in fact, many of my friends and contacts did. But things are not always what they seem, and they are rarely straightforward in my world. I decided on Amazing Amma as a epithet because a few years ago, in an attempt to engage B1 and B2 in story telling and story writing, I had created a series of adventures featuring them as super heroes. They fought crime, evil and general naughtiness aided by their super powers (repulsive ones, of course) and their super best buddies. Every now and then though, the super boys would be overcome or undecided about what to do next, at which point, they would consult with their super mother.... Amazing Amma.

Amazing Amma always seemed to know what to do, where to go and how to approach a problem with calm, logical, practical thinking. That's the nice thing about fictional characters, they always know how to fix a problem and they never get angry or upset or lose sleep over stupid things they've said or done! I liked Amazing Amma. I think she's the Amma I aspire to be in many ways (except she doesn't have quite as much fun with her kids as I do with mine). I particularly like her calm self-assuredness. She always seems to have the right answers. I'm fairly certain that's why I used her as my email address... but, like I said before, nothing's ever straightforward in my world, so who knows?!

A new adventure

B1 and B2 started back at school yesterday. B1 is now in high school. A momentous occasion in our family, as it is in families everywhere. B2, on the other hand, has moved into his penultimate year of primary school. There was a heady mix of excitement, nervousness, jealousy (on the part of B2 who thought it was "totally unfair" that B1 got to wear a special tie and do neat stuff in classes) and hopefulness in the car on the way to school.

I was as excited for them starting this new adventure, as they were themselves. I know that B1 will thrive in high school. It feels like he's been in a holding pattern for the last seven years, waiting for something or someone to tell him it's ok to take off. Now it feels like he just got the go-ahead from air-traffic control. He was up super early, had organised lunch boxes for himself and his brother (except the sandwiches, which he left for me to do), made his bed, ate his breakfast, got dressed and was ready to go half an hour early. This was no one-of event either. This morning he had gotten himself organised and made my coffee (he let me do the lunch boxes this time).

B1 has always been an amazing kid; surprising me at every turn. He's always been involved in whatever I'm doing and always been keen to help. There are pictures in the family album of him at 2, standing on a step ladder, making salad. In so many ways, he's braver than I am. He faces the world with a mix of nervous excitement and self-assuredness. I've spent most of his primary school years worrying that he doesn't have enough (or any) friends, only to find that nearly every child in his year is saying hi or bye to him when I pick him up from school. I think I've spent more time worrying about his friends than he has. I admire him that ability to be so self-contained, so happy with who he is, so unquestioning of the love he's surrounded by.

It set him apart in primary school, I think. That was a time when being sociable and gregarious was everything. When having friends, making friends, being friends and losing friends was the raison d'etre. B2 does and will flourish in that environment. He's the gregarious one. He's the one who has inherited those traits from me; the oh-too-noisy-talker, the class clown, the joker, the performer, everybody's friend who is horribly insecure and uncertain of his own abilities. I'm grateful that B1 is more like his father in that way and terrified for B2. Insecurity has stopped me being my best, doing my best and giving my all in so many circumstances. I hope I can help B2 overcome the crippling inaction that accompanies this insecurity.

The Decline of the Picture Book

Image via Wikipedia

I just read an article in the Seattle Times that made me desperately sad for the Picture Book. I love picture books. I have always loved picture books. I even collect some of the more beautiful ones. Among my favourites are The Butterfly Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast by William Plomer and Alan Aldridge (along with the subsequent books, The Peacock Party and The Lion's Cavalcade) and the most exquisitely illustrated copy of Cinderella. The illustrations in this last book, by Moira Kemp are wonderful, whimsical fancies of a stoic young woman who endures all kinds of adversity to finally reap her rich reward. Most of us know the story in one form or another, but this book doesn't pull any punches. Toes are chopped to fit into shoes, eyes are gouged by delicate turtle doves and Cinders gets her man. The story on its own is gruesome and true to the time of writing, but it's the illustrations that lift it to the realm of high art.

More recently, I've been following the extraordinary work of Shaun Tan who can certainly spin a tale with no words at all. This is a huge admission from someone who loves words. And I do love words. I love them so much that I have postgraduate qualifications in Linguistics. So, I think, that to admit that a book can hold its own, can be at least as valuable and wonderful with no words (!!) is truly meaningful and constitutes high praise from me.

I'm not sure why parents shy away from picture books for their children. Perhaps there's a notion that somehow picture books "dumb down" a child. I would beg to differ. In my mind, before words, there are pictures. Before we read and make sense of the world (and even after) we interact with our world through visual images. For those of us who are visual-spatial learners, this is even more the case.

Image via WikipediaSo, it seems to me that picture books are our first foray into using our imaginations and being creative. "But the illustrations are there for us!" I hear you cry. "How can we be creative and imaginative if the picturing is already done for us?". Oh that's easy. Just because we see a picture, doesn't mean that we accept what we see as the entirety of the story. If we did, how could we engage with art? How could we be inspired by La Gioconda or Klimt's The Kiss? Is it only me or do we all imagine what Leonardo da Vinci was saying to Lisa Gherardini to make her smile in such an enigmatic way? Am I the only one that wonders what led the two lovers to be sheathed in gold in Klimt's painting? And how is it that he is so clearly adoring of her and still only kissing her on the cheek, yet she looks so blissfully loved and content? Who are they? Are they lovers or have they come to some deep understanding of each other through years of marriage? What's their story? It's intriguing that nobody really knows, and at this point, I start inventing what I think should be their story.

For me, it's the same for picture books. In the absence of words, I create my own; my own story to go with the pictures so artfully created by others.

...and for the latest update, one of my favourite bloggers on books is also lamenting the decline of the picture book. I'm with you, Book Chook!

The Weight of Possessions

I was reading a quote that resonated with me today. It began;

"I do not seek possessions. Possessions possess the possessor.".

How prophetic, how axiomatic at a time when we're deciding a path for our future. Should we buy the big house and the fancy car and be happy for now? Can we make do with whatever we have and save for a comfortable (more than comfortable, a secure) future? Is the house we live in still meeting our needs? And what exactly are our needs anyway?

And therein lies the key...What are our needs in this modern world we live in? It seems easy, even flippant to say that our needs never change, that the basics; food, water, shelter are our only real needs. I think it downplays the fact that our needs are actually ever changing. It might seem frivolous or even pretentious to think that we actually need more than our parents needed; or our grandparents. However, I'm inclining to the thought that each generation's "needs" are different.

The basic human needs never change, of course, but if we assume that having our needs fulfilled is what makes us happy, productive members of society, then we have to concede that our needs differ with changing society and technology.

Are my children ingrates to suggest that they "need" an iTouch? Perhaps. However, given how much of education is now being delivered through recorded lectures/lessons on iTunes, given how many truly worthwhile educational applications there are, I'm not so sure anymore. I know that my parents thought it outrageous when I presented the argument to them, while at university, that I "needed" a computer, yet now, there are few homes we're familiar with that don't have at least one computer (and often many more!).

Does this justify rampant consumerism? No. I don't think so. Certainly not in my book anyway. I still believe in encouraging the children to save for things they really want. It's still important to LomL and me that they earn what they desire and that gratification is delayed, not instantaneous. Encouragingly, B1 and B2 are still as thrilled with toys from the thrift shop or $2 shop as they are with the big, expensive presents. I'm grateful that they still see the value in giving to those less fortunate in life or those with less means or access. I hope we're instilling these important values in them and I hope that they don't become possessed by possessions.