A Day in a Life -- October 31, 2012

Amazing how one day just rolls into another -- lately, it feels that days whiz by so quickly I have a hard time distinguishing one from the other.  Each day, my mantra is to remind myself to slow down and relish the moment...each day I find myself catching myself -- almost hyperventilating, trying to quiet my rapidly pulsating heartbeat -- trying to accomplish my list of things to do.  Things to do that do not seem to diminish...each "X" for errand done, action item completed, meeting attended getting replaced by more of the same...

So I ask myself:  Do I need to crawl into a cave, get dropped off at some remote island or desert to get away from everything to have some peace and quiet?  Perhaps...but what is the next best thing?

Today I decided to just lay low.  Work at home, write some, read a chapter or two from the three different paperbacks laying neglected on the coffee table and watch the San Francisco Giant's Parade on TV.  Not understanding the finer points of baseball, neither having sit through any of this year's game, I can't say I am an expert or fan.  I can appreciate that the Giants are from the Bay Area and that whatever will contribute to the feeling of community and pride is a good thing.  I almost contemplated taking BART and being in the midst of the ticker tape parade -- just to say "I've been".  So much energy from the crowd, the newscasters and the returning ball players.

On the other side of the continent -- in New York and other East Coast states residents are far from celebratory.  Whereas thousands of San Franciscans enjoys the wet-free weather and the return of their heroes, New Yorkers are dealing with the reality of flooded subways, no electricity or heat, weather-battered homes -- some beyond repair and cold weather.  Today's news coverage spoke of the resiliency of the locals, how some despite ruined homes refusing to leave because they have nowhere else to go.  Many interviews with scholars and experts on global warming and its deleterious effects on natural calamities such as storms, hurricanes, earthquakes  -- and so on.  The familiar battle cry: our responsibility towards the planet and what are we going to do about it?

Leading to the election coverage.  Much ado about predicting who might be ahead -- Romney, Obama -- based on this or that survey or poll.  It seems like a half-hearted attempt to keep the public interested despite being upstaged by the Giant's victory parade on one side and the devastating catastrophe in the Eastern front.  Election for the presidency a few days away.  Oh, yes...for those that partake in the celebration, it is Halloween.

The TV droning along in the background, the back door wide opened allowing a glimpse of my garden and to top it all of off -- a steaming hot cup of Chai Tea, warm sweater and socks...What else can one ask for?  Now, I'm really feeling it!!!

Pictorial vignettes of Hajj

Every year about two to three million Muslims leave their homes and families to travel across the globe and spend several intense days of pilgrimage.  For each individual who partake in this ritual, the experience is personal and for most part, a once in a lifetime thing.  I was fortunate to be able to go twice.  The difference between the first and second time is amazingly stark.  Modernity and the catering to the more affluent pilgrims a seeming priority to the keepers of the Kaaba.

Today marks the end of yet another Hajj season.  For the past several days, I had pulled out the photo album, mulling over memories, laughing out loud at some of the funnier memories, giving lightness to the sanctity of ritual.  Many have written about Hajj...I chose ONLY certain impressions which I highlight here. 

Typical garb for the male pilgrim, two pieces of white cloth draped across their bodies and open-toed sandals.

Looming skyscrapers dominate the sacred sites...a sharp contrast between the modern and the ancient.

Catering and welcoming to Western travelers, many amenities surround and tantalize travelers, from shopping malls to fast foods -- even something for the die-hard Starbucks coffee drinkers.  Scoped out a more private, intimate location, a hotel with its own Starbucks, full length window offering a view from above -- the Prophet's Mosque in Medinah...a perfect spot to people watch.

Muslims only chance to eat halal fast food...loaded up with burgers and fried chicken...reward for the physically demanding and strenuous schedule of the pilgrimage.  Yummy!!!

Folding gigantic umbrellas lining the expanse of the mosque, affording shade to those who choose to be outside during prayers in the heat of the day, conjuring up images of robotic aliens invading...Once opened, they look like graceful mushrooms exploding upwards.

Ahh, the power of the English language...I had several instances of "losted" pilgrims...mostly elderly folks who somehow strayed away from their group and would patiently sit outside a storefront, not understanding a word of Arabic or wandering around aimlessly...

 Not everyone can afford the comfort of an air-conditioned tent with 6-inch foams for beds...how far removed from pilgrimages of olden days.

 

The tent city of Mina, rows upon rows of white topped canvas stretching miles; one can easily lose one's way and literally be wandering around for hours.

Escalators everywhere.  Some pilgrims have never even such monstrosity...scenes of elderly paralyzed by fear, unable to step on to the moving staircase.

 A few days in Jeddah.  A glimpse of what the rhythm of life usually is like away from the frenzied intensity of millions of pilgrims convened in one spot.

 View of Medinah from the hotel room window.

 The local boys in Mina who made sure the hajjis (pilgrims) had continuous supply of black tea, milk and sugar.

 A trail of debris and trash...recycling and liter containment should be a future goal for the Saudi Arabia's Hajj committee.

Cellphones...I noticed almost everyone had them.  Big business at Hajj time it seems...capitalizing on travelers that need to get in touch with their loved ones back home...I was completely aghast that people were even preoccupied with sending text messages, conversing mindlessly while going around the Kaaba, the black enshrouded structure that is the holiest of Islamic sites... the invasion of technology.

Cause to reflect and take in the sights...no better camera than the mind's eye.

STAYCATION

It is a Sunday morning, the hum of the clothes dryer serving as background music to my otherwise peaceful morning.  The window wide opened, so I can smell and hear the outside; overcast, drizzly weather heralding the coming of Fall. The kids and I had planned a weekend trip to see their older brother at college but he was not going to be available so we had to adjust our itinerary.  Outrageously high gas prices, the distance, hotel expenses etc...all coming in to factor...but get away for the weekend we must.  For the sake of my sanity, walking away from the demands of work is a step towards taking care of myself.  The answer: STAYCATION!

I was amused and bemused to see that this word actually made it to the dictionary.  Definition:  STAYCATION (noun):  "a vacation spent in one's home country than abroad, or one spent at home and involving day trips to local attractions".  Thus, armed with 3/4 of a tank of gas, we piled into the car and headed south, making a stop at my kid's favorite halal Chinese restaurant.  I figured we'd start from there, warming up our bellies with good eats, a soft sell for the day's success and everyone's good mood.  It worked!  The kids ordered the food that their Baba normally would, a testament of their sadness that he is absent.  Stories and recollections of past trips, looking around neighboring tables at exotic dishes we'd never seen or ordered before.  "That looks good. We REALLY should try that next time."

Then another hour's drive to walk around a celebrated premium outlet store -- just so we could say "we've been there, done that!" -- boasting of over 200 stores, we just went to the ones we were interested in...Coach, Banana Republic, Adidas...after awhile, I was felt like a zombie with feet dragging and a thirst to sit down.  Thank God for Starbucks, my last ditch for coffee. Nomadic in nature, I chose a different route to come back to the Bay Area, opting to go over a sinewy one lane highway across wooded areas, smelling of Eucalyptus trees and fresh, wholesome air.  25 or 30 minutes of this, we finally made it to the other side, happy to see familiar buildings, grocery stores and wall to wall homes...civilization.  My kids content with whatever or wherever I decided to do. They were having fun.

The beach...it was nearing 5 pm and we managed to find parking.  It was perfect beach weather and there were tons of people, either strolling along the quaint storefronts, ice cream cones or coffee cups in hand.  We found black clad surfers atop their boards, paddling listlessly on the calm waters -- looking out expectantly for that "giant" wave to ride....sorry! I enviously watched several people on beach chairs or sprawled across their blanket, lost in the world of book reading -- oblivious.  Sigh! That used to be me, I thought to myself.  We beach watched for a while..."Let's go for some ice cream".  Home made ice cream cookie sandwiches for the kids, a bottle of water for myself.  We sat at a bus stop to watch other people watching us.

"I am stuffed!" my daughter rubs her belly as if she was expecting a child.  "Are you guys hungry for dinner?" No, they decided not -- but we can't leave until we go downtown, where I knew there was Peet's Coffee for the road.  More walking, more store looking and people watching.  Peet's closed for remodeling, I opted to get a cup of soy chai from the local roasting coffee place -- across from Starbucks.  Ha, ha...I reminisced about the past, when I used to live in this area...strolled the same streets, pushing my oldest in a stroller.  It is now transformed into something remotely recognizable.  Twenty years is a LONG time...ago...

The drive home was uneventful.  Quicker, as I am used to the windy roads of that highway.  The kids and I were glad get home -- but we were even gladder that once again, we have added yet another treasured jewel to our collection of family memories.

Guest Blog: Loyalties and friendship by Mimi

NOT THIS AGAIN, I think as I sit in the cafeteria feeling dejected. All of my friends left me-- well rather ditched me. The day had started out just fine I was happily joking around with my two best friends  who we will call B and J!  "I have to go to my locker" I said and I left them talking about something I had no clue about.   I don't have many classes with them so at mid morning when we have PE they sort of just snuff me over. "Hi guys" I say. No response. "Ehem-- are you guys okay?"... Nothing. My palms start to sweat so I just leave them alone thinking they need some space. After my PE teacher explains what we will be doing that day, we start during the running session my two friends come up to me and say "Hi ,did you notice blah,blah,blah,blah!" I don't respond if they were ignoring me why should I respond now? "Why don't you talk?" one of them says after twenty minutes of awkward silence "Takes up too much energy" I say, knowing full well it doesn't.

I run ahead leaving them at the fifth lap me on my seventh.  After we finish the run, we have to pair partners and I had forgotten I was mad at them so when I go up to them, they say "Oh, she's talking again...we've TOTALLY forgotten about you." B says. "Why don't you pair up with her?" she adds pointing to an empty space in the field. "Okay fine, let's just make a group of three" says J.  I spend  the rest of the period trying NOT to be decapitated by the frisbee. By the end of the hour, I'm infuriated by the fact that every time I'd get hit by the frisbee, my friends would giggle. I'm SO glad that for the next two periods both of  "my friends" are not in my class .

The two periods seem to drag on for hours. By the time the lunch bell rings I'm already at the door. I am abruptly put on hold when my friend D asks me for my History notes. "I'm so hungry I think I have to go" I tell her after ten minutes. Then I stand in line for another ten minutes to get my lunch that consists of bread,  mustard and ice. I look for my friends in the cafeteria. "Hey guys," I say "Yeah... " says J.  I sit down "Did you guys look for me?"  "No" they both respond at the same exact time. That offends me ... do true friends do this kind of thing?  I wonder... then they just walk off not saying anything.  I follow them feeling a bit unwanted. When they go into the bathroom I did the same even though I don't really need to . Oh well. Suddenly I hear the bathroom door to the outside close...They left me. That is the last straw!!!

When History class rolls around I'm so dazed in own my misery that I don't notice that my teacher has called on me. She walks up to my paper and asks me why I'm writing so small . Easy, I want to tell her because I feel small. I don't know if that make sense but ... I shrug it off, and she walks away looking at other students papers. I shrink back in my seat.

The next day at school I feel smaller than ever when B comes up and says" I know you're mad you're not like this STOP!" She tells me. I say "I don't want to talk" I try to walk away but she blocks me from doing so. By lunch time I feel so light headed and drowsy I want to cry. "Hey, sit over here" says E., my BFF last year whom I don't talk to much because we don't have many classes together. She makes room for me on her table and gives me some of her crackers "Is everything alright?" she asks. "No, my friends ditched me." "Oh forget them you have me!" she gives me a hug.  Sierra and Sophia my other friends from last year make me feel welcome as well, they give me a cupcake just because... My new OLD friends are very loyal and I love them!

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My comments:  I think it 's hard enough to sort out and navigate the challenging and confusing ways of the world, as a "tween" or "teenager" -- raging hormones, defining identity, weaning their way out of the nest's fold but not really wanting that -- save for the collective drive of their peers. It is good to check in on our kids -- NO MATTER WHAT AGE!  I heard a very respectable high school teacher once said, that despite their towering heights and seeming need for space and independence, what our youth needs among other things, is for someone to tell them, they are loved...and that they are doing an AWESOME job!  Include a hug and a kiss while you're at it...Here's to all the "tweens" and"teenagers"!!!

On Parenting

I have always been a quiet, obedient child -- at least, I thought I was.  Except on one or two occasion when I put Mom over the edge and she would prophetically say: "You are doing this to me now...wait 'til you have your own children.  You will see..." and then her voice would ominously trail off into the distance.

Well, my Mom is approaching her late 70's and she must be secretly having a blast at my expense.  Sigh...raising children is NO joke! Whew!  It's akin to getting on the "Stair Master" at the gym and putting the machine on interval training -- the 30 minutes of excruciating ups and downs, easy and hard steps replicated into a lifetime experience of just that -- times the number of kids you bore into this world.

I often sit and wonder how my Mom did it with seven -- yes, count it SEVEN kids -- plus juggle a full time job and husband.  Of late, I find myself sighing a lot or when I really can't take anymore, I find myself engaged in planning the perfect get away vacation:  Hawaii, Istanbul, Dubai, Australia....anywhere but here.  Mostly, I hide in the bathroom or my walk-in closet; shutting the door and sitting on the floor and relishing the dark and quiet.

Sometimes, I would tell my children that I no longer answer to the name of "Mom" and that I had changed my name and persona to something else...you know, like those people that assume a new identity under a police agency protective program.

But my kids are pretty adept at finding me out.  I am the forever lost and found and can-you-fix this or that department of our household...even if the thing searched for is right under their very noses..."Ah but Mom, you know where everything is..."

I also happen to be the broken record that amplifies the same request, command, demand and finally ULTIMATUM for things conveniently not done -- like the monstrous collection of smelly clothes in my son's bedroom, or my daughter's trail of discarded garments, as if she was a snake who constantly shedded old skin. " Whaaat are THESE THINGS?"

I would flail my arms around like a crazed person, wondering why on earth I was the only one NOT BOTHERED by MESS.  How did my Mom train her seven children to pick up after themselves?  I remember our home being immaculately clean, with not a piece of furniture or item out of place...otherwise, the venom of my Mom would unleash -- like a dragon spitting fire.  Her words, her looks were so deadly -- to this day I remember and stand in attention.

She trained us well...I must say; which brings the conversation back to me.  "Am I doing something wrong?" I would lament to my husband -- who was quick to point out that we have good kids, GREAT kid as a matter of fact...he would tap me on the shoulder and move on to his next scheduled appointment or meeting....sigh!  This would go on until as if woken from a catatonic sleep, my husband would one day realize and notice the same disorder, the same smells and THE SAME MESS!  He would bellow like Hurricane Katrina and then...

Like an aftermath, the kids would get down, scoop up their clothes, fold them, vacuum, sweep and wash dishes – down to the pots, even. No kidding, right?  Like trained military personnel on basic training they accomplish their chores – just like that! Hmmmm..."Perhaps, I should go to your appointments and meetings and you stay home..." I offered to the father of my children.

People Watching

Nothing to do but look around.  Sure, I loaded my bag with two paperbacks, a journal and I-pad; not to mention my prayer beads and cellphone.  I was in it for the long haul  -- two hours minimum, I figured.  A roomful of people at the dental clinic...a perfect place to people watch.

There was the Hispanic mom with three kids, the boy about four years of age trying to put the blue disposable mask over his eyes instead of his mouth, walking up and down to pass the time.  No elevator music here...just the sound of an officious voice over the intercom, faceless, making announcements for this or that.  Dentists clad in blue smocks, scanning the roomful of seated patients -- bright smiles and warm handshakes once the proper person identified.  Nearby, two men engaged in an animated conversation with their hands -- signing.

My daughter, son and I stared hypnotized by the silent interchange in front of us, bursting with energy, from the rapid, graceful dance of the hands and fingers to the voiceless mouthing of words. "I really want to learn that!" -- uttered my 12 year old.  (She had been studying sign language on line, inspired by the show "Switched at Birth").   Many other voices in the background, a symphonic play of languages amidst movement of bodies, up and down --

Just as the waiting area was almost bursting to explosion with people of all sizes,ages and color -- after about 10 minutes or so it was as if an invisible vacuum cleaner had cleared  the room and left only a handful of people; serenely toying with their cellphones, reading books or just staring off into space lost in thought...

Other places to people watch?  Airports, cafes, parks...restaurants, lines at the post office, bank, check out counter...waiting, waiting, watching, watching...imagining.  Where else?

A Special Guest Blog: "CANCER" by Ibrahim

My family and I would usually visit my Lola and Lolo's house every other Saturday.  We would all hop in the car for an hour long drive until we hit the exit and see a statue of a Native American with a sign reading "Welcome to Cotati".  My grandparents don't live in Cotati but they live in Rohnert Park.  We would arrive in my grandparent's driveway, knock on the door and wait for them to open the garage door.  My Lola or Grandma always preferred us to enter through the garage.  I always wondered why but never bothered to ask.  As we entered the house, I see my Lola scanning all of us, trying to catch something wrong or out of place so that she could point it out and crack a little joke; she loves to tease us.  I also saw my Lolo or Grandpa smiling, he was always jubilant when he has company around.  He teased me by calling me "Abraham" in his strong Filipino accent.  Then he's turn to my little sister and ask her if she still knew how to dance, he would then say, "Dance Sanapoknay"...no one ever knew what it meant but whenever he said it to her she automatically was puzzled and he would always start to laugh so hard.  We would then go into the living room and watch television; my grandma would always get confused with the different TV shows.  After a few hours, we would leave.  Before we left, my Lolo would tell me to take care of my family and gave me a five dollar bill.  Abraham Lincoln was the president on the five dollar bill.  As we would drive out of the driveway, my grandparents would stand outside waving goodbye.  We would wave back at them from the car until we could no longer see them.  I didn't know my Lolo was going to have surgery a week later.

A week later my mom got a phone call from my Uncle Luis saying that my Lolo's surgery was unsuccessful and that he would have to get another surgery in order to stay healthy or live.  So once again we drove up to my grandparent's house; this time, we spent the night because my grandma was staying by herself.  Once we got to the house instead of entering the house to see a happy old couple, we see my grandma crying at the kitchen table.  She was already dressed and ready to go because my mom promised her that we would take her to the hospital.  The hospital was in Santa Rosa which was about 15 minutes away.  When we got to the hospital the butterflies were nagging my stomach; I wasn't sure about what condition my Grandpa would be in.  We got to the room and he was asleep.  Lolo had tubes running all over his body as if he was wrapped in a spider web.  He didn't look happy but he didn't look sad either.  An hour passed by while we all stood over my Lolo talking about life, always including him in the conversation without him even talking.  We prayed, said goodbye and then we left the hospital.  The car ride home was mostly silent except my sister promising my Lola that she would one day become a lawyer.

From day to day we would go back and forth from home to Rohnert Park to Santa Rosa.  We constantly did this until my grandpa's surgery was over which was about 3 weeks.  Those were the fastest three weeks of my life.  During those three weeks, I would mostly stay with my cousins, Khai and L'jin.  Khai was the same age as I and L'jin was a year younger than my sister.  We would have so much fun with our cousins playing video games, board games, swimming and anything to get our minds off our grandpa and his surgery.  L'jin was always the kind of smart ass, always trying to be a little rebel and Khai was the responsible one, she never wanted to get in trouble.  Throughout those three weeks I got to see a lot of different family members.  My oldest brother flew in from Oregon.

My grandpa was in ICU.  His body was slowly giving up on him.  They gave him extra oxygen and put him on a respirator.  His kidneys were starting to fail.  I think it was because the cancer must have spread to where his kidneys were.  At this point, my Lola had called all her children to come to town.  We gave my Lolo two days to recover.  My mom slept at the hospital both nights.  She called us and told us whenever my Lolo would show any good signs.  My Lola on the other hand was speechless for those two days.  All of her kids were staying at her house so we all squished in there except for my Mom and Uncle Luis who were at the hospital. On the last day we all made a special prayer.  At this point, the respirator and the other machines were the only things keeping my grandpa alive.  The next day everyone was to be at the hospital by 4 o'clock.  I went early with my Uncle Jonathan.  We waited outside for everyone to come and he showed me his iPhone.  I got to play a couple of games.  My Uncle Jonathan would always have the newest technology that came out.

At about 3:30 p.m., everyone was at the hospital a little early.  Everyone was crowded in the small little room -- my uncles, aunties and cousins taking their last glances at my Grandfather who was looking extremely pale.  Everyone was to say their last words.  Once the first person spoke who I think was my Uncle Jose who is the oldest in the family, everyone started crying.  We all went around saying our last words to my Lolo...My Lola was the last one to talk before they pulled the plug, "I love you, and I'll be with you soon, Sweetheart!"  That was the one thing I remembered her saying.

My Lolo was on his own now fighting for his life, you could see his skin slowly turning blue.  He was pronounced dead at around 4 o'clock August 4th 2010.  I remember afterwards that I went downstairs to the cafeteria and bought my favorite snack -- Baked Hot Cheetos from the vending machine.  After that I don't remember anything...I don't remember leaving the hospital or anything.

It's been 2 years since my Lolo died.  Now every time I go to my grandparent's house, we take Lola to see my Lolo to the cemetery.  My grandma hasn't been the same since.  Sure she still cracks a joke here and there, but she's just sad.  I used to think my Grandpa would live forever but now I know that it's impossible...it's impossible for anyone else to live forever. That is why now I try to cherish every single moment I have with my family because you'll never know if you're ever going to see each other again.  So make the times you have with your love ones count; each second a precious moment.