With 2014 is just days away, Sidd, Paul, Molly & I wish you the best in the New Year.
Another Year Goes By, © 2013, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
As in past years, we pray this note finds you safe, sound, healthy and happy. If things are tough our prayers are with you - and there is the saying, (if one chooses to believe in a higher power) that "we are only tested to the extent we can overcome the test; what’s needed is to discover the breadth of our own abilities."
Halloween 2004: Sidd's first, just 1 year and 2 months old; Paul's second. I had the idea of dressing Sidd as an athlete at the Beijing Olympics. Molly got an outfit from Chinatown in Boston and I made a sash akin to that worn at the opening ceremonies.
We were greeted at the first house by a lady in her 60s. She melted into teary eyed smiles, overwhelmed by the deafening cuteness of the two baby boys. After tossing a couple of candies into Paul's outstretched bag, she paused for Sidd, but he simply looked up at her and smiled.
I nudged him so that his tiny arms held out his tiny bag. The lady tossed in a couple of candies. Puzzled, Sidd peered down into the bag, back at her, and back to the bag. Then those furrowed eyebrows cleared up, and with a big smile he reached down, grabbed the candy and tossed it back on to her tray. A tiny, mischievous laugh erupted. His face beamed, "hey, I can play this game, lady!"
She looked at me, thunderstruck. "Never in 36 years, NEVER, has a child given back candy to me. Most don't even say thank you. You have one amazingly generous little one!" Sidd was still squealing with laughter, and just staring at her.
I tried to clarify that he had no clue how Halloween “works,” & that this may change in the coming years (believe me, it has). But to no avail: she would not buy any of it.
We only went to a few more homes as the Boston night air was a bit cold yet the same ritual played itself out. Sidd was having so much fun he would try to trot ahead when we arrived at a new house. A little boy's mis-interpretation translated into big-hearted generosity that left him short of candy, but having a ball and handing out an unexpected Treat on Halloween.
Sidd, the Olympic Hopeful...; Paul, Your Friendly Neighborhood Honey Bear, © 2004, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Sidd turns 10 today - 10 solid, unfailing years of joy. So here are the words of a “proud pappa” - - you will need to bear with me as I am quite beside myself with elation.
He is smart, affectionate, bursting with energy, fart jokes (and farts too, to be frank,) a great fan of his own comedy, and for the most part quick to come to a decision. He's his brother's best friend, and vice versa. The chap loves long, meandering and all too mumbled a conversation, not just with his peers, but with his grandparents, aunts / uncles and cousins. And because of the good guidance of his older bro, he has become a voracious reader.
His over-confidence may get him into trouble (as example this past spring, when as a 3rd grader he played soccer with 6th graders at some personal risk to himself) but it also will mean he will try new things. His current schtick when asked a question is to start his response, "Here is my answer with no hesitation…" So far, he doesn’t tie his outcomes so tightly to himself that it makes him gun-shy on the next round: when an endeavor or effort fails, he usually shrugs it off with a laugh, "well, I guess that was not very good."
Like Paul, he has embraced snooty foods but is more of a carnivore: as you see here he is sitting happily with cheeses, especially smoked gouda (his preferred temptation after my dad introduced it to him), hot Capicola, and a brick of Callibaut French milk chocolate. Nice choices, Sidd!
Happy as a Clam, at Big John's PFI in Seattle...; Back at Home with friends, Chocolate, Gouda and Capicola, © 2013, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
How lucky I am today - I have not one but two children blessed many times over with more goodness that I could ever expect.
SIdd @ 10, © 2013, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Eleven blustery years ago, Paul Sebastian Allessandro Pachikara came barreling into this grand world, bristling with ideas, observations, a hearty laugh and a big heart. I am so very proud of how he is growing up, but a bit wistful at the speed of time.
I don't know where the future will go as 6th Grade means no more daily meandering walks home with Sidd (Paul needs to now take the bus), more workload, more juggling. But I am deeply blessed by the chap he is turning into. Life is full of blessings and surprises, and Paul and Sidd are the most humbling yet.
Paul @ 11, © 2013, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
In the toddler era, magic exists and is real, plain and simple. For example, the anticipation of a visit by the Tooth Fairy for a newly fallen tooth. First she is a mystical being, magically swapping a precious tooth for a well earned buck. A "few teeth later", she is someone from whom a service is expected. Then it transitions to a re-assuring tradition but not one that meets increasing expectations.
And then, logic and knowledge crowd their way into one's conscience. Concepts like "permanent teeth," and how they naturally push out “baby teeth.” Magic of a medical kind, yes, but, well, it extracts a dear expense: the tooth fairy's sparkle fades a bit. As interesting to me is how one does not immediately realize when an "old era" is fading. There's usually a new tradition or habit distracting us away.
Envelope 1: An Early Request, © 2011, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Envelope 2: Clearer and Bolder, © 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Envelope 3: Pushing for Too Much, Perhaps? © 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Another year has passed so quickly – even Paul now comments about time’s quick pace, “I can’t believe summer is already gone, dad!”
Sidd, Paul, Molly and I send our best wishes for a very Merry Christmas during this holiday season. As said in past years, we pray this note finds you safe, sound, healthy and happy. We have been blessed many times over with treasures, time and talents and the year has seen us continue to grow and change.
How history repeats itself! This time, in Yakima, WA where we joined friends to pick apples and taste wine.
The late afternoon found us parked on a lawn and the youngsters magically took up the very tradition I suddenly recalled vividly from grade school.
That is: meandering conversations while staring up at clouds trundling lazily across the sky, the cool sensation of grass underneath, the dull warmth of the sun above.
What made this possible? Manitoba-style summers - - 75 degrees Fahrenheit, low humidity, big sky, pure sunshine. Simply change the location, to eastern Washington.
Enjoying the Sunshine
© 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Joel Orbits the Conversation in the Middle
© 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Brothers helping brothers. Likewise, sisters helping sisters, and siblings in general helping each other. It happens across geographies, time and culture.
Here is my dad and his younger brother, Ellisuncle, getting ready for the wedding of my cousin Aruna. And one hotel room over is my son Paul, with the same intense focus helping his younger brother, Sidd, with his zipper tie. (Yes, a zipper tie. Hard to know what sort of help is needed.)
Age-wise, ~60 years separates these two pairs. Yet a blessed pattern repeats itself.
Dad Helps His Younger Brother Get Ready
© 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Paul Helps His Younger Brother Get Ready
© 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Here’s an engaging set of gentlemen: a grandfather and his two grandsons.
Dressed up for a snappy event and ready to make their way thru the evening’s crowd of party goers.
The younger two have the optimism, energy and unfettered whimsy of youth. The older one carries the wisdom, appreciation and peacefulness of years of great work helping thousands of patients, staying involved with immediate and extended family, and applying nuanced lessons from many journeys.
(Perhaps due to my outsized interest in Mafia stories like The Godfather and The Sopranos, I personally saw a benign version of a Mafia Don and two Consiglieri. I know, I know, it’s a stretch.)
Together they create a rare brew, a natural fit with each other.
Sidd Looking Pensive; Paul in His Hand Picked Fedora
© 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
9. Yes, he is now 9.
And, yes, he still tracks his birthday’s like NORAD monitoring an ICBM coming from Siberia. Certainly, things are evolving perceptibly – I did notice he’s not as vocal about the birthday, the excitement is not as unbridled. But unchanged is the underlying anticipation, & birthday related questions that casually arise 10 weeks prior to the event. “I wonder what Susieauntie will get me…” “That would be so cool to have a party when we visit Pappa and Momma in Atlanta, and Amma and Appa in Murphysboro, AND then have one at home.” “I hope Grant comes to my birthday…”
Sidd @ 9, © 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
So how else is Sidd changing?
If there is one relentless anchor (aside from his brother, parents and extended family) it is Legos. The mythology of Bionicles, the trance-like immersion when using the actual bricks, the ephemeral ideas so vividly created so rapidly by each new contraption. On many mornings, I seem him up early, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought on how to create a new gizmo. It is humbling how something so seemingly simple can keep his interest. (Long overdue is the well earned induction of Legos’ creators into the Nobel Prize’s hall of fame.)
The other constant: his deep engagement with his brother, Paul. They wrestle together, increasingly chat about school, go round and round with fart jokes until they melt onto the floor from the exhaustion of laughing, and generally show support for each other. This may change as time goes on, but so far, its been a deep collaboration.
To celebrate Paul’s 10th birthday, we had a “Lego expert” come over and throw a Lego party. 6,000 bricks. 90 minutes of continuous instruction. Drills on the names of specific pieces. These boys were in the presence of one of their modern day shaman working the true magic of Lego as they had never seen before.
Outcome: mesmerized, silent attention. No fart jokes. No crazed rampaging, wrestling, throwing, jumping. Not even a desire for Nintendo, Playstation, etc. Just hard core questions about why this piece and not that. Rapid iterating and reworking of the assignment. The instructor was nothing short of a mystic, casting a spell that Rasputin would have envied.
To add to the sense of mystery: at the end of the session, all the boys frantically helped the instructor put away the thousands of bricks into their exact locations in the myriad of boxes. Yes, the same boys who struggle to notice the disarray they create all around themselve on any other day. Not sure where we had “gone to,” but damn it was amazing.
Once the session ended, it was time for burgers, fries and cake. The familiar characteristics of time and space returned. Will we do it again? Shoot I sure hope so.
Getting Drilled, © 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Boxes and Boxes of Fabulous Bricks, © 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
A Triumphant Day: Legos, Burgers, Cake, © 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
I am again humbled at the speed of time. Here we are at Paul’s 10th birthday. Just “yesterday” he was just a rolly, polly little tike hyperventilating as he considered the thrill of trying to walk 3 feet.
So much has changed.
He is far more athletic than say at age 6. Physically, he is still sinewy as last year; and mentally, he is an abstract thinking lad. More importantly, he is pretty much fearless. He will try new things, stand up to an opponent in soccer or basketball games, get in front of his class to share his POV, and do so with a smile. I have hundreds of game photos of him, in the throws of a soccer game, big Cheshire cat smile on his mug. Even his coaches will raise this – “the one thing about Paul, he is always enjoying his time on the field.” We should all hope for this outcome when we are immersed in combat, no? Actually, it must be a bit unnerving to engage him.
And his somewhat introverted ways shield him (so far) from worrying too much what others think. I would have never realized introverts carry this advantage without seeing him in action. He undertakes a course of action because, well, he wants to; other opinions don’t have much gravity. (How do we preserve this way of thinking?)
Computers and him have some manner of intersection. Two weeks ago my mobile phone rang. This is Abe, I said. “Dad, it’s me. DId you know you can make shapes in Microsoft Word? Like triangles and boxes? It is amazing!” If that rocked his world, you should have seen his reaction to “Track Changes” in Word. “Wow! That is amazing! I have to use this!” Really? What, in your homework? Are you pulling my leg or does this really wind you up?
Paul’s dramatic manner of viewing the world is articulated elsewhere also. “Dad, it rained so hard today, it felt like the whole world was weeping!” Today I say more prayers of thanks for such a treasure wafting its way into my life.
Paul @ 10, © 2012, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
I recall Father's Day back in 2008 when Sidd’s classroom had an event for fathers to join. I came 5 minutes late. I was ambling down the hallway in the school and saw his face peaking around the edge of the doorway, hoping to see me. Immediately, he came trotting out, whispered "come on Dad" in his soft spoken voice, grabbed my hand and led me into the room.
I realized (once again) how much these small moments count and reinforce our relationships, how I had in truth trivialized it in my head, and how missing such an occasion is a much bigger deal than I had realized.
I had put much less weight into my attendance than he had. On the way back to work, I said a small prayer of thanks that I had NOT missed this event for some pedestrian commitment at the office - I do that far too often. Again, good dumb luck had prevailed over ignorance. Make no mistake, I have certainly had precious moments occur without my attendance. But I have come to realize the experiences we create with our family and friends are among our most sublime treasures.
Father’s Day, 2008 with Dad, © 2008, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Over time I have come to a sobering realization: all around are relationships at a standstill. They are not divorcing anytime soon, but they are living in an environment lacking some combination of companionship, intimacy and whimsy. It is akin to an unemployed person who no longer looks for work.
It is best described by a very close friend who, still in shock, shared the comment of one of long time drinking buddies, “Yeah, me and the wife are going to stay together until our youngest one gets in to college. Then we’re done. Definitely we’re getting a divorce.”
For most of my life, I have surmised (incorrectly) from the upbeat mood of a social event that the couples present are engaged and catalyzed by each other. The shine of the event is literally spillover from the fruits of productive relationships.
But in truth, most if not virtually all these events do not compel spouses to socialize together the way a three legged race requires tightly coordinated, tandem motion to win the race. The social occasions allow interactions as individuals.
This distracts away from the truth of the matter. One may incorrectly conclude (as I have) that the laughing, ruminating, and listening one sees in the individuals means the twosomes are therefore close, affectionate, and supportive away from this scene. All the trappings of healthy relationships.
What we don't see is the chemistry when the couples are back in their cars, heading home, nor how they engage once under their own roof. Many years ago, a Married Encounter weekend termed this as "married singles." I ponder that observation a lot.
My oh my, I am shocked how far away a loved one goes when they die. I personally find it so hard to get used to the total and complete absence of their physical presence – there is just not a trace of them to be found. I keep expecting them to come thru a doorway, to call, to bump into them at a get together of the usual personalities, to see them at a table sitting.
Yet, they keep showing up, unannounced, into my thoughts. It is maddening how I cannot predict the next time a rumination will come into my head that is related to them. Places. Food. Stories. People. They hit me with the speed and sting of a jab by Mohammed Ali. Before I can see it, it has struck and I am lucky if it only stings; many times it feels like a freight train with 117 cars rumbling thru me. Please Lord, just let me know it is coming, will you? I don’t like it when these remembrances come unannounced and uninvited in the middle of my drive home, a call, or a meeting at work.
Of some solace after a long search was the following prayer, which has helped me greatly:
Prayer for the Dead
God of life,
Those whom we love die,
but our relationship to them continues.
Lead me to be thankful for all that they have shown me
about loving deeply, living wisely, and knowing You.
Help me to notice those
moments of my life
when I act, think, or believe
because of something
that they have brought
to birth in me.
Remind me to pray for them
and to ask for their assistance
in my need.
Even though I miss them deeply,
allow me to understand we still belong together
and will one day embrace again in your kingdom.
Amen
Another Christmas has blustered upon us, and Sidd, Paul, Molly and I send you a heartfelt Happy Holidays!
As said in past years, we pray this note finds you safe, sound, healthy and happy. We have been blessed many times over with treasures, time and talents and the year has seen us continue to grow and change. (Bored already? Well here’s the whimsical eCard from last year, updated with current photos - - it may take a moment to load.)
The Best Fall Colors in Years, © 2011, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
My mom’s older sister, Monikochamma was in Bangalore several years ago and intent on visiting the Missionaries of Charity location in the city and making a donation. The autoricksha driver was struggling to find the location and after getting lost a couple of times, finally relented, “It is somewhere close, madam, but you will need to walk now.”
Undaunted, she proceeded on foot, occasionally asking for directions from people in the neighborhood. This can be exhausting as many will confidently provide directions even if wildly incorrect. Finally a lady sweeping the front walk waved Monikochamma forward, “You’re close, you just need to go around this corner and in the gate.”
At last she had arrived. She was greeted by a nun, who gave a tour of the facility and staff. Monikochamma made a donation and then asked, “Does Mother Teresa ever come to Bangalore? I know she may be in one of the locations but I would love to meet her if that was at possible.”
“She is not in the building just now as she is sweeping the front of the mission.”
Monikochamma stood in awe. Here was an example of the saying “Be the change you want to see in the world.” The Nobel Laureate was simply deep in her day’s work at the mission.
Mother Teresa, Wikimedia-Commons User Túrelio
Sidd has now completed the 8th year of the journey he is on and the year was certainly an illuminating one. With each year, I can see clear lines emerging that crystalize his social, physical and intellectual persona. The diamond is steadily emerging from the rough. An observation by one human of another, which in and of itself, is a priceless part of life.
In a nutshell, he’s competitive, a numbers guy (particularly regarding money), selectively lazy, likes little kids, and gregarious, social spirit with a penchant for cracking jokes.
Shaggy Headed Boy, © 2011, Abe Pachikara (Click for larger images)
Competition: He has discovered a fierce sense of competition and beating arbitrary goals he creates (including in soccer). I have noticed that he will observe the expected arrival time on our car’s GPS, and then quietly urge me on, “C’mon dad, just chip it down, chip it down. It says 2:34. Let’s get it down to 2:33.” He remembers that how well he did previously and wonders how the future will be, “I made 2 goals last week, I hope I can do that tomorrow.”
Be Smart With Numbers & Money: For Sidd, numbers is just another term for money, and he likes both, a lot. At his 7th birthday party, my parents gave him 50 one dollar bills and he counted them daily for a month. He and Paul decided to combine their allowances as it will be larger, (which is obviously better according to them) and opening a bank account was quite the excursion. If I had known of and given the marshmallow test back when he was three I think he would have passed. Cindy gave him a Super Lotto ticket for his 8th and the reaction was illuminating. BEFORE: he had myriad questions about success: “If you win the $3 million dollars can you play AGAIN? Really? Wow.” “If I win, I will put it all in the bank account and make more – maybe I will be the first boy to make a billion dollars.” AFTER: Upon finding out that he had not won, not had even one number match, his view of lotteries soured. “So they keep Cindy Auntie’s dollar? That does not sound like a very good idea.” Pondering more and hearing about how you can make more modest gains with stocks he came back to say, “I think I want to learn how to put money into Kinect, that is a pretty good thing and I think a lot of people should like it. Can you show my how to buy stock in that company?”
Lazy, at Times: When there is a task in the house to do, I find that Sidd will linger just long enough to see if Paul will up and do it. If asked, he sounds innocent. “I think Paul is taking care of it.” Bad habit to nip sooner rather than later.
Little Friends: The little man loves little babies and kids. When at a gathering, if will oscillate between rough housing with boys his age, and goofing around with a 2 year that is peering around from behind his or her mom’s dress.
Gregarious? Yup: The social element comes out loud with each passing day. When asked who he played with at school, the response shows it is a numbers game. “I play with George and his friends during the morning recess, and with Tommy and his friends in the afternoon recess.” We were visiting family in San Francisco and the first night my cousin Rani had a wonderful soiree at her place: perhaps 15 people, all my cousins spouses, came over. Sidd had a ball with Rani’s children and all these people. The next day, the 1st question was, “which party are we going to tonight dad?” When the answer was none, he was undeterred, going to Regi Auntie and asking, “Regi Auntie can we have a party tonight?” He kept at this campaign and the next morning, she finally wrote down a set of phone numbers and handed him a phone. He took his best shot at inviting folks over. “Hi Shanthi Auntie, this is Sidd. So we are having a party tonight and can you come at 7? It is okay if you have to come at 8:30 or 8 and I think it will be a lot of fun.” Regi Auntie graciously and patiently had him make panacotta with her and other items for the evening. The takeaway was triumphant, “I can’t believe this was my very first party. Regi Auntie made the party so good and I got to be host. It sure was fun.”
My sister Cindy was chatting with my dad about the singer Nora Jones and explaining her lineage. She mentioned that Nora is the illegitimate child of famed musician Ravi Shankar, and dad became very agitated.
He clarified that in his view, this is in reality a misplaced term.
“Cindy, there is no such thing as an illegitimate child. There are only illegitimate parents.” Touché.
I am simply stupefied at the sheer velocity of our existence. Yesterday, I was 6. Today I am 46. Tomorrow I will be 73. Just like that.
I watch in awe as a freight train thunders by me, yet in reality I am on that train, looking out the window as the countryside of my life, experiences, and relationships zips by.
It’s akin to the whisper-quiet experience riding on the Shinkansen or TGV – fast, noiseless, and less experiential than you want, unless you make an effort on your own part and “open the windows” in some manner. Otherwise, I cannot hear the movement in my ears, nor feel its passage in my toes, the seat of my pants or in the small of my back. Months, literally years go by in mute.
But I can “see” the changes if I make the effort to really look and increasingly be aware of the inexorable progress underway. Pudgy babies, turning to lanky youngsters, then questioning teenagers and finally delivered as pondering adults weighing the options in front of them and those left behind.
The 2009 trip to India made this painfully obvious, again. Why? Because it had been 5 years since the last visit and 13 since the first one with Molly. Cousins who were toddlers oblivious to the wealth of minutes around them were now in college pondering what lay beyond their graduation.
For some reason Stevie Nick’s song Landslide keeps looping between my ears, particularly where it goes…
I took my love, I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
and I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
'Till the landslide brought me down
Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love
Can the child within my heart rise above
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life~~~
The Countryside Flies By
- - Abe Pachikara, © 2009, (Click for larger images)
