One of my favorite TV shows, "The Shield" came to an end yesterday. The series finale was last night. For those who haven't seen or heard about it, it is the story of four cops in a crime ridden LA neighborhood. These cops are members of a special 'strike team' that is meant to target gangs and drug dealers. The detectives are corrupt, but not incompetent. A couple of them are even family guys and really care about them. If 'gritty' could be applied to a show, this would be it. It featured superlative performances from pretty much the entire cast (lead by Michael Chiklis as the lead detective of the strike team) and along the way they had top notch actors (Glenn Close, Forrest Whitaker) join the cast for a season or two.
What made the show so compelling were the story lines they were willing to explore - given that the show was on cable (FX) and late night, they were able to delve into a number of areas that would be taboo for network tv. You felt that this how cops really behaved - not like the PC stuff you see on Law & Order or CSI. There was no glamor - they spoke, acted, and dressed the way you would expect in 'real life.' No character was entirely good or bad - you probably wouldn't approve, but you mostly understood their motivation.
It is not an easy show to watch - the language is often profane and there is a lot of violence and is meant for, as the pre-show warning says, "For Mature Audiences" only. It is not all guns and yelling though - there is significant story line involving another detective who uses old fashioned reasoning and analysis to solve crimes and a reasonable share of tender moments. As the series wound down, the story line involving one of the strike team members who has a falling out with the rest of the team was truly gut wrenching. And he was a guy who didn't inspire a lot of sympathy during most of the series.
Overall, I highly recommend the show. If you liked 'Pulp Fiction' I think you will like this one. Compared to "The Shield" even "The Sopranos" is a bit too glamorous, but that could be because "The Sopranos" was a larger, more sweeping saga, while "The Shield" is more myopic and small scale, but yet, utterly compelling.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Of Brothers and Sons
Arjun called me a little while ago to tell me that Abhi had bit him on his leg. He didn't seem to know the reason, but quite likely there was some tug of war and Abhi escalated it to his version of going nuclear - biting. Arjun is not really the innocent either - he is quite capable of dishing out blows and shoves and the occassional kick.
In general though, they play well together and (thankfully) seem to actually enjoy each others company. Abhi clearly looks up to his brother and will follow his example to the tiniest detail, to the point of being parrot like. Arjun on his part, relishes this role and takes it very seriously. As a parent one often wonders if all the advice and admonishments are having any effect - so many times it feels like you are talking to a wall for all the reaction you get. However, we get some reassurance when we sometimes ask Arjun to take care of Abhi (say in a store or in a park) and he will proceed to instruct and advice Abhi with almost the exact wording that we have used with him. Arjun is also quite protective of Abhi. Abhi does these little projects in his day care (chef's hat, mail box, etc) that he usually says are for his "amma". When I made a mock complaint to Abhi that he hadn't made anything for his "acha", Arjun immediately defended him saying that the "police hat" (which never made it home) had been made for me. Also, he gives all of Abhi's craft work his full attention and insists on pinning them up on the wall in his room right next to his stuff. Another instance was his effort to pacify Abhi about going to day care. He would give him assurances of "Don't worry, Abhi, Eata will come to your day care." (See related post.) When Malini would ask him why he was giving him false hope, he would reply, "I am just trying to distract him to make him feel better." I think some of this protective instinct also comes from his Montessori education - in that system the older students are encouraged and indeed are required to take care of the younger ones.
On the flip side, kids also learn to manipulate quite early. Last week, Shuba had agreed to look after Abhi for about an hour while Malini took Arjun for his first piano class. Abhi was all bought into the idea of a play date with Suraj and when Shuba came to pick him up, he even ran to her car. Abruptly though, he changed his mind and ran back all teary and declared in between sobs that he wanted to stay with him amma. No amount of cajoling could change his mind and Malini had to abandon the piano class, which was kind of sad since Arjun had been looking forward to it. What was really galling was that Malini noticed that he was actually smiling between his sobs when he thought nobody was looking.
And then they will say or do something that will completely disarm you. Malini was scrubbing her feet with a pumice stone and Abhi enquired why she was doing that (he has questions about anything different you do). Malini replied that her feet were not doing well since she had not taken care of them. Abhi asks why not? In a bid to curry some sympathy, Malni responded, "Because there is nobody to look after me." Abhi is quiet for a bit and then replied, "But you are amma, right? You should take care of yourself."
In general though, they play well together and (thankfully) seem to actually enjoy each others company. Abhi clearly looks up to his brother and will follow his example to the tiniest detail, to the point of being parrot like. Arjun on his part, relishes this role and takes it very seriously. As a parent one often wonders if all the advice and admonishments are having any effect - so many times it feels like you are talking to a wall for all the reaction you get. However, we get some reassurance when we sometimes ask Arjun to take care of Abhi (say in a store or in a park) and he will proceed to instruct and advice Abhi with almost the exact wording that we have used with him. Arjun is also quite protective of Abhi. Abhi does these little projects in his day care (chef's hat, mail box, etc) that he usually says are for his "amma". When I made a mock complaint to Abhi that he hadn't made anything for his "acha", Arjun immediately defended him saying that the "police hat" (which never made it home) had been made for me. Also, he gives all of Abhi's craft work his full attention and insists on pinning them up on the wall in his room right next to his stuff. Another instance was his effort to pacify Abhi about going to day care. He would give him assurances of "Don't worry, Abhi, Eata will come to your day care." (See related post.) When Malini would ask him why he was giving him false hope, he would reply, "I am just trying to distract him to make him feel better." I think some of this protective instinct also comes from his Montessori education - in that system the older students are encouraged and indeed are required to take care of the younger ones.
On the flip side, kids also learn to manipulate quite early. Last week, Shuba had agreed to look after Abhi for about an hour while Malini took Arjun for his first piano class. Abhi was all bought into the idea of a play date with Suraj and when Shuba came to pick him up, he even ran to her car. Abruptly though, he changed his mind and ran back all teary and declared in between sobs that he wanted to stay with him amma. No amount of cajoling could change his mind and Malini had to abandon the piano class, which was kind of sad since Arjun had been looking forward to it. What was really galling was that Malini noticed that he was actually smiling between his sobs when he thought nobody was looking.
And then they will say or do something that will completely disarm you. Malini was scrubbing her feet with a pumice stone and Abhi enquired why she was doing that (he has questions about anything different you do). Malini replied that her feet were not doing well since she had not taken care of them. Abhi asks why not? In a bid to curry some sympathy, Malni responded, "Because there is nobody to look after me." Abhi is quiet for a bit and then replied, "But you are amma, right? You should take care of yourself."
Monday, November 24, 2008
Chasing after sunk cost
One trait that distinguishes humans from animals is that humans care about 'sunk cost' while animals don't. There is actually serious research that underscores this: See paper. Basically, we humans tend to keep investing in lost causes simply because we have already invested in them. This is clearly self perpetuating - the more you invest, the more the unwillingness to pull away. Animals don't seem to exhibit this behavior - a predator chasing its prey will pull up and stop if the prey starts pulling away and not simply keep going because it has already chased the prey for a while. Marketers love to study such compulsions on the part of humans because it gives them insight into what kind of campaigns will succeed. I am wondering if this insight could apply to a number of our everyday actions.
Take the obsession with not wanting to "waste food." This is often used to justify shoving down that last morsel, well past the point of over eating. The sunk cost in the food is not going to come back whether the food is consumed or not. That starving child in Africa is not going to be satiated because you overate. Will consuming the food in a manner unlikely to yield the intended benefits really constitute "not wasting?" Or are we simply investing more resources (weight gain, bloating, indigestion, or whatever else one gets from over-eating) to justify the already sunk cost (of the prepared food)? Perhaps a more rational response would be to monitor what actually gets consumed and then prepare the next meal accordingly.
Another instance that may be particular to parenting goes as follows: you take the effort to plan an outing (park, zoo, beach, where ever) that you think will appeal to the kids. You get there and they are not that interested in the available activities. How do you respond? Many parents get all worked up and angrily announce that if they don't start cooperating and having some fun, then darn it, this is the "last time we'll ever take you anywhere!" Of course, it is the frustration talking and of course, part of it is for the effect - maybe this threat (even if clearly unenforceable) will get them to realize that all this effort was for them to have fun. I contend that this is just another case of taking on additional cost (loss of composure on your part, kids feeling bad about being yelled at, etc) in order to justify the sunk cost of planning and executing the outing. Better solution? Enquire calmly why they are not enjoying the outing. Suggest that they should have told you before you headed out. Remember this for the next time. Also, remember that kids don't always have to make sense - can we adults explain all our actions/reactions at all times? (ok, this last point doesn't have much to do with the main theme of this blog, but it kinda felt germane.)
My yoga master is often commenting on how humans have made their bodies slaves to their minds. I believe this is the fundamental cause for the above described irrational behavior. The positive thing is that we can use the power of that same mind to realize this and not repeat such actions. Can we really be totally rational? Of course not - that would make us robots and not very interesting. But watch out for the cases of chasing after sunk cost in your day to day life - I am willing to wager that you will find them to be more common than you might have expected.
Take the obsession with not wanting to "waste food." This is often used to justify shoving down that last morsel, well past the point of over eating. The sunk cost in the food is not going to come back whether the food is consumed or not. That starving child in Africa is not going to be satiated because you overate. Will consuming the food in a manner unlikely to yield the intended benefits really constitute "not wasting?" Or are we simply investing more resources (weight gain, bloating, indigestion, or whatever else one gets from over-eating) to justify the already sunk cost (of the prepared food)? Perhaps a more rational response would be to monitor what actually gets consumed and then prepare the next meal accordingly.
Another instance that may be particular to parenting goes as follows: you take the effort to plan an outing (park, zoo, beach, where ever) that you think will appeal to the kids. You get there and they are not that interested in the available activities. How do you respond? Many parents get all worked up and angrily announce that if they don't start cooperating and having some fun, then darn it, this is the "last time we'll ever take you anywhere!" Of course, it is the frustration talking and of course, part of it is for the effect - maybe this threat (even if clearly unenforceable) will get them to realize that all this effort was for them to have fun. I contend that this is just another case of taking on additional cost (loss of composure on your part, kids feeling bad about being yelled at, etc) in order to justify the sunk cost of planning and executing the outing. Better solution? Enquire calmly why they are not enjoying the outing. Suggest that they should have told you before you headed out. Remember this for the next time. Also, remember that kids don't always have to make sense - can we adults explain all our actions/reactions at all times? (ok, this last point doesn't have much to do with the main theme of this blog, but it kinda felt germane.)
My yoga master is often commenting on how humans have made their bodies slaves to their minds. I believe this is the fundamental cause for the above described irrational behavior. The positive thing is that we can use the power of that same mind to realize this and not repeat such actions. Can we really be totally rational? Of course not - that would make us robots and not very interesting. But watch out for the cases of chasing after sunk cost in your day to day life - I am willing to wager that you will find them to be more common than you might have expected.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
A Teachable Moment
Malini found a new PBS program for the kids to watch - "Sid the science kid." As the name suggests, they try to impart some basic science info. What I didn't bargain for (maybe the name of the main character should have alerted me) was the "jokes" that the show included. They run sort of along the following lines:
"How do you stop a fish from smelling?"
"I don't know. How?"
(This is the only acceptable response, you aren't allowed to guess.)
"You hold its nose."
(You have to hold your nose while saying this, which imparts the necessary nasal tone.)
Arjun was quite taken by this new game (maybe something in his genes as well) and Abhi was too, except that he didn't quite grasp the notion of a punch line, specifically that each joke has its own punch line. A couple of days ago I came home to this question:
Arjun: "What did one shirt say to another shirt?"
Me: "I don't know. What?" (I wasn't just playing along, I really had no clue.)
Arjun: "Nothing! Shirts can't talk, silly!"
(Me, grimacing, but trying to be a sport.)
Apparently there was a follow-up:
Arjun: "Why did one shirt chase the other shirt?"
Me: "I don't know. Why?"
Arjun:"Because they were playing tag!" Hillarious stuff.
Abhi certainly thought so, but he was a little confused about the two different jokes and ended up combining the question of the first one ("What did one shirt say to the other shirt?") with the second punch line ("Because they were playing tag."). Not just that, he started applying it to everything around the house. For instance:
Abhi: "Aeta, What did one banana say to the other banana?"
('Aeta' or more correctly, 'Cheta' is Malayalam for elder brother.)
Arjun (playing along): "I don't know. What?"
Abhi (in a triumphant voice): "Because they were playing tag!"
Now, this was sort of ok the first 10-15 times, but after that even Arjun gave up and tried to explain to Abhi that the two jokes were different. ("Abhi, in the first one, they are talking, not playing tag.") When that failed, he attempted an illustration:
Arjun:"See, I'll show you. What did one Sid-the-science-kid say to the other Sid-the-science-kid?"
(He was picking somebody who would actually talk.)
Abhi (being well-versed in the protocol of this joke): "I don't know. What?"
Arjun (talking directly at Abhi): "Hello, Sid, how do you do? What are you doing, Sid?"
Not much of a punch line, but hey, it was supposed to be an example. Instead, Abhi, who by now has lost all context interjected rather emphatically:
"I am not Sid, I am Abhi!"
"How do you stop a fish from smelling?"
"I don't know. How?"
(This is the only acceptable response, you aren't allowed to guess.)
"You hold its nose."
(You have to hold your nose while saying this, which imparts the necessary nasal tone.)
Arjun was quite taken by this new game (maybe something in his genes as well) and Abhi was too, except that he didn't quite grasp the notion of a punch line, specifically that each joke has its own punch line. A couple of days ago I came home to this question:
Arjun: "What did one shirt say to another shirt?"
Me: "I don't know. What?" (I wasn't just playing along, I really had no clue.)
Arjun: "Nothing! Shirts can't talk, silly!"
(Me, grimacing, but trying to be a sport.)
Apparently there was a follow-up:
Arjun: "Why did one shirt chase the other shirt?"
Me: "I don't know. Why?"
Arjun:"Because they were playing tag!" Hillarious stuff.
Abhi certainly thought so, but he was a little confused about the two different jokes and ended up combining the question of the first one ("What did one shirt say to the other shirt?") with the second punch line ("Because they were playing tag."). Not just that, he started applying it to everything around the house. For instance:
Abhi: "Aeta, What did one banana say to the other banana?"
('Aeta' or more correctly, 'Cheta' is Malayalam for elder brother.)
Arjun (playing along): "I don't know. What?"
Abhi (in a triumphant voice): "Because they were playing tag!"
Now, this was sort of ok the first 10-15 times, but after that even Arjun gave up and tried to explain to Abhi that the two jokes were different. ("Abhi, in the first one, they are talking, not playing tag.") When that failed, he attempted an illustration:
Arjun:"See, I'll show you. What did one Sid-the-science-kid say to the other Sid-the-science-kid?"
(He was picking somebody who would actually talk.)
Abhi (being well-versed in the protocol of this joke): "I don't know. What?"
Arjun (talking directly at Abhi): "Hello, Sid, how do you do? What are you doing, Sid?"
Not much of a punch line, but hey, it was supposed to be an example. Instead, Abhi, who by now has lost all context interjected rather emphatically:
"I am not Sid, I am Abhi!"
Monday, November 17, 2008
Murphy Was An Amateur
I had always thought that I had a special talent for self-inflicted injuries (for instance, slamming a car door on my thumb and losing the nail in the process), but Malini soon put paid to that assumption. Several stories are already in circulation - getting burnt trying to iron a shirt while actually wearing it is a well known one, but I have a couple more to add to the canon.
A couple of months ago she was sporting a bruise on her nose - the result of having brought the trunk door of her RX-300 down on it. Now, closing the trunk of her car is something that she does on a regular basis, perhaps even once a day, so it is hard to chalk this one up to unfamiliarity. The hydraulic lifts on the door don't work so good and so you have to push it down with some force to close the door - ensuring that the injury would serious enough even for Malini, to merit a mention. Things got a bit more interesting a couple of weeks ago when she banged the same nose on the lid of our clothes washer. For those amongst you that are puzzled about this, let me outline how you achieve this. You start with a top loading washer that has a full laundry basket resting on the lid. Then you decide that you want to check what is inside the washer, but don't really want to bother with shifting the basket. So you try to lift the lid while simultaneously bring your face down towards the opening and realize a fraction too late that you have miscalculated how much the weight of the laundry basket will allow you to actually lift the lid.
A new chapter was written yesterday. Malini asks me if I could do a taste test of a new daal dish she was trying, adding casually that she couldn't really taste much since she had burnt her mouth. Well, turns out she did a bit more than that - the daal she tried to taste was so hot that she burnt her tongue and scalded the roof of her mouth. The skin peeled off and she had to spit pieces out. The tongue is constantly making contact with the roof, so reminders of the raw surface are frequent. On the positive side, they do say that the mouth heals very fast.
A couple of months ago she was sporting a bruise on her nose - the result of having brought the trunk door of her RX-300 down on it. Now, closing the trunk of her car is something that she does on a regular basis, perhaps even once a day, so it is hard to chalk this one up to unfamiliarity. The hydraulic lifts on the door don't work so good and so you have to push it down with some force to close the door - ensuring that the injury would serious enough even for Malini, to merit a mention. Things got a bit more interesting a couple of weeks ago when she banged the same nose on the lid of our clothes washer. For those amongst you that are puzzled about this, let me outline how you achieve this. You start with a top loading washer that has a full laundry basket resting on the lid. Then you decide that you want to check what is inside the washer, but don't really want to bother with shifting the basket. So you try to lift the lid while simultaneously bring your face down towards the opening and realize a fraction too late that you have miscalculated how much the weight of the laundry basket will allow you to actually lift the lid.
A new chapter was written yesterday. Malini asks me if I could do a taste test of a new daal dish she was trying, adding casually that she couldn't really taste much since she had burnt her mouth. Well, turns out she did a bit more than that - the daal she tried to taste was so hot that she burnt her tongue and scalded the roof of her mouth. The skin peeled off and she had to spit pieces out. The tongue is constantly making contact with the roof, so reminders of the raw surface are frequent. On the positive side, they do say that the mouth heals very fast.
Friday, November 14, 2008
No Escape
Every parent has likely experienced this - making a throwaway statement to their kid only to to have it come back and get you in the posterior (or "bumbalati" as Arjun & Abhi call it). This is just a mild example of that - it can get much worse.
We started Abhi in a day care last week and he hates it. Mostly he hates the idea of being left alone - he was all gung-ho about the prospect of day care until he realized that his big brother would not be there with him. Then he started campaigning for me to stay in day care with him. In a bid to pacify him, I told him, "Sure, I'll come" and then (very cleverly, I thought) added, "But I have to first ask my boss. If he says ok, then I'll come to your day care." He calmed down and I patted myself on back and left for work. As I reached work, I got a phone call and a very tearful Abhi asks, "What did your boss say?" Hmm... hadn't expected this, but I quickly replied that I had not asked my boss yet. Then realizing that this question would not go away, I added,
"But I don't think I will be able to ask him today."
"Why acha?" Ah, the dreaded "why?"
"Because he is not feeling well."
"Why is he not feeling well?"
"He has a cold."
"He has a cold? How did he get a cold?"
"Um..ah...he went out in the rain."
"He went out in the rain? Why did he go out in the rain?"
"Uh...he had go somewhere." The strain of the conversation was getting to me.
"He had to go somewhere? Did he run?"
"Yes, he ran very fast."
"He ran very fast, acha? Why did he run very fast?"
I had to make this stop.
"Ok Abhi, acha has to go now. bye." And quickly hung up.
We started Abhi in a day care last week and he hates it. Mostly he hates the idea of being left alone - he was all gung-ho about the prospect of day care until he realized that his big brother would not be there with him. Then he started campaigning for me to stay in day care with him. In a bid to pacify him, I told him, "Sure, I'll come" and then (very cleverly, I thought) added, "But I have to first ask my boss. If he says ok, then I'll come to your day care." He calmed down and I patted myself on back and left for work. As I reached work, I got a phone call and a very tearful Abhi asks, "What did your boss say?" Hmm... hadn't expected this, but I quickly replied that I had not asked my boss yet. Then realizing that this question would not go away, I added,
"But I don't think I will be able to ask him today."
"Why acha?" Ah, the dreaded "why?"
"Because he is not feeling well."
"Why is he not feeling well?"
"He has a cold."
"He has a cold? How did he get a cold?"
"Um..ah...he went out in the rain."
"He went out in the rain? Why did he go out in the rain?"
"Uh...he had go somewhere." The strain of the conversation was getting to me.
"He had to go somewhere? Did he run?"
"Yes, he ran very fast."
"He ran very fast, acha? Why did he run very fast?"
I had to make this stop.
"Ok Abhi, acha has to go now. bye." And quickly hung up.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Dutch Courage
I took a flight to San Jose earlier today and originally this was going to be a mildly humorous post about the minor mishaps I had getting to my flight, but that can wait for another time. I seem to be always dashing around airports and gates - there is got be a blog in all those near misses.
Anyway, our flight boarded relatively early for a commuter flight, but as we were getting ready to leave, one more guy joined us and occupied the seat across the aisle from me. What struck me immediately was the smell of alcohol coming off of him. He was dressed quite well - suit, overcoat, and a top hat, but seemed a little fidgety. I put it down to the drink. I focused on my magazine and didn't pay him much attention. After take off, he had a murmured conversation with the flight attendant who then brought him some vodka. I overheard him say that he had flown from NY to Chicago, Chicago to SD, and now SD to San Jose.
I was listening to some podcasts for most of the flight and didn't really look much at our friend. I did notice that he got another little bottle of vodka just before we started coming in. I had to switch everything off for the approach and it registered on me that the flight was coming down quite rapidly and that made me a little queasy. Apparently that was nothing compared to what was happening to the guy across the aisle. Something was clearly bothering him - his eyes were screwed shut and he seemed to be fighting something down. Occasionally he would puff as if to work through some pain. Sometimes he would violently shake his hands and other times he seemed to be fighting down something welling up in his throat. I was fairly convinced that the guy was going to hurl. Seeing him struggle, I was wondering whether I should offer him the barf-bag - surely he knew about it? He was so close to me that I was sure I was going to get the brunt of it if he did puke.
His mannerisms got increasingly panicky and didn't really stop even after we landed. I saw him scrounging around his coat pocket for something - probably something to throw up into, I was convinced. I kept glancing at him (mostly to be prepared when he decided to hurl) and as we were taxiing in, he was still clearly unhappy. I realized he had noticed my glances when he suddenly looked my way and said, "Sorry about all that, I am just not a good flyer, especially in such a small plane." That explained a lot - what we had been seeing were near-panic attacks.
Silence followed and I felt compelled to ask, "Do you just get nervous during take-offs and landings?" No, he said, it is pretty much the whole flight, especially in such a tiny cabin. Then he added, "My fiance and her daughter were killed in a plane crash last year. Since then it is hard for me to fly." I didn't know what to say. He took out a picture of a kid, kissed it, and put it back in his wallet.
Eventually the door was opened and he sprang up to leave - I let him go ahead since he clearly had a more urgent need to be off that plane. As we were leaving, the cockpit door was open. He walked up to the door, reached into his coat pocket and took out some money. I was thinking, is he going to tip the flight attendant who helped him with the drinks? He wasn't. Instead, he reached into the cockpit and handed the money to the pilot with the words, "Pilot, thanks for bring us in safely. Have a drink on me." So much for first impressions.
Anyway, our flight boarded relatively early for a commuter flight, but as we were getting ready to leave, one more guy joined us and occupied the seat across the aisle from me. What struck me immediately was the smell of alcohol coming off of him. He was dressed quite well - suit, overcoat, and a top hat, but seemed a little fidgety. I put it down to the drink. I focused on my magazine and didn't pay him much attention. After take off, he had a murmured conversation with the flight attendant who then brought him some vodka. I overheard him say that he had flown from NY to Chicago, Chicago to SD, and now SD to San Jose.
I was listening to some podcasts for most of the flight and didn't really look much at our friend. I did notice that he got another little bottle of vodka just before we started coming in. I had to switch everything off for the approach and it registered on me that the flight was coming down quite rapidly and that made me a little queasy. Apparently that was nothing compared to what was happening to the guy across the aisle. Something was clearly bothering him - his eyes were screwed shut and he seemed to be fighting something down. Occasionally he would puff as if to work through some pain. Sometimes he would violently shake his hands and other times he seemed to be fighting down something welling up in his throat. I was fairly convinced that the guy was going to hurl. Seeing him struggle, I was wondering whether I should offer him the barf-bag - surely he knew about it? He was so close to me that I was sure I was going to get the brunt of it if he did puke.
His mannerisms got increasingly panicky and didn't really stop even after we landed. I saw him scrounging around his coat pocket for something - probably something to throw up into, I was convinced. I kept glancing at him (mostly to be prepared when he decided to hurl) and as we were taxiing in, he was still clearly unhappy. I realized he had noticed my glances when he suddenly looked my way and said, "Sorry about all that, I am just not a good flyer, especially in such a small plane." That explained a lot - what we had been seeing were near-panic attacks.
Silence followed and I felt compelled to ask, "Do you just get nervous during take-offs and landings?" No, he said, it is pretty much the whole flight, especially in such a tiny cabin. Then he added, "My fiance and her daughter were killed in a plane crash last year. Since then it is hard for me to fly." I didn't know what to say. He took out a picture of a kid, kissed it, and put it back in his wallet.
Eventually the door was opened and he sprang up to leave - I let him go ahead since he clearly had a more urgent need to be off that plane. As we were leaving, the cockpit door was open. He walked up to the door, reached into his coat pocket and took out some money. I was thinking, is he going to tip the flight attendant who helped him with the drinks? He wasn't. Instead, he reached into the cockpit and handed the money to the pilot with the words, "Pilot, thanks for bring us in safely. Have a drink on me." So much for first impressions.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
A Butterfly Flaps its Wings
It was the summer of '91, I was a grad student in Blacksburg, Va and I had just bought my first car - a 1984 Nissan Sentra. It didn't have a cassette deck (CDs were a luxury) and so I invested in one, but being a starving (ok, maybe not actually starving) student, I hooked it up myself. Some of the wiring was a tad confusing, but it seemed to work. Soon after, I was taking a couple of friends on an outing and the guy in the back seat comments, "Hey, how come your rear speakers are not working?" Innocent enough? Maybe, but that little comment lead to a car break-in, being shot at, almost going to court, a broken window, and a shattered windshield. Far fetched? Not so much...
I, of course jumped to the conclusion that I must not have wired something correctly. I yanked out the deck from the dashboard and started connecting wires that were hanging loose. At one point there was a crackle and I noticed that my clock was no longer working - I had shorted it out. A bit disappointing, but I ploughed on. Very soon there was another crackle and the deck, my brand new Pioneer Cassette deck, was no longer operational. Now that hurt. But, its not without reason that I am the designated customer service negotiator - I called the company and they agreed to repair it. I sent it in and was now without any kind of music system - not even radio.
Now, not having a music system was ok for tooling around Blacksburg, but the following weekend we were heading out on a 200 mile drive to an amusement park. A friend had a small boom box that he often took in his (equally ancient) car and he offered to lend me the same. It had a cigarette lighter adapter and so, we were all set. We even taped it to the dashboard so that nobody had to hold it all the time. Road trip was great and we returned late in the night and I went to bed without cleaning out my car. The next morning (a Sunday), a friend called to say that there appeared to be broken glass near my car. I ran down and sure enough, somebody had broken my car window in order to steal the $20 boom box. Now I not only had to replace my friend's boom box, but I also had get a new window. Thankfully, the thief had very considerately broken the rear window which didn't slide and so was not as expensive to fix as the front ones. I was able to find a replacement at a junk yard, but that plus the install put me $100 in the hole.
A week later, my 'repaired' Pioneer deck came back. I headed back down to install it, but it still wasn't working. Their note in the shipping package explicitly said that they had tested it. I was stumped - I knew next to nothing about cars and didn't know what to do next. Somebody then suggested looking at the fuses. I didn't know cars had fuses. I looked and sure enough one of them was blown - that was the second crackle I had heard. The clock was really gone, but the deck had never shorted. I changed fuses and now I had my deck working again. After all the hassle, I couldn't care less about the rear speakers not working, which had started this whole chain of events.
Well, the clock was still broken and after my first experience with junk yards I thought I would call around and see if somebody had a replacement for the clock. Sure enough, one of them did. He gave me directions and I headed off, with coincidentally, the same two friends in the car. Blacksburg is in a pretty rural part of Virginia and once you get outside of town, it becomes hilly billy country pretty soon. The directions were hard to follow and we were soon lost on some country road. At one point we decided to head back and in order to make a U-turn I had to turn into the driveway of a farm house. We noticed a couple of kids playing in the yard. As I started driving away, my rear windshield turned opaque and my friend in the rear seat started yelling, "Drive, drive!" I gunned the engine and left the place in a hurry. My friend exclaimed, "We were shot!" Yup, one of the kids had taken a shot at us and hit the rear windshield. We had noticed the guns in the kids hands, but had thought nothing of it. We drove home gingerly and after some debate, called the cops. Now, this is the deep south and here we were, students from India accusing a couple of white kids of having shot at us. We didn't even know exactly where the house was. The officer took our report and headed out to investigate.
He called me back a while later and said that he had indeed located the house and yes, there were kids playing with a BB gun and yes, they had seen a blue car turn around and leave in a hurry, but no, they had not taken a shot at the car. The kids dad claimed that he was there the whole time and he had seen it all. All I wanted was for the guy to pay for the windshield, but he was not budging. The cop said I could press charges, but it had to go to juvenile court since the kids were underage. I decided I should try, at least in the hope that the dad would settle out of court and pay for my windshield. The courts were in the next town (Christiansburg) and I started making weekly trips there. I was getting no traction - the cop seemed sympathetic, but he was pretty frank - he said the chances of me prevailing in juvie court were slim. Then if I lost, I may have to pay the expenses of the other side too. And maybe they would counter sue for a false charge. I could read between the lines - the word of 3 foreigners did not count for much against that of two white kids in that part of the country. The trips were getting painful - I had to schedule them around my classes and I was still driving with a plastic sheet in place of the rear windshield. In the end I gave up and paid for the replacement on my own. This was again from a junk yard and while it fit well, the defrost wiring did not work. Kind of a pain in the winter. I was out another $150, not to count all the aggravation and stress of the court house visits. My clock was still busted and my rear speakers were still silent.
It was several weeks later and a I had helped a friend do some India shopping. He was unloading stuff from my trunk and commented casually, "So how come you don't have rear speakers?" I responded, that of course I had rear speakers - the speaker meshes were clear visible behind the rear seats - but that they didn't work. He invited me to check for myself and as I stuck my head into the trunk I realized that he was correct: there were no speakers. There was the mesh, but no speakers below them. All this while I had been trying to coax sound from non-existent speakers. The thought occurred to me that I could saved myself some trouble if the audiophile had never ridden in my rear seat. Or maybe, the story I got from it is worth it?
I, of course jumped to the conclusion that I must not have wired something correctly. I yanked out the deck from the dashboard and started connecting wires that were hanging loose. At one point there was a crackle and I noticed that my clock was no longer working - I had shorted it out. A bit disappointing, but I ploughed on. Very soon there was another crackle and the deck, my brand new Pioneer Cassette deck, was no longer operational. Now that hurt. But, its not without reason that I am the designated customer service negotiator - I called the company and they agreed to repair it. I sent it in and was now without any kind of music system - not even radio.
Now, not having a music system was ok for tooling around Blacksburg, but the following weekend we were heading out on a 200 mile drive to an amusement park. A friend had a small boom box that he often took in his (equally ancient) car and he offered to lend me the same. It had a cigarette lighter adapter and so, we were all set. We even taped it to the dashboard so that nobody had to hold it all the time. Road trip was great and we returned late in the night and I went to bed without cleaning out my car. The next morning (a Sunday), a friend called to say that there appeared to be broken glass near my car. I ran down and sure enough, somebody had broken my car window in order to steal the $20 boom box. Now I not only had to replace my friend's boom box, but I also had get a new window. Thankfully, the thief had very considerately broken the rear window which didn't slide and so was not as expensive to fix as the front ones. I was able to find a replacement at a junk yard, but that plus the install put me $100 in the hole.
A week later, my 'repaired' Pioneer deck came back. I headed back down to install it, but it still wasn't working. Their note in the shipping package explicitly said that they had tested it. I was stumped - I knew next to nothing about cars and didn't know what to do next. Somebody then suggested looking at the fuses. I didn't know cars had fuses. I looked and sure enough one of them was blown - that was the second crackle I had heard. The clock was really gone, but the deck had never shorted. I changed fuses and now I had my deck working again. After all the hassle, I couldn't care less about the rear speakers not working, which had started this whole chain of events.
Well, the clock was still broken and after my first experience with junk yards I thought I would call around and see if somebody had a replacement for the clock. Sure enough, one of them did. He gave me directions and I headed off, with coincidentally, the same two friends in the car. Blacksburg is in a pretty rural part of Virginia and once you get outside of town, it becomes hilly billy country pretty soon. The directions were hard to follow and we were soon lost on some country road. At one point we decided to head back and in order to make a U-turn I had to turn into the driveway of a farm house. We noticed a couple of kids playing in the yard. As I started driving away, my rear windshield turned opaque and my friend in the rear seat started yelling, "Drive, drive!" I gunned the engine and left the place in a hurry. My friend exclaimed, "We were shot!" Yup, one of the kids had taken a shot at us and hit the rear windshield. We had noticed the guns in the kids hands, but had thought nothing of it. We drove home gingerly and after some debate, called the cops. Now, this is the deep south and here we were, students from India accusing a couple of white kids of having shot at us. We didn't even know exactly where the house was. The officer took our report and headed out to investigate.
He called me back a while later and said that he had indeed located the house and yes, there were kids playing with a BB gun and yes, they had seen a blue car turn around and leave in a hurry, but no, they had not taken a shot at the car. The kids dad claimed that he was there the whole time and he had seen it all. All I wanted was for the guy to pay for the windshield, but he was not budging. The cop said I could press charges, but it had to go to juvenile court since the kids were underage. I decided I should try, at least in the hope that the dad would settle out of court and pay for my windshield. The courts were in the next town (Christiansburg) and I started making weekly trips there. I was getting no traction - the cop seemed sympathetic, but he was pretty frank - he said the chances of me prevailing in juvie court were slim. Then if I lost, I may have to pay the expenses of the other side too. And maybe they would counter sue for a false charge. I could read between the lines - the word of 3 foreigners did not count for much against that of two white kids in that part of the country. The trips were getting painful - I had to schedule them around my classes and I was still driving with a plastic sheet in place of the rear windshield. In the end I gave up and paid for the replacement on my own. This was again from a junk yard and while it fit well, the defrost wiring did not work. Kind of a pain in the winter. I was out another $150, not to count all the aggravation and stress of the court house visits. My clock was still busted and my rear speakers were still silent.
It was several weeks later and a I had helped a friend do some India shopping. He was unloading stuff from my trunk and commented casually, "So how come you don't have rear speakers?" I responded, that of course I had rear speakers - the speaker meshes were clear visible behind the rear seats - but that they didn't work. He invited me to check for myself and as I stuck my head into the trunk I realized that he was correct: there were no speakers. There was the mesh, but no speakers below them. All this while I had been trying to coax sound from non-existent speakers. The thought occurred to me that I could saved myself some trouble if the audiophile had never ridden in my rear seat. Or maybe, the story I got from it is worth it?
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
November 4, 2008, San Diego, CA
I voted for Hillary Clinton in the Democratic primary and when it became obvious that she was not going to win, I rationalized that while either of those candidates would make for a historic result, an Obama candidature and victory would be more historic since there had never been a leader of color in any Western democracy, while there had been several women, most recently in Germany. At that point, I had taken it for granted that the Democratic candidate would win easily in this election, although it all had a certain fairy tale quality to it.
Of course the campaign season did not quite go the way I expected - the Republicans were not going to go away without a fight. In retrospect, maybe it looked closer than it ever was only to the beholder who was nervous about the prospect of another Republican administration - not so much for what it would bring, but for the verdict it would have passed on the Bush/Cheney presidency. A McCain victory to a large degree would have sent the message that the actions of the current administration were not all the very bad. Bush Jr would have been resurrected to some degree and I would have found it very difficult to accept that.
America is a unique country - it is in many ways a 'manufactured' country (Australia is another example), but that is not what makes it great. It is the fact that America is a country of ideas. This is no great insight, of course, but this has always been the appeal for me. Vaneee may be a recent convert to politics, but I have been a political junkie most of my life. It is hard to get enthusiastic about politics in India - so much of the power seems to be vested in the brawn and not in the brain. However, coming to the US in 1991, and following politics here, I was struck by the idealism and genuine desire to play by the rules. So, it was with deep anguish that I watched the Bush/Cheney team dismantle and tarnish that ideal. The right wing media cheering squad drowned out any protest and the low point came when any questioning of the government was automatically deemed unpatriotic. How much longer would it be, I wondered, before there was an actual suspension of civil rights? Maybe Bush/Cheney would even claim that they needed a third term to avoid a change in the middle of the "war on terror." After all, that hero of 9/11, Mr. Guiliani, tried to extend his term as mayor of NY on a similar pretext.
The loss of Gore was harder to take than that of Kerry. It was famously said during that campaign that the election was really inconsequential and it wouldn't matter which candidate won (remember "compassionate conservatism?"). Who believes that today? But as Sid has pointed out, perhaps the silver lining was just too far in the future - would Barack Obama be President-elect today if Bush had not won 8 years ago? The price for this piece of history has been very high though: the blunders in Iraq, the needless loss of life, both Iraqi and American, the loss of credibility and respect around the world, the limits on civil liberties. Will the Obama presidency be so significant that it justifies this cost to some degree? I am not going to guess, but a McCain victory would have destroyed even the hope that something positive could come out of the mess of the last 8 years.
What did really win Obama this presidency? His composure in the eye of a storm? His organizational skills? Disgust with the current administration? The selection of Palin? McCain's erratic behavior? I believe all of those played a part, but the ultimate clincher was something more elemental, something that showed up all the culture wars and race issues for exactly what they were - non-issues. This is not a big unknown - it was the deep economic crisis that was put into a tailspin by the banking mess. It has often been observed that ideals are the privilege of the well-fed. When you are hungry, nothing else matters other than getting the next meal. Morals, ethics, and almost any other principle of modern western civilization gets tossed out the window when it comes to satisfying basic needs. How many Indians do you think will jump at the chance of swapping Indian economic conditions with that of China even if it means getting their political conditions? So, when the economic crisis hit, the issue of Obama's race ceased to be a real factor. People instinctively grasped that it was inconsequential. That is what broke the election in his favor.
Sanjay & Geetha organized an election viewing party, unprodded. Sanjay has a thing or two to learn about full disclosure and I know of a certain house in Miro Ct that will be tuned to CNN for at least 48 hours straight to overcome the withdrawal symptoms. I guess it contributed to the air of wonder and bewilderment of the evening. Could this be happening? Grown men and women were struggling to come to terms with the cold, cruel, reality - no cable! We had the choice of the three networks (accessed through a complex sequence of remote key presses) and an extremely dull effort from PBS. Even the CSPAN programming looked positively exciting, in comparison. There are still some folks who are still waiting for somebody to change the channel to MSNBC or FoxNews. What would be next? Huddle around a vacuum tube radio, smacking it occasionally to improve the reception?
I joke of course. It wasn't that bad - true, some of us may have to have therapy to fully recover, but we did manage to follow the results (except RDX, who kept getting extremely confused by the differences in the projections between the 3 networks) and a good time was had by all. The hosts retained their grace despite constant needling by yours truly and they deserve our thanks. I had to agree with Sanjay's comment -"See what fun you can have with five channels?" at nights end. In the end, the only thing that mattered was that Obama won. It was a special moment when the whole room broke into a cheer when the sign "President-elect Obama" went up on the TV screen. I had to pause for a moment to savor it - here were a group of Indians who are by nature cynical and highly unlikely to admit to any sentimentality, actually cheering an election result in their adopted country. Obama's speech was magnificent as usual. I still remember Mario Cuomo's speech in 1992, nominating Bill Clinton. Clinton himself is no slouch, but an Obama speech is something special. The control and poise that he was able to command at such a powerful moment made his already well crafted text all the more striking.
Will this be a transformational presidency? Maybe it almost does not matter - the transformation has already happened.
Of course the campaign season did not quite go the way I expected - the Republicans were not going to go away without a fight. In retrospect, maybe it looked closer than it ever was only to the beholder who was nervous about the prospect of another Republican administration - not so much for what it would bring, but for the verdict it would have passed on the Bush/Cheney presidency. A McCain victory to a large degree would have sent the message that the actions of the current administration were not all the very bad. Bush Jr would have been resurrected to some degree and I would have found it very difficult to accept that.
America is a unique country - it is in many ways a 'manufactured' country (Australia is another example), but that is not what makes it great. It is the fact that America is a country of ideas. This is no great insight, of course, but this has always been the appeal for me. Vaneee may be a recent convert to politics, but I have been a political junkie most of my life. It is hard to get enthusiastic about politics in India - so much of the power seems to be vested in the brawn and not in the brain. However, coming to the US in 1991, and following politics here, I was struck by the idealism and genuine desire to play by the rules. So, it was with deep anguish that I watched the Bush/Cheney team dismantle and tarnish that ideal. The right wing media cheering squad drowned out any protest and the low point came when any questioning of the government was automatically deemed unpatriotic. How much longer would it be, I wondered, before there was an actual suspension of civil rights? Maybe Bush/Cheney would even claim that they needed a third term to avoid a change in the middle of the "war on terror." After all, that hero of 9/11, Mr. Guiliani, tried to extend his term as mayor of NY on a similar pretext.
The loss of Gore was harder to take than that of Kerry. It was famously said during that campaign that the election was really inconsequential and it wouldn't matter which candidate won (remember "compassionate conservatism?"). Who believes that today? But as Sid has pointed out, perhaps the silver lining was just too far in the future - would Barack Obama be President-elect today if Bush had not won 8 years ago? The price for this piece of history has been very high though: the blunders in Iraq, the needless loss of life, both Iraqi and American, the loss of credibility and respect around the world, the limits on civil liberties. Will the Obama presidency be so significant that it justifies this cost to some degree? I am not going to guess, but a McCain victory would have destroyed even the hope that something positive could come out of the mess of the last 8 years.
What did really win Obama this presidency? His composure in the eye of a storm? His organizational skills? Disgust with the current administration? The selection of Palin? McCain's erratic behavior? I believe all of those played a part, but the ultimate clincher was something more elemental, something that showed up all the culture wars and race issues for exactly what they were - non-issues. This is not a big unknown - it was the deep economic crisis that was put into a tailspin by the banking mess. It has often been observed that ideals are the privilege of the well-fed. When you are hungry, nothing else matters other than getting the next meal. Morals, ethics, and almost any other principle of modern western civilization gets tossed out the window when it comes to satisfying basic needs. How many Indians do you think will jump at the chance of swapping Indian economic conditions with that of China even if it means getting their political conditions? So, when the economic crisis hit, the issue of Obama's race ceased to be a real factor. People instinctively grasped that it was inconsequential. That is what broke the election in his favor.
Sanjay & Geetha organized an election viewing party, unprodded. Sanjay has a thing or two to learn about full disclosure and I know of a certain house in Miro Ct that will be tuned to CNN for at least 48 hours straight to overcome the withdrawal symptoms. I guess it contributed to the air of wonder and bewilderment of the evening. Could this be happening? Grown men and women were struggling to come to terms with the cold, cruel, reality - no cable! We had the choice of the three networks (accessed through a complex sequence of remote key presses) and an extremely dull effort from PBS. Even the CSPAN programming looked positively exciting, in comparison. There are still some folks who are still waiting for somebody to change the channel to MSNBC or FoxNews. What would be next? Huddle around a vacuum tube radio, smacking it occasionally to improve the reception?
I joke of course. It wasn't that bad - true, some of us may have to have therapy to fully recover, but we did manage to follow the results (except RDX, who kept getting extremely confused by the differences in the projections between the 3 networks) and a good time was had by all. The hosts retained their grace despite constant needling by yours truly and they deserve our thanks. I had to agree with Sanjay's comment -"See what fun you can have with five channels?" at nights end. In the end, the only thing that mattered was that Obama won. It was a special moment when the whole room broke into a cheer when the sign "President-elect Obama" went up on the TV screen. I had to pause for a moment to savor it - here were a group of Indians who are by nature cynical and highly unlikely to admit to any sentimentality, actually cheering an election result in their adopted country. Obama's speech was magnificent as usual. I still remember Mario Cuomo's speech in 1992, nominating Bill Clinton. Clinton himself is no slouch, but an Obama speech is something special. The control and poise that he was able to command at such a powerful moment made his already well crafted text all the more striking.
Will this be a transformational presidency? Maybe it almost does not matter - the transformation has already happened.
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