It’s been crazy. Days. Weeks. Months. Maybe years? It’s been crazy.
I’ve been wanting to write something all day as I’ve watched the stream of photos and videos pop up as reminders on my phone and right here on Facebook.
Facebook was throwing haymakers, Daddy.
All because you turned 80 today.
Not your body. But you. Your legacy. Your memory. Your impact. Your values. Your jokes. You. All the things that are you except for the thing that was you, turned 80 today.
I think that’s what I realized today and that’s what I talked to the kids about this morning. There is no would have. There just is. Is the fact that you turned 80 today.
When I woke Jaanu up and his eyes went from tired, to glinted, to tear coated just enough to bulge but not enough to burst and stream down his cheek. All because it was your birthday?
Also, I’ll tell you, for a four year old, his eyes tested hydrogen bonding better than most and many have.
When Anaiya watched the video of her singing you Happy Birthday — and holy hell, Daddy, am I happy we have that video, I think for Mumma, it may be more important than oxygen some days — when watching her watch that video of you and watching her face turn from laughing and smiling at herself to deeply missing you on your birthday.
When those things happened, I realized that you turned 80 today. To hell with biology. To hell with philosophy. To hell with cosmic theories of existence. To hell with it all.
In your grandson’s eyes. In your granddaughter’s heart. You are here. Present. Deeply present. And you turned 80 today, Daddy. Can’t wait to be with you all the same next year, when you turn 81.
Thanks to Nick Palmisciano for creating this. It’s objectively great.
I think most think they are being the adult in the room these days; the definition of what it means to be an adult is where the disagreement happens. Fundamental.
This is an objectively great video. And if you’re a veteran, I thank you and support you objectively. No matter how much we disagree you get a head start on our debate because of your service.
You get a head start; doesn’t mean you’re guaranteed winning my heart or mind in a discussion, but I promise you, you’ll get a head start. It doesn’t mean I can’t disagree with you, but you’ll get the benefit of the doubt.
I love shopping. But I hate shopping for myself. When I go for me it’s strictly DSW or TJMaxx or Target (with the occasional splurge at Kohl’s when I need a new suit).
I love shopping for my kids. But maybe the person I love shopping for the most is my wife. Because she hates shopping and I think she looks awesome in lots of things she’s never try on herself.
It’s why I get retargeted in a way that makes me believe adtech companies think I’m a 35 y o woman. Today I stumbled upon this and I’m kind of ready to dive into some paperbag jeans or flare for her as we head into the Fall.
#iamgrateful and #iamthankful for adtech and a beautiful wife who trusts my colorblind judgement.
So many things to say about September 11th. I’m not going to say most of them.
I woke up this morning and went about my day as if it was any other day. Get the kids ready. Get them to school. We dropped of Jaanu first. And when I got back in the car, I turned to Anaiya, and asked her if she knew what day it was.
Since she was born, we’ve always found a moment to remember what happened on September 11, 2001. As she’s gained vocabulary, we’ve focused on saying how much we “miss” Neil Kaka, and “goodnight” to him. As she’s gained agency, we’ve worked through how we can celebrate him.
Because that’s what we do for people we love but lose; we make sure they’re never fully lost by remembering them. We carry something they did forward for them into eternity.
On the way from Jaanu’s school to Anaiya’s school I asked her if she knew what today was. When I reminded her it was September 11th she got quiet. When I told her about Neil, well, she took things to the next level.
Oh yeah. She remembered.
She asked for my hand, and when I passed it back to her while continuing to drive, she caressed it and fell silent. When I looked in the rear view, I saw her face. Her eyes. Overflow up with tears. And that’s when I started recording. First, please, find someone who cries for you before you cry for yourself. I had no space or time today. For so many reasons upon reasons. But all I had to do was share a short story and my daughter cried for me (and as you’ll hear, invited me into that release).
My kids are not a piece of my heart; they are not an extension of my heart; they are my heart, evolved. They are my heart, and then some. This is that evidence. What I love though, is how she embraces the spirit. HIS spirit.
One thing I’ve kept alive for Neil was his desire to do for others; he always talked about how his birthday should be about celebrating others, not having a party for himself. I try to do that (as hard as the world makes it, and as simple as I think it is, as hard as it is to be allowed to pursue it).
When we start talking about Neil Kaka and giving to the homeless well, Anaiya’s reaction is priceless in that second video. I caught these moments after the fact; as they caught me a little off guard.
But nothing caught me more off-guard more than getting a call at 3:02pm ET from Anaiya whole she was at school. I had to pause a work call (Mari Labuschagne Parker as my witness!) to pick this up.
Why was Anaiya calling me at 3pm?She was calling me because today was 9/11. And she knew I was sad.
And she made darned sure her whole school and all her teachers knew she was going to call me.
She wanted to tell me she loved me and that she wasn’t going to be happy today because she knew I was sad today.
Well, what the hell folks.
When I picked her up later in the day she gave me the grandest of hugs. The biggest of smiles. Which is when I told her; that I will have sad thoughts and feelings in the future, but it will be impossible for me to be sad with her love and attention around me. She smiled. And that’s when I cupped her chin in my right hand and pulled her gaze to mine, and said it again.”
I may have sad thoughts again in the future, Anaiya, but I want you to know, that with you in my life, I am incapable of being sad.”I don’t think she got it. But I hope those are the kind of words that click at some point in the future. Because she carried me today. Like she’s carried me so many days.
That’s what feels right to me today, about pain and hurt. You can’t hide it. Lose it. Erase it. All you can do is offset it. Cover it. Overwhelm it with love.
I love you, buhboo.
Your ability to feel people’s pain, and to make them feel loved, is a superpower that would confuse and disorient the best of the DC and Marvel universes.
I met Steve Pockross from Verblio years ago at a conference. Steve was the only person energetic and open enough to pursue Indian food after 11pm so we went for it and had a great dinner that’s turned into a friendship anchored in business interests and Colorado sports (Go Broncos).
It was fun to have this discussion and talk about the importance of values in the context of business transformation, leadership, and, a new era of marketing #. It was nice of him to have me on the show given some of the other incredible audience members he’s already had on. #marketing #outsourcing #leadership #lebronjames
Seems the wisdom of man hasn’t got much wiser Than the very beginning of our time Agree or war has been our way of compromising Let live and love has become our biggest lie
Seems to me that fools are even more foolish Thinking of themselves and nobody else But then if asked for poor will riches be replenished They say boot straps must be pulled up by themselves
Feeding off the love of the land Leaving much to be desired Living off the love of the Lord While the price for life is higher
Isn’t love to be admired Has the good in man expired
Stealing all the love and the beauty from the land I awake each morning to the birds a-singing Singing out to God to come and save his own But when throughout the world the cry of love is ringing
Is then when He’ll stop to hear our song Did you know that when you feel the earth a-shaken It’s only mother nature with a crying heart You see we have taken from her for so many ages
Will there be a time when taking stops and giving starts’ Cause we’re feeding off the love of the land Leaving much to be desired Living off the love of the Lord
While the price for life is higher Isn’t love to be admired Has the good in man expired
Stealing all the love and the beauty from the land Yes we are feeding off the love of the land Never hearing what He’s saying
Living off the love of the Lord Never feeling what you’re praying Never praising Him for beauty Only praying God please give me
Stealing all the love and the beauty from the land Stealing all the love and the beauty from His land
During COVID, Anaiya’s teacher has asked that parents record themselves reading a book aloud as a mystery reader to the class. I attempted to do this a few times by holding a book up to a camera while reading and keeping all the right things in view — and I just didn’t like the experience.
So at around 11pm last night I had an idea. To take a parable I love, and one I often tell the kids before they go to bed; and fuse that with my business presentation style and format.
This is the result. The story is an adaptation and twist on a very popular parable called “The Flight of the Hummingbird”. I made some twists to incorporate animals our kids like, extend the arc a little bit, and incorporate more repetition to help with reinforcement.
#iamgrateful and #iamthankful that I did this and that I didn’t think twice about it. The story changes every time I tell it; and as I hear it told back to me there are some points I want to incorporate as I tell this going forward (the idea of “we”, the idea that trying can outweigh and outrank being large or loud or prominent). But for now, it works.
If you have kids, would love your feedback. If you know kids, please share. But given our current times and how handcuffed and how powerless we may feel in so many different environments — there’s power in this hummingbird. I’m finding power in this hummingbird every single day.
I’m also happy to leave this for Anaiya and Jaanu as my Father’s Day gift to them. It would have been easy for me to say I didn’t have the time and making this happen was something I couldn’t do.
But I thought of the hummingbird, and I simply tried my best.
I’ve been trying to write this post for 3 weeks. I’ve tried many different hooks and patterns. I’ve tried to be simple. I’ve tried to be poetic. i’ve tried analogies. I’ve tried to be detailed. Yet every time I got about 350 words deep, I’ve leaned my head back away from my laptop, frowned, selected all of the text in the editor, and hit “delete”.
Nothing I can write does my feelings and my appreciation for you, justice. Nothing.
I have no words. There are no words. Language is limiting. As I understand it, there are over 1,000,000 total words in the English language, over 170,000 in current use, and on average, a person uses 30,000 of them.
As I told your Mama when I proposed to her: “even 1,000 poets, writing 1,000 words a day, for 1,000 years can’t capture what moved me to propose to her”.
Now; for the second time in my life, I find myself verbally helpless; trying to find a way to bridge how I feel with the few words available and the even fewer words I know.
I don’t know how to capture what I’m feeling in words; in a way that you will read them at some point in your future and understand the weight of the feeling and the sentiments behind them.
But what I know, is that it won’t be for a lack of trying.
Anaiya. Jaanu. Buhboo.
For all of my worth as a human being: thank you.
There will come a day in your future; maybe a few, where you’ll wonder if you are up to the task. If you can pass some obstacle in front of you. If you can conquer some challenge. If you can go some Seussian places you want to go.
You will wonder. You will pause. You will hesitate. You will question.
And when you do, I want you to read this. And then, I want you to call me. On the phone. Over whatever device is in vogue when that challenge presents itself. And when I’m past my life while you’re still living yours, close your eyes and picture me. Reading this to you.
There is absolutely nothing you can’t do. Because at age 6 and age 3, you took the greatest punch the world has seen in over 100 years. You took something that crippled towns, cities, states, countries. You took a haymaker that brought humankind to its knees. In days. To our collective knees.
You took that. And you brushed it off your shoulder in a way that would make Aaliyah, Jay-Z, Barack Obama proud. You wiped a drop off blood of your lip in a way that would make Bruce Lee, and every Saturday afternoon Kung Fu theater hero (as well as your Dada Fua) proud.
There has been so much discussion about the lockdown the world has experienced post COVID-19. Coronavirus. Corona – why us? There’s been some discussion about how resilient and adaptable human beings are. How if you had told us 3 months ago the way we’d be forced to live now, we’d never have been able to imagine it; and we certainly would have denied it would be possible .But when it happened, we adapted, and here we are.
Yes. Adaptable. Resilient.
But none of us are doing this adaptable thing, this resilient thing, with your grace.And that is precisely where I lose all ability to express myself.
I want to tell you how one night you went to bed, ready for the next day. Your ordinary next day. An Alexa alarm. Breakfast and drop-offs. School and play time. Somewhere between 9 and 10 hours, a super majority of your life, for a super majority of your days each week, you were immersed in a world that we got glimpses of when we opened your backpacks, checked logs and updates from your teachers, hears mentions of when you had the time, energy and interest.
One night you went to bed, ready to do all the things we told you that you had to do. When we dropped you off at daycare. When we celebrated your first day of school Make friends. Play nice. Listen to your teachers. Eat your meals. Be strong when you’re being bullied. Find strength when we aren’t there and when you feel like nobody else is, however fleeting. Do all these things because they are the most important things for you to learn now.
One night you went to bed knowing the next day was going to be filled with all those things.
And when Alexa woke you up that next day, we told you that wasn’t happening anymore. We told you that schedule, that way, wasn’t going to be the way. For a while.
If that had happened to me, I’d have needed a lifetime to plan, and a lifetime to prepare, and a lifetime to adjust; and I’d go through the motions and I’d do what I’m supposed to do.
But I don’t think, ever in my life, that I have operated with your grace. How can someone be so strong, so unwavering, so staunchly making progress, while doing so in a way that seems so effortless, so natural. You see, when I look at you, I don’t remember the way our life was 5 weeks ago. Because when I look at you, and observe you act, and watch you interact — I am only convinced that the way we’re living now is the only and obvious way we have been living all along.
When I look at my calendar. When I talk to people at work. When I read the news. Tonight is Sunday. Week 5 of quarantine. Poised for an even longer and more isolated road ahead. Into a new normal. Never returning to the way life was before. And it can be overwhelming.
When I look at you, though.
It’s Sunday.
What are we doing today, Buhboo?
Thanks for grading our worksheets, Buhboo!
Yay, we get to watch a movie, Buhboo!
I didn’t like my dinner, Buhboo, but I’ll eat it for you, Buhboo!
When I’m with you, it’s Sunday. It’s just Sunday for you.
And you’ve found a way to make it “just Sunday” for me too.
You can’t see your friends. Except, maybe from across the street. You can’t hug your Nana, Nani, Dadi, Tito Foi. Your Mamu is living with us, upstairs, in the guest bedroom and the best you can do is let him know when you’re downstairs so he can step out to get the tray of food we’ve left outside his door.
You can’t go to the park. You can’t go for ice cream. You can’t go to Charlie Brown’s (yeah, by the way, we need to talk about how for most of your childhood your favorite restaurant was a terrible chain restaurant that indicates you share a palate and a thirst for ambience with people born in the 1940s).You can’t go to school. You can’t go to Tae Kwon Do. You can’t go to Dance Class. You can’t go to Bagels 4 U. You can’t go to Genus Boni. You can’t go to Shop Rite and you definitely can’t get the free cheese handouts there and at Whole Foods. You can’t … do … everything that brought you joy.
Yet you’re still, full of joy.
You are. Absolutely full of joy. It is because of you, I wake up with a bounce in my step excited about what we’re going to do today. Because of how you ask your questions, I focus on what we can and will do today; not what we can’t or can no longer.“Buhboo, what’s our plan for tomorrow?”
What an absolutely beautiful question; Warren Berger would adore it. “What is our plan for tomorrow” is more intrinsically hopeful than “What are all the things we can’t do tomorrow that we could have done 5 weeks ago?
”It’s been 5 weeks, and you’re still asking beautiful questions.
You’re making me see the beautiful.
Your laughs fill our house. Your cries do too; but if we were to put them on scales, there would be no contest in terms of which direction we’re tipping.I’m also watching you grow.
Anaiya: Yoga. Dance. Math. Reading. Mentoring. Eating. Breathing. Guiding. Defiance (I mean, you absolutely hate to lose at a level that would make Michael Jordan proud.) Love. The way you clutch my arm, at bedtime, at wakey time, and at so many times in-between, and hold it like it’s the last arm you’ll get to hold and hug on earth. I can’t help but feel that some of that has nothing to do with me, actually; you’re holding my arm so tightly because it’s the one place where all that’s been taken away from you is manifesting. And riding your bike with no training wheels. Yeah, that happened.
Jaanu: Dance. Gibberish. Letters. Tracing. Troubleshooting. Putting away dishes. Cleaning. Defiance (I mean, you absolutely hate being told what to do.) The way you proclaim to every person who’s ready to hear you that they are “the greatest in the history” is tagline and catchphrase I hope you never lose. I can’t help but feel that you’re expressing that as a way of defining a new baseline for history, and helping people find positivity and feel special in this altogether new way of being.
I’m words, sentences, paragraphs in; and as you can see, I’ve written so much, and I’ve said so little that captures how proud I am of you. How honored I am to be your Dad, your Buhboo.1,000 poets. 1,000 words a day. 1,000 years.
Even when, as a family, we experience the most extraordinary of losses, you find a way to bring love, to comfort, to hug and support — videos weren’t designed to have this kind of impact and sincerity. You have managed to make video feel human and intimate.
Consolation is something you give to people. After loss. After disappointment. Right now, as I read what people write and say and share; I feel an excessive amount of consolation. I see a world full of people acknowledging loss and disappointment and sadness; and from that, trying to force a rose to bloom from concrete.
Consolation is what I see and hear in every interaction.
Except the ones I have with you.
With you, it’s “just Sunday”.With you, it’s “what IS our plan?”
With you, it’s not resilience. Or adaptability. Or perseverance.
With you, it’s not about the new normal.
With you, it’s just what’s next. Your ability to make everything that is, seem natural; and to make what’s next, seem possible. Is what makes me, so uncontrollably humbled and so infinitely proud, and so eternally enamored.
Thank you.
So when that hill, or that mountain, or that sea, or that valley, shows up in your way. I want you to call me. On your phone. On your <<unnamed device>>. On your memory.
And I want you to hear me. Loudly. Clearly.
The world handed you the worst the world has handed anyone. And you flicked, brushed, dusted, and resumed. #iamgrateful and #iamthankful for you.
Thank you, my children. Thank you, my kids. Your Mama and I wish the rest of the universe had you to wake up to, you to bring tomorrow’s schedule to, you … to look forward to.
Because then, they’d all be as happy, as proud, as hopeful, as we are.(And just as speechless.)How much do I love you? More than anything.
Suneet Bhatt 