Tag Archives: innocence

WORKING ON PRONOUNS or SOMETIMES THERE IS MORE THAN HE AND SHE

I bought a book for the kids a while back called “Peanut Goes for the Hold”.

In effect, it’s a book about pronouns.

Peanut isn’t a he. Peanut isn’t a she. Peanut is a they or a their.

Jaanu used to call Peanut a he. No matter how I read the book, with more open pronouns as it was written.

Jaanu always talked about Peanut as a he.Until today. Where it clicked.

Sometimes, they, are they.

#iamgrateful and #iamthankful for that small acknowledgement.

A small step like this at age four has profoundly positive ramifications and impacts on his perspective at age fourteen and forty.

It’s not about how we see or how we choose to refer to other people. It’s getting to a place of seeing them as they want to be seen, and calling them how they would like to be called.

Luv ya, Bud.

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MY GIRL

Got a lot of QT in with this one this weekend. Lots of growing pains this weekend. Lots of tears this weekend. Not a lot of sleep this weekend (nothing like going to bed next to your daughter at 230 in the am only to be woken up with a tap in the shoulder at 4.) But lots of laughs.

#iamgrateful and #iamthankful for her and all her goofiness. She cracks me up. And she takes care of me. And I adore her in a way I didn’t think was humanly possible.

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My $.02 | When Nothing Makes Sense

RU

Not everything makes sense. September 11th does not make sense. I will never be able to make it make sense. Hopefully, that isn’t the case for many things in your life. I want to have answers. But sometimes, I simply won’t. And that hurts.

You have a Neil Kaka. You had another. He was one of my best friends. For me, he is what doesn’t make sense about September 11th.

There are moments in time that one remembers vividly. This will happen to you. Elated moments. Ecstatic moments. Completely new moments. And tragic moments. The elated, ecstatic, and new moments move too quickly. It’s life on Fast Forward. But the tragic moments, that’s when the world slows down. That’s when seconds feel like minutes, and minutes feel like hours. You process just as much. But you process things in between moments of numb. And so even though I remember September 11th as vividly as any other day in my life, it still doesn’t make any sense.

I remember hearing the planes hit the tower. I remember seeing debris after the second collision. I remember watching clouds of debris race from the West side of the island to the East (where I was) enveloping and swallowing everyone and everything along the way. I remember connecting with everyone and believing in my heart-of-hearts that everyone I knew was ok. And then I remember making the walk to midtown and trying to make sense of it all. I couldn’t.

The rest is a history that remains present always. Everyone wasn’t ok. Your Neil Kaka wasn’t ok. He went into work early. Nothing was ok.

When you grow older, we’ll talk about this. Like my parents talk about the partition. Or like India’s state of emergency in the mid-70’s. We’ll talk about this. And I’ll be devastated every time I tell you about it. Every new bit of information I share. Wanting to balance your innocence with your right to knowledge. And I’ll be devastated because for all I am supposed to do for you in this world, it will never be more apparent that there are some things I can never protect you from. Nonsense. Hate. Anger. Irrationality. Civic irresponsibility. The loss of innocence.

All of the things that don’t and won’t make sense. But don’t and never disappear.

So I’ll tell you this story. I’ll tell it to you honestly. With my arms around you. Most likely with tears in my eyes. So you feel the power of the moment but not the weight of the experience. We’ll talk about what happens after. How when someone leaves it’s your responsibility to figure out what part of them stays. With you. Forever. And maybe on that day you’ll carry Daddy’s tradition of carrying Neil Kaka’s tradition of always giving to the homeless along with you. You’ll see that every time Daddy sees a homeless person the street he reaches into his pocket for some change to pass back. And you’ll realize that Daddy’s just a conduit for Neil Kaka.

Just like you have the power to be a conduit for all of the people you love. Always and forever. Because — just because when nothing makes sense, you do your best to make sense of something. However little. So the world gets back to being a little right again.

I’ll tell you this story one day, munchkin. And if nothing else, I’m guessing Daddy will make a little more sense to you after we’re done.

Kaka

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