fruit and flowers

Jon, this anniversary (lounging on a beautiful beach) is going to be really tough to top. But even if the ones to come are full of laundry and homework, it'll be nice just to be together. I love you.

Photo by SecondPrint Productions

This was the best day of nonstop crying I have ever had. 

timber

"I think I've found my new favorite song."

"Please tell me it's by Ke$ha."

"No...It's by Pitbull FEATURING Ke$ha. And it's about square dancing."

"Um, you grew up in California. I'm pretty sure you don't have the first clue about square dancing."

Today was our baby's due date.

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel

 

Remembering you standing quiet in the rain
As I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell in, holding you close
How I always held close in your fear

 

Remembering you running soft through the night
You were bigger, brighter and whiter than snow
Screamed at the make believe, screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage to let it all go

 

Remembering you fallen into my arms
Crying for the death of your heart
You were stone white, so delicate lost in the cold
You were always so lost in the dark

 

Remembering you, how you used to be
Slow drowned you were angels, so much more than everything
Hold for the last time then slip away quietly
Open my eyes but I never see anything

 

If only I'd thought of the right words
I could have held on to your heart
If only I'd thought of the right words
I wouldn't be breaking apart all my pictures of you

 

Looking so long at these pictures of you
And never hold on to your heart
Looking so long for the words to be true
And always just breaking apart, my pictures of you

 

There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart, my pictures of you

The Cure

Oh, and for the eighth year, I'll be doing NaBloPoMo this month.

i looked and i said, "no ma'am"

I am OBSESSED with this. What's not to love? Cute kids, head-bopping beat and after-school snacks. I am not ashamed to say I first heard it on NPR.

all my life

Last spring, I was still working in a tiny office, phone ringing nonstop, furiously trying to keep people happy. It wasn't always easy: There were grumpy patients, other departments demanding their needs be met first, the undesirable evening shift when we flew by the seat of our pants while the people with answers were at home watching The Bachelor. But no matter how frenetic it got, my partner in crappy hours and multitasking, Eileen, always kept things entertaining.

She had a joyous laugh. She was so sweet with the patients, especially the very young and the very old, and she was so very thoughtful to everyone. Eileen was going to use her experience working in a floral shop to assist us with those paper flowers and was already suggesting all kinds of awesome ideas. She took a lot of pleasure demonstrating moves she picked up watching Bollywood dance numbers on YouTube that she planned to show off at the wedding.

***

We had asked our guests to add song requests to their wedding invitation RSVPs. A surprising number of people interpreted that as a request for first-dance recommendations, including Eileen. She gave me a list of about five, all slow-dance jams. But, she insisted, we absolutely HAD to play her alltime favorite, "All My Life" by K.C. & JoJo. So we added it to the list.

***

The music at our wedding was fabulous. A coworker had recommended a cousin duo of industrious Indian college students who had played her daughter's sweet sixteen party. One of them played the dhol, which was right up my alley. They were responsible and punctual and worked with our list. And the dholi absolutely rocked the house. The only beef I can think of was that I wanted them to play "Personal Jesus" as an homage to the mosh-type circles we had in college every time that song came on, and how I would try and keep up with all the boys. I should have clarified that I meant the Depeche Mode version, because instead they played Marilyn Manson's cover. I guess I can't blame those college kids; they weren't even alive when the original came out in 1989. Ol' Marilyn got the job done, but I think the Auntie Patrol was a bit frightened.

***

By the end of the night, when people were munching on McDonald's cheeseburgers and the bartender with moves straight out of Cocktail was trying to convince my brother to have a "slop shot" (a shotglass full of the spilt liquor from the little plastic mat on the bar--he didn't go for it), I realized that I had yet to hear a single slow song. Amazingly, Jon was actually out there, even though he'd never be caught on a dancefloor unless it's during a slow song. Your wedding day truly is a once-in-a-lifetime event.

Suddenly the deejays were announcing the evening was coming to a close, and the last song was going to be a slow one. My new husband took me in his arms as I caught the first few bars of that piano, and the tears began to flow. Of all the great slow songs on the list, they went with Eileen's number-one choice. I cried onto Jon's shoulder until the lights came up.

There were a lot of people I wished could have been with us on that day.

***

A week later, on our honeymoon, Jon and I were on a white-water rafting trip in Costa Rica. Soaked, tired and sore, we were really happy. Suddenly a butterfly landed on my leg and refused to fly off, no matter how I gently tried to shoo it away. Most likely it was interested in the watermelon juice I had dribbled all over myself, but I chose to believe Eileen had come by to say hello. She loved butterflies.

***

Today, Eileen would have turned 35. She died unexpectedly a week before her birthday last year, and never got to show off her moves at our wedding. I made a purple paper rose and kept a purple set of the bangles that we gave out as favors. Her best friend put them on her grave. It would have been great to see her face light up when she heard her request come over the speakers. I'm pretty sure that for the rest of my life, the song will always make me cry.

that's just how i roll, i guess

I spend a lot of time at work listening to Pandora. I have meticulously cultivated more than 20 stations, and there are workdays during which nearly every one of those get played. I like not having to completely decide what I'm in the mood for, so I don't keep any music on my phone (I guess I have to sit in silence when there's no signal). I'm convinced I'll go deaf from having music in my ears all day long, so I keep the volume at the lowest possible level that will still block out the secretary over the cubicle partition ranting about her ex to anyone who happens to walk by.

The other day, Jon was playing something by a band he'd just discovered, and while we normally agree to disagree on musical taste, I was kind of really feeling it. The only comment I could come up with for what I liked was that it felt smooth. Like something you could picture yourself rollerskating to--in a good old-fashioned rink. On four-wheelers with a stopper on the front. Under a disco ball. Come to think of it, nearly everything I like would work well in a roller rink. Well, everything but the Bollywood.

shows that I am NOT young

I've been told that I am the only person who would have a problem with/be annoyed by the fact that the following doesn't really make grammatical sense:

So if by the time the bar closes
And you feel like falling down
I’ll carry you home tonight 

IF by the time the bar closes AND you feel like falling down? I mean, I get why it wouldn't work with the music, and that a whole lot of song lyrics make no sense, but still. I'm not completely crazy, right?  

our song

Thank God for email. I have such a faulty memory, which is probably why I like to document everything. Apparently, Jon and I decided "our song" was Paul Simon's "Something So Right," over one of our daily marathon emails--we would essentially be having a triple-thread instant-message-like correspondence via gmail. Those missives are hard to make sense of later, by anyone else. Within that same message (which was on April 6, 2006), we were also discussing the latest episodes of The Amazing Race and LOST, and how unhappy we were with Libby, Lori and Dave. And some fratboys, apparently. The only downside to living together is that we still have these awesome conversations, but no way of preserving them or looking back to resolve disagreements later.

So what we would dance to during our first dance as husband and wife was a no-brainer:

The lyrics are so true of both of us. Which makes it even more amazing that we were able to find love from another person so different and so far away.

There was so much to pack into the reception. I wanted as much dancing as humanly possible, but I knew that neither Jon nor his mom cared for dancing. I would have loved to have dance to "Teri Pyari Pyari Surat" and then BROKEN IT DOWN halfway through, Mando-style with my dad, to "Galyan Sankli Sonya Chi" with the moves of his people. But that would take more time, and Jon's mom hadn't yet chosen what she wanted. In the end, we decided to combine the parent/child dance to one song that nearly everybody likes--we all danced out there at the same time. It's by a band that Jon's mom, my dad, and the two of us all love:

Of course it's the Beatles. I wish there were more bands out there that appease multiple generations at once. Our kids will definitely be listening to them, too.

For kicks, there's "Teri Pyari Pyari Surat." My dad loves that song, it's my nani's all-time favorite song, from her favorite movie, Sasural, and it plays every time my father calls my cell phone. I love it because it makes me think of him.

It loosely translates to "let your lovely lovely face never attract someone's evil eye," which sounds sort of silly, but some people believe that jealousy toward a successful/beautiful person/baby will end up causing some kind of harm to that person. The lyrics are both a compliment and a protective statement. Hindi just doesn't translate sometimes.

And bonus, here's a Bollywood-ized version of the Konkani classic "Galyan Saankli."

This is totally a Bolly-sampling of the original folk song trying to mimic the oldschool village-style dancing and outfits. The main phrase, "Galyan sankli sonya chi, ee poori kona chi" roughly--and I could be wrong, my dad is sleeping--means, "that girl with the gold chain around her neck, whose daughter/girl is she?" It's a CLASSIC.

It was the right decision: Jon and Mrs. M didn't have too much on the dancefloor, while my dad and I still danced our socks off the entire night anyway. Everybody wins!

the singing

My mom grew up as one of seven kids. As it goes with every family, each person is known for their special qualities. There's the artist, the actress, the one who loved to play with dolls, the mischievous one, the stick in the mud, the momma's girl, the baby, etc. But they each have special talents, too. And while they're all excellent singers, my mom's is known for her gorgeous voice. 

In India, most of the movies are musicals. They put out three a day, and when one is released the soundtrack is EVERYWHERE. I can pinpoint my trips to the Motherland more easily by what movies were out at that time (Mohobbatein was popular during that winter after college). Back in the day, my mom's family didn't have a tv. They didn't even have a radio until later. But they had my mom. Nani loved the movies, so they'd always see the new release right away, and then my mom would memorize the best songs and perform for the family. She started winning singing competitions. The principal would even pull her out of class just to hear a little something in the office. 

When she was a teenager, my oldest aunt snuck away to Bollywood and was actually featured in a couple of movies before my nani made her come back home. Someone heard my mom singing and was begging nani to let her train to be a playback singer (almost none of the Hindi film actors do their own singing, just lip synching to a few very talented playback singers' soundtracks. It's weird, but it works). She said no, my mom was still a kid and had to finish school. 

Even in nursing school, my mom would distract people from studying just by puttering around her room and singing with the window open. Everyone knew her for her voice, and there may have been talk of a proposal from one of her many fans on campus.

  

***

When she moved across the world to the United States, there weren't many opportunities to enjoy Indian things, but my mom was always singing. Her beautiful voice has been in my ears since before my ears were even formed. She sang when she cooked, she sang when she cleaned. And I can't even describe how unbelievably warm, safe and blissful it feels to lay my head on her lap and fall asleep to one of her lullabies. Maybe that's why I never want to go to sleep.

She sang at Indian church, often up at the front but almost always in a group. It was always easy to pick out her voice; she could hit those impossibly high Hindi notes so sweetly, like a violin. I've never admitted this to anyone, but not once have I sang along to the benediction at the end of the service in all my life--I love to bask in the the way she does it. And I may not be the only one--sometimes it felt like she was the only one singing. So many invitations to perform, but she never took it to the next level.

Unfortunately, my mom doesn't sing so much anymore. She's fallen out of practice the last several years. Of course she's still good, but obviously not the same as when we were both much younger. For decades now, I've been begging her to record her voice somewhere so I can hold onto it forever. I'm obsessed with these kind of things, like photographs. But she never has. And that breaks my heart.

That didn't stop me, however, from making one more request. That she sing at my wedding. She didn't say yes right away, but she gave in.

 

 photo by SecondPrint Productions

Walking down the aisle with me and my dad, she was stoic, her jaw set so she wouldn't cry. She seems almost angry in those photos. And she wouldn't look at me the entire time she was singing. It was a church song that I had never heard, but one she grew up singing back home, "Aashishon ki baarish (showers of blessings)." She did, however, turn toward my brother right before she started. He smirked and got her to smile.

She began softly, her voice wavering, and it was a little shaky the entire time. But she made it through the whole song without a single tear. I wish I could have said the same for myself.

I was so proud of her. I am so proud of her.

now wouldn't that be something to talk about while we cut the cake?

My parents are from India. And one thing Indians know how to do are MUSICALS. As luck would have it, my parents enjoy Hindi music, and my father in particular loves him some Bollywood jams*. So the stuff was always on at my house growing up. And LOUD.

Ever since I can remember, on the weekends my parents would play (read: my dad would blast) Hindi music videos while making breakfast. If you want to give me a perfect Saturday morning, wake me up with the smell of fresh parathas and the sound of "the Indian show." Then follow it up with an episode of "Saved By The Bell." I'll be your best friend. For life.

One of my favorite songs of ALL TIME is this 1980 gem from Qurbani, sang by 15-year-old Nazia Hassan:

Dude, this was NINETEEN-EIGHTY. Before the Internet. And 1980 India was more like 1973 in the states. 

I distinctly remember being about three and singing this song ad nauseam at the top of the stairs with a hairbrush. A lot. In 1995, I taught my friend Kai how to sing it, even though she's Taiwanese and doesn't know more than a few Hindi words. She can still sing it to this day, but I'm pretty sure she's forgotten that it loosely translates to "If someone like you were to come into my life, that would be something to talk about/make news." Hindi never translates well. Which just adds another layer of entertainment when you stop to read the subtitles.

I wasn't sure how to go about asking Jon if we can have this cheeseball Indian Disco jam play as we'd cut the cake. I mean, in all the episodes of "Namaste America" I've made him sit through these last six years, I'm pretty sure "Aap jaisa koi" was not featured (though it REALLY SHOULD BE. Are you reading this Obaid?). I finally managed to make my request and Jon says, "Ok, but on one condition, okay?" [Dramatic pause.] That this is the final answer and we WILL NOT BE SECONDGUESSING THIS DECISION."

We didn't. And I was happy.

People came up to me later professing their love for the song, too. You like it? Maybe you'll also enjoy this:

The part that anyone can ever remember starts at about 0:55. And ends at about 1:10. I didn't even bother watching the rest.

the playlist

Most every time I go to a place where there's a deejay I make a request. And I am often disappointed. About 95% of the time I will ask for anything by A Tribe Called Quest just to see if s/he has it or will actually play it, knowing that most partygoers these days have no idea who that group is. Once, at a wedding when I saw the dj was in his mid-50s I requested Al Green's "Let's Stay Together." He said he had NEVER HEARD OF AL GREEN. I don't even know what to say about that.

When the dj seems to have special something, I will ask for Musto and Bones' "Dangerous on the Dancefloor,"* It's a treat if they know it, better if they have it and then amazing if they actually play it. I can only count the number of times that's happened on two fingers.

I didn't want that to happen to our guests, so we let them make requests ahead of time, on our postcard RSVPs:

 

 Despite the "dancefloor will ROCK" language, for some reason a fair number of people thought we were only looking for slow songs. But the ones who got it requested some awesome jams, including my mom's friend, who asked for Salt N Pepa's "Push It." I've got a newfound respect for her.

We submitted a MONSTER list of songs, so I wasn't surprised our djs couldn't get to them all. In fact, people were breaking it down so much that I only heard one slow song the entire evening; I cried the entire time it was on. But I'll save that for another post.

Here's the back of the postcard:

 

That's a drawing done by both Jon and myself. We were just doodling one day and thought it'd be a nice touch, plus it carried the whole stick figure theme on our invites. He did the faces and I did the bodies. Some of you know may already be familiar with Jon's drawings. If not, check out last November, when a lot of his 30 posts were sketches.

This is a bit of a spoiler, as way too many of our guests have yet to receive theirs, but we also used the drawing on the thank-you cards. We're hoping we get them all out before the requisite year of forgiveness is up.

*I searched for lyrics to this song for YEARS, and someone posted them on this blog. Even after six-some years, that is one of the most popular reasons people stumble onto this web site. I am not kidding. 

snapshot

Sometimes when I'm out and about in life, I wish I could freeze time and have a photograph of whatever is in front of me, because it so completely captures the essence of the moment.


Yesterday, Jon and I went to the wedding of a friend of mine from college. The ceremony and reception were beautiful, and the bride looked stunning in her white gown. The skirt was pinned up on itself all over with little decorative details, and it swayed so gracefully when she was walking. At the party, she traded the veil for a white feather fascinator and just looked like an all-around princess. Her man didn't look too shabby either.

The bride has a 9-year-old from a previous relationship, and it was so obvious that her new husband and her son get along like lifelong pals. It was clear that the three of them have already been acting like a family for quite some time now. I got teary during the Unity Candle lighting, when instead of joining two flames, the couple and the son joined three.

We didn't see too much of the son at the reception, however. When introduced, he sprinted across the room and to his seat at the head table to avoid as many cameras as possible and shielded his face as if he were going to jail. I don't even know where he was for the majority of the evening while we all broke it down--even getting up as a table to shout out the lyrics to "Ice Ice Baby" to get the newlymarrieds to kiss (glass clinking was strictly forbidden).

But somewhere toward the end of the evening, after many guests were heading out, the girls yelled along to "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" (someone didn't know who sang that song and was reprimanded accordingly), Michael Jackson's "Beat It" video was haphazardly recreated, and we twirled around to a merengue or two. Somewhere in the middle of all that, a few groomsmen were evidently coaxing my friend's son back toward the dancefloor by getting him to do the moonwalk. He was attempting it, in slow, deliberate motion.  And soon enough he was in the middle of the crowd, moonwalking back and forth in his own world. Suddenly, without even looking up from the floor, he began to do the robot.

The crowd, who'd formed a circle around him, exploded in cheers. He was the center of attention for the rest of the night. He even hit the floor a few times, attempting to do the worm.

At one point, the gorgeous bride, the dapper groom and their son were surrounded by a dance circle of their friends and family, bouncing to the groove. The lights were flashing. The beat was bumping. And the bride took a second. She knelt down, her fancy skirt spread out in a fan around her, and tied her little boy's shoes.

If only my camera battery hadn't died.

can't get you out of my head

I am persistently troubled with things being stuck in my head. But worst, by far, are the songs. In fact, at my first job, a coworker and I had a contest over which of us could get a song stuck in the other's head without actually singing it. And as much as I dominated that game, it got a little close at times.

I heard somewhere that if you have a song stuck in your head, doing a little quick mental math can boot it right out. And that probably works, but I have such little patience for arithmetic that I often give up on it before I get too far. So said annoying song remains intact.

But today I was listening to a radio interview with Amy Sedaris, who is famous for her books, her comedy, her sibling, David and her show with Stephen Colbert--Strangers With Candy. She said that Colbert once told her that the best way to get a song out of your head is to think of that old SpeedStick deodorant brand-recognition jingle-ender, "By Mennen!"

They had so many commercials back in the day:


For the ladies:


And even En Espanol:


It really works!

they won't know you're the bride unless you pile on the bling

We went to an Indian Wedding Expo today, and there was a fashion show. A pretty well-known Bollywood playback singer was singing during the catwalk.

This dude was, from what we could guess, a late addition. I think he was a bouncer. And he was pretty proud of being the biggest guy there. 

 This woman was Queen of Something. We weren't sure what.

The singer was pretty talented. And a good multitasker. Unfortunately, he didn't think anyone would see him checking his phone DURING his performance because he was kind of behind the curtain.

For the last song, he picked out some Caucasian people in the audience. "What's your name? Sandra? And you? Esperanza, that's nice. Amy? Well this song is for you three. And all the rest of my American friends." Then he busted out a very commendable version of Bryan Adams's Everything I do, I do it for you.

you won't get this if you don't listen to Weezer

We just got back from the Weezer concert at the Aragon Ballroom* and I've gotta say, the band put on an excellent show. I only wish I could say the same for the people in the audience. 

Here's a little bit of commentary from H and I, Siskel and Ebert--style.

H: I don't know if I know how to do "Siskel and Ebert--style." Doesn't that mean that one of us has to hate it?

C: No, they agreed sometimes, right? Anyway, we can agree that we both loved the songs (except that one I didn't like) and that Weezer put on a great show. 

H: Agreed.

C: But those motionless dudes in front of us who only came to life for the Pinkerton songs, those guys I could have done without.

H: I could have done without them, the potsmokers, the chick next to me who was constantly updating her Facebook about how much she loved Rivers Cuomo. Coulda done without a lot of them. 

C: I was coveting the balcony seat of that one guy ROCKING OUT above us. Kind of like when we went to see Rancid and my boss hooked us up with center balcony seats. H, what are some highlights for you? (That's part of my s&e spiel.)

H: I just enjoyed Rivers's performance, because he was just fun to watch. And when they had that radio contest winner come out and duet "(If you're wondering if I want you to) I want you to," I thought it was going to be terrible, but it turned out pretty decent. I didn't know if they were putting any prerequisites on whether the person had to know how to sing or not. You know, at first. 

C: She was pretty good. She's from my hometown--of course she'd be good. I liked when he put on the blonde wig and did the Lady Gaga "PokerFace" cover. But the sad thing is that everyone in the audience was surprised. What's that about? That song is on the new album. At concerts I've been to in the past, I always felt lame because everyone already knew all the words to the latest album--which, duh, came out right in time for the tour. NOBODY knew any of the new songs, which I was pretty much rocking out to. I can admit it: I LOVE POP MUSIC.

H: Yeah they did "Let it all hang out" early in the show, and the crowd just stopped moving. Nobody was singing along. They were just standing there like they were waiting for it to be over. 

C: I think people were way too uptight. And I'm tired of people saying Pinkerton is the be-all/end-all of the band's catalog. Seriously people, there are WAY MORE SONGS that do not sound like that. GET OVER IT. As you can see, I'm not much of a fan of Pinkerton. I happen to adore the fact that Weezer's Cuomo is "ticking off some of his hardcore fans." Hello, hip-hop? I'm all about it!

H: It's like you hate Pinkerton on principle now. I think it's a decent album, but I agree, it's not the be-all/end-all, but their entire catalog is solid; there's not an album that I don't like. I don't understand how you're ticking off fans just because you do something they don't like. What are you a fan of the in the first place?  

C: Yes, I now hate it on principle. I can't believe people are stupid enough to think bands are supposed to sound exactly the same from album to album. Bands grow, too, people. Which is sad, because maybe I would have given it a chance if it weren't for the die hards who hate on everything else. Make Believe is the album that resonates with me the most.  

H: I agree. I'm always annoyed when fans don't like a band to experiment. I'm a fan of the *artistic* side of it. If you want to keep re-creating the same album over and over again, I'm just going to get bored with it.

C: Amen.

H: Less Than Jake is the same way. Some of their fans got pissed when they changed up the band a little bit.

C: Same with Madonna.

H: What songs didn't we hear that you wished they would have played? 

C: There were so many. Personally, I would have loved "This is such a pity." I'd say that's the song that made me really start liking them. It reminds me of driving around with you in California and falling in love. I also like "My best friend." But I'm a sappy cheeseball.

H: Those were good times. It's funny because it took me three or four full playthroughs before I started to really like Make Believe. On the flip side, their new album, Raditude**, I've loved from the first time I heard it. 

C: We could go on and on, but then it'd be like that part of I Love You, Man when Paul Rudd and Jason Segel were talking on the phone to "go over the setlist" of the Rush concert and Rashida Jones felt all left out. Actually it's going to be exactly like that. Here's the setlist*** from tonight's show, which was the first stop on their national tour: 

Opening acts: Jack's Mannequin

1. Hash Pipe

2. Let It All Hang Out

3. Tired of Sex

4. (If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To

5. Say It Ain't So

6. Troublemaker

7. My Name Is Jonas

8. Perfect Situation

9. Why Bother

10. Dope Nose

11. Undone (The Sweater Song)

12. Surf Wax America

13. cover of Pink Floyd song that is killing me that I don't remember the name of

14. I'm Your Daddy

15. Can't Stop Partying

16. Beverly Hills

17. Pork and Beans

18. Kids/Poker Face 

19. Island In The Sun****

20. Buddy Holly

*References to Chicago places like this are what made me EXTRA love Audrey Niffenegger's Time Traveler's Wife.

**Apparently, Rainn Wilson came up with the name of the latest album.

***Don't quote us on this order.

****This was the first song in the second encore. Rivers pretty much performed it by himself using a loop-back machine. He started off by playing a few measures on the drums, followed by the bass, then a little rhythm guitar and he had the crowd do the "hep hep"s. Wil Wheaton linked to a similar-technique performance by Kid Beyond. The concept is very cool; probably one of our favorite things of the evening.

triple double

I think all I really needed was a good night's sleep, peeps. Of course, it would have been nice if I didn't get called in to work an hour and a half early, but still. I feel (just a little) bad complaining so much, but DUDE, YESTERDAY SUCKED SO VERY BAD. Today, on the other hand, was almost as many hours (I'm at the filthy public computer again) but not nearly as busy. All of the broken equipment has been fixed with parts flown into O'Hare, everything is back to the usual, and no one really yelled at me today (can't avoid the passive-agressives, of course).

I'd say it was a pretty good day--mostly in comparison to yesterday, though. The best part? This patient had to go through a very drawn-out exam that involved drinking bottles of this nasty stuff. She got here at 5 am and was sitting in the hallway for about 2 hours before her test. I had to pass by her about forty gazillion times, and each time she either smiled at me or had her eyes closed because she was straight-up JAMMING (I'm talking up on her feet and rump-shakin') to music on her iPod.

Before she left, instead of saying "Have a good day," I told her that seeing her awesome attitude really made mine.

and i'm sure i'm not the only one who feels this way

When celebrities die, I feel sorry for their families. But when I heard Michael Jackson passed away, I truly felt a sadness though I'm not nearly his biggest fan. I was trying to explain this to H--who enjoys his music but doesn't feel much of a connection--and I wasn't able to put it into words.

But this afternoon as I sat and watched coverage of Michael Jackson's memorial service, I realized what it is: The guy is a big part of my personal soundtrack. Thriller and Bad were some of my first beloved cassette tapes, and I'm pretty sure my brother and I could still re-enact the choreography (and the dialogue) of Smooth Criminal. It's probably why my first impulse when I heard of Michael's death was to send him a text message.

During those long summer days after The Dukes of Hazzard was over and my mother had threatened bodily harm if my brother called her at work ONE MORE TIME to say how bored he was, there wasn't much to do but pop a movie into the old Betamax machine. Soap operas are hardly entertaining for a fifth-grader and a first-grader stuck inside without cable until 2:45. Especially when the first grader a) didn't like to read b) could only tolerate one board game a day c) ALWAYS decided on the film/entertainment even when pretending it was my turn and d) had an Approved Watching List of just three movies: Home Alone, Troop Beverly Hills and Moonwalker.

We watched Moonwalker a lot.

It didn't end there. He made me cut off the fingertips on one of my white gloves and put sequins on it to go with the white sock/black shoe ensemble required for video dancealongs. And though I was always reading a book, it was cute to look up and see his little legs imitating the steps. I smile just thinking about it.

My brother has been home visiting for about a week, and he's coming to stay at my place to hang out and catch up. It was a treasure last Christmas to find Troop Beverly Hills in the dvd bin at (of all places) the hardware store, but it made a phenomenal stocking stuffer. It'd be great to get Moonwalker and watch it with my brother one more time. Though I doubt he'll dust off any of those old moves. Well, maybe the spin, if I'm lucky.

The only example I can think of to put the passing of Michael Jackson into perspective for H is that it's a little like how it'll feel for him when longtime baseball announcer Vin Scully dies. H grew up listening to Vin call the games for his favorite team and says it's just not the same with anyone else at the mic. We've never actually met these people, but experiencing what they do best has become like a delicious, familiar smell: One whiff, and you're right back in your 1989 living room, laughing as your brother shuffles his feet, hoots and grabs his crotch in time to the television. It's not like the new music Michael Jackson might have made would be the same by any means, but acknowledging that he will never sing another song just solidifies the fact that those lazy summer days of dancing around are truly gone forever.

the weekend isn't complete without the Indian Show

For the last 20 years or so on local non-cable channels (in Chicago it's Class A stations that air Polvision, China Star TV and Greek, Filipino and other cultural shows)--before 24-hour Hindi programming was available via satellite dish--they've shown Bollywood music videos as well as entertainment gossip and news on Saturday and Sunday mid-mornings.

As a kid I'd wake up to my parents making brunch to these shows. And while the music videos are supercheesy (and nowadays a little sleazy), the weekend is simply not the same without them. The ones I catch most often are Namaste America, which has news and songs; Desi Jams, which is all about the music videos; Bollywood Now (?), which is celebrity gossip; and Desi Tunes, which is a local program that throws in some South Indian* videos once in awhile. I'm sure there are a bunch of other shows, too, but it all depends on what's available in your area.

The segues between videos often have newsy little tidbits.

The highlight of the entertainment gossip show, Bollywood Now, is its voiceover talent. I can only describe the woman's accent as having had a terrible accident (What's wrong with sticking to a regular Indian accent?). She incorporates as many American slang words as possible and, most of all, speaks with the lilting tone people often use when imitating a stereotypical "British mum." However the combination is pretty riveting. I couldn't find a clip, but here's an example of an interview done with a completely un-weird voiceover--it's from a show that aired on the west coast sometime in 2007.

Lovely, but it doesn't have quite the panache as the crazy lady who does the show that we get. The actor featured, Aishwariya Rai Bachchan, is in Steve Martin's latest Pink Panther movie.

My favorite part of the weekend programming is a feature on Namaste America called the Shout Outs. People write in their little messages and Obaid Kadwani, a serious-looking guy who sometimes does the news, reads them out.

I can't imagine anyone doing it better. One of these days I'm going to send one in. Probably to H, because as much as he pretends he's not paying attention, I like to think he secretly loves this stuff. But more likely, he just tolerates it because I love it.

How can I have a post about the Indian Show without a clip of what it's all about? I would have embedded it, but the best version of "Desi Girl" from the film Dostana with subtitles has embedding removed. The movie takes place in Miami, and these two guys pretend to be a gay couple in order to be roommates with the woman they both are interested in. Subtitles are often RIDICULOUS on these songs, but I chalk that up to translators whose English isn't as strong as their Hindi.

I should go back to school, learn Hindi properly, and do some of these lyric translations justice. It could be a totally new career path! However, it probably won't deter Bollywood from incorporating English phrases that don't make sense--whoever approved "Krazzy" as an alternate spelling for "Crazy" should be smacked around--but there's only so much one desi girl can do.

*It's important to note that Bollywood alone is not a fair representation of all things Indian. When you cross a state border in India, it's like going into another country with its own language, food, customs and dress. The movie industry puts out about three films a day, but that's across 18-some official languages, which each has its own "-wood." Not to mention the documentaries, theatrical productions, etc. And there's a lot I don't know about this stuff; my love for Hindi movies is tied up in the nostalgia of my childhood.

when you're on camera, be sure to sit tight

"I love the Indian show."

"That's obvious; we watch it every single weekend. But they really need to do something about the on-air talent."

"You know I only watch it for the songs and the news, not to see these people, right?"

"I know, but this guy needs to stop swaying when he talks. It's very distracting."

"So is his shirt. What's that say, 'Sit tight Babushka?' "

"I bet that's an inside joke from the wardrobe department."

last link in the chain

It's no secret that I love that I'm Indian. I can't get enough of the food, the cheesy movies and the sometimes inexplicable superstitions, and the culture has really shaped who I've grown to be. In recent years I've tried to absorb as much as I can, from learning Devanagari script to unlocking the secret of making a killer gujiya.

But is it all for nothing? Am I going to be the annoying person whose children roll their eyes whenever she tries to get them interested in some music or a movie? Does it make a difference that I can cook all this stuff if nobody wants to eat it? My own brother has never taken a liking to our culture--while we'd dine on dal and chawal or chicken curry and fresh roti, my mom would make him a separate meal of pizza, spaghetti or a hamburger. He's just not into it, and I can accept that, but I hope he'll be more interested when he's older. Because we don't have any family here; he's all I will have beyond my parents. And there won't be many family-friend get-togethers with long folding tables of aluminum vats full of food like those we had during our formative years; even the after-church tea receptions are rarer as time goes on. Besides, our family friends have their own extended networks with whom to share spicy Thanksgiving turkey and four different kinds of bhaji among the plates of mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce. Everyone has moved on, and the preferred path is the one of least resistance. One of my friends even says the reason she doesn't cook Indian food is because her parents do such a good job she just lets them do it.

I wasn't always this keen on the traditions of my culture. When I was in junior high, our family started going to this evening Hindi church service on top of the morning mass we'd attend every Sunday. Mom and Dad wanted to give us a sense of the community they'd left behind. It was a whole lot of praying for a kid, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't think it was a drag. However those sermons boosted my Hindi vocabulary exponentially, and I saw people my age who were actually into the culture. I looked up to them, noticing their pretty outfits and that they already knew how to do all the cool dances and cook complex dishes by the time we were in high school. I wanted in on all that, and for once I felt lame because I didn't embrace my heritage, after all those years among my school friends when the opposite was true. And after a little while, I started appreciating that stuff for its own merit, not only to fit in.

But all of those people have moved on and away. Our family doesn't attend that church anymore. I have several closets full of gorgeous outfits, but noplace to wear them. I can't even cook Indian food in my condo for fear that any lingering aromas might turn off potential buyers. I used to feel so confident saying it doesn't matter--that I'm Indian enough for everyone--but the truth is that holding onto a minority culture is a whole lot of work. And if you're the only one interested in keeping up with it, just doing something you enjoy once in awhile can quickly make you feel like an unwanted proselytizer preaching to deaf ears, even if all you want is some company during a cheesy movie.

When I go back to my parents' house, I can indulge in comfort food, binge on some bad soap operas and catch up with my family in grammatically questionable Hindi. But I won't be able to do that forever. And if enough time and resistance wears away at my enthusiasm, a big part of my identity will be relegated to the spice rack--busted out about as often as a non-Chinese family springs for dim sum or hot and sour soup. And that just makes me want to cry.