How Jurassic Park left me bruised....

My first year in the country, before I started working, I spent some time with friends who lived in Michigan. I don't know if this was coincidence or by design, but each of my fabulous friends took me out, and showed me around every day. It might have something to do with my efforts to help out at home by loading the dishwasher and turning it on after pouring in regular dish washing soap.

One of the best parts of this "showing around" was going to the movies (yeah, there wasn't much to do in MI 20 years ago). And the first one in the series was Jurassic Park! I could not control my excitement. This was an incredible treat, and of course, it came with popcorn during the movie and dinner after. What I did not know was that my friend, who had already seen the movie a couple of times, was still not completely over the "scary" parts of the movie. I did not see any danger in letting her hold on to me during the movie. Well, I realized soon that a "scary" scene was coming up shortly by the intensity of the pressure on my arm. I screamed before the scene as each new bruise appeared! Thankfully, it was a short movie, and I did enjoy the dinner after. Fortunately, we went to Cool Runnings the following day, a less dangerous movie.

Twenty years later, Jurassic Park and Cool Runnings continue to be amongst my favorite movies, and not just because they are great movies, but because of the memories. And my friend and I remained movie companions for years, watching many movies on opening night. She also happily delegated to me the role of movie companion to watch 'Star Trek' like movies with her husband.

So many memories, of which the funniest has to be the year we bought each other identical Valentine Day cards. She also organized a surprise 30th party for me (sigh, I hate surprise parties) to which she invited my closest friends, some of whom she had never met, and had to get very creative to get their contact information from me. But the most touching memory is the day of my very big graduation party at her house, when we both held hands and cried as we remembered the family members who were missing.

We now live on opposite coasts, but I think of her every time I go to the movies. I think of her when I miss my parents. I think of her when I wear a black belt and brown shoes (a story for a different day).

I love you, my dear friend, and I look forward to seeing you again very very soon!

Happy Birthday! And remember, no matter how old you get, I will always be older than you.

Identity, where do we come from, and where is home?

I stumbled upon Pico Iyer's Ted talk called "where is home" in my attempt to find something that could entertain me for at least 20 minutes while I struggled on the elliptical trainer. It is possible that I clicked on something other than "funny", but this had my full attention within a couple of minutes. And by a strange coincidence, the following week, I listened to a NPR podcast on 4 Ted talks which featured 4 people, including Iyer, on their journey and identity. These talks inspired me to think deeper about how I identify myself, particulary Iyer's statement that what you consider your home is not just the place where you sleep at night, but where you stand in life.

Pico Iyer's Ted talk - http://www.ted.com/talks/pico_iyer_where_is_home.html

NPR podcast on Identity - http://www.npr.org/2013/10/06/229879937/identities?showDate=2014-02-21

I love the rain!

The rain always brings special memories of my childhood and college days. It was a family tradition to welcome the first monsoon shower by stepping outside and literally dancing in the rain. The first rain showers were the sign of the end of the summer. I still remember the scent of the first rain, the petrichor, and wonder if you can still smell it now that there are fewer trees and more pollution where I grew up.

Although shopping for a new pair of gumboots was the highlight of the monsoon fashion season, often the water level on the streets was high enough to fill them and make them useless. Walking home from school involved several stops to take off the gum-boots and empty out the water. This was made harder by the fact that we had to carry our schoolbags on the top of our head so the books did not touch the water. Any challenges that the rain brought was quickly forgotten with a steaming cup of tea and the delicious pakoras. I still make, or at least dream of making pakoras when it rains.

The rain could be full of surprises, too. I took the train to south Bombay on my way to an interview, and got soaking wet because I was too close to the door. I enjoyed every minute of it, and knew that the interviewers would understand if I showed up in wet clothes. Well, it was sunny and dry at the destination, but the hospital I went to was kind enough to give me some towels to dry up, and scrubs to wear to the interview.

And there was the trip to Pune with my PT classmates! Wading through the water with suitcases on our heads, not thinking for a minute that the train to Pune would most likely be canceled. Fighting our way on to one of the few trains that was not canceled. And breathing a sigh of relief when it was only drizzling in Pune, not pouring as it was in Bombay.

My first rain in Chicago was very different. I wanted to go out and enjoy it, but it was April and a very cold 45 degrees Fahrenheit outside. I sat at the window and stared at the rain for hours, wishing to be consumed by the fragrance of the first rain.

I miss that rain. I don't miss the floods, and the challenges, but I have fond memories of those. Warm or cold, a drizzle or a thunderstorm, I absolutely love the rain!