Newsday OpEd- pieces by yours truly

http://www.newsday.com/opinion/oped/expressway-suddenly-trapped-in-the-deluge-1.9061603
http://www.newsday.com/opinion/oped/a-personal-memory-of-the-9-11-tragedy-expressway-1.9270827
http://www.newsday.com/opinion/oped/for-immigrants-traditions-old-and-new-expressway-1.9517841 Also in print on 10/19/14)
http://www.newsday.com/opinion/oped/america-must-keep-striving-for-greatness-expressway-1.9595946


Cioa!

R.

Birthdays, Superstitions, Dad

December 25 is a very important day for me not because it's Christmas but because it is my late father's birthday.  In 2010, in his absence, I still planned on celebrating his birthday in my home as a guest I was expecting that day also shared my father's birthday. The guest, my sister's mother-in-law was born the same year, and same day as my father.

She, her older son and his wife were to be our guests on Saturday. I got busy getting ready on Friday. I planned the menu and went to the stores to purchase the various items I needed to prepare the feast. I was at BJ's to pick up a few items when my cell phone rang. I answered and my son on the other end urged me to get back home right away. He had received a call from my aunt in India that my father had taken ill and that I must go to India immediately. As soon as I hung up, my phone rang again and it was my sister younger than I by ten years and change. She was sobbing. I calmed her down and returned home asap. I phoned the guests I was expecting on Saturday and informed them that the next day's party was cancelled.  Next, I went on the Internet and scouted for a plane ticket to India. All I found was a business class on Qatar Airlines leaving JFK that night at 11:20 p.m. I booked immediately and got ready for my trip. I was allowed two carry-on's and so I packed two carry-on's. I didn’t bother about a check in. These days I lug only a carry-on anyway.

As a business class passenger I had access to the VIP lounge at the airport and my two sons and husband accompanied me into the lounge and enjoyed the buffet dinner. We talked and joked around and I felt convinced that there was no way bad news awaited me in India given the joie de vivre of the present moment.

Once I got on the plane and the pampering reserved for the non-economy passengers began I kept feeling that an anti-climax ending awaited me in India. I poured my heart out to the kindly passenger a burly man also of Indian descent. He assured me that my father would be all right. I chanted all the religious chants I knew even as the knot in my stomach tightened and the lump in my throat refused to clear. I found even the pampering by the flight attendant, a handsome young man, annoying. I asked him to just leave me alone.

After nearly 12 hours, we landed in Doha, Qatar to change flights. Again, as a business class passenger, I had access to a shower. I freshened up as I prayed. Afterwards, I realized I also could access my email in the facility provided by the airline. I took advantage of this. One email's subject line read: your father.

As I opened it, I kept hoping the news was good. It wasn't. I just broke down. I have no idea how made it back to the plane or climbed all those steps leading to the cabin carrying my two carry-on's. The very first flight attendant I encountered I communicated my story between tears and later to a young passenger next to me, an Indian student returning home for vacation from the US. I felt ashamed I was pouring my heart out to strangers but I had to. Or else I would have exploded from the kind of sorrow I had never experienced before. They all understood and were kind and consoling.

Four hours later, on December 26, 5:00 a.m., I was met at the airport in India by my cousin. He had lost his own parents recently, and before him I was calmer even as I hoped that the email he had sent bore incorrect news.  When I got to the house where my father's body was encased in a frigid glass box I was speechless. Nobody was crying. The mood, of course, was somber. As I circled the box I spoke to my father silently. “What did you gain by refusing to return to the US per my request asap.” He looked handsome, healthy (what a joke!) and taller than he was when alive and only asleep not dead.

My mother, always a philosophical person who also had been in depression since 2006 January was eager to have the body removed asap. Guided by the priest, I carried out some minor rituals and the body was gently placed on a palm frond bed woven fresh by the priests then and there and carried away in a van for cremation.  Dad had died within two hours after turning 81 on the previous day, which was also his birthday. Later, my research showed that Shakespeare too had died on his birthday. It was the month of April and I wondered if it was Easter.

I blamed myself for my father's death. Had I not gone to Europe in October 2010, my father would not have left for India though my suggestion to him was to stay in Boston with a family friend for ten days while I was away. Anyway, as soon as I returned from Europe in November, I did insist that I'd bring him and my mother back to Oceanside where he was getting excellent medical care and every time he went into emergency he returned safe and sound. But he wanted to wait till March when the weather got a bit warmer. March never came.

My biggest fear when he chose to go to India in October was if something serious happened to him he might not survive. For extreme health issues, I felt that the US would have been the right place for him. I think I was right. But in this case, right is not what I wanted to be. The only saving grace, I kept hearing from relatives that he was very happy those few weeks he was there. I wasn't surprised because over the re he felt so much more independent than in the US.

For whatever reason, for many years now, even before my father's passing on his birthday, I feel superstitious about birthdays. Normally the adventurous kind, however, on September 10, 2001 when I encountered extreme weather on the boardwalk in Long Beach where during warm days we go for a walk, I wanted to return home pronto. The next day, 9/11, was my husband's birthday.

Now, last week, when my mother had a heart failure and was admitted to the hospital, I felt terribly pessimistic. Why? Because March 6 was her birthday. Thank my lucky stars, that day, just like I wanted, I took a bouquet of some choice flowers for her and right now she's recovering at the south shore health center, a rehab facility in a neighboring town. No matter, I will continue to be superstitious about birthdays.

Love you, dad!

 Ciao!

 

The Destructive Squirrel

It was December 2009 and winter hadn’t quite arrived yet. At least I wasn’t ready yet. My animal instinct wasn’t as sharp as I wish it had been. Had it been, then I could have stopped a crime from happening. But I did catch the criminal red handed. Oh, with what impunity he helped himself to what was mine.

I hadn’t yet put away the cushions on my deck chairs because it wasn’t quite winter yet and at least in my mind this was a way to prolong summer. At first it wasn’t clear who had ruined one of these cushions. A small crater in the middle of one of them really stumped me for answers. Normally, I am a good sleuth. Not this time. Anyway, for now, I just flipped the damaged cushion over because we could still use it. I felt puzzled as to how the damage had occurred. And then I caught the criminal red handed. He is the cutest creature God has created and probably God’s favorite. Nothing that this fellow needs is not provided for him. Right now he needed the stuffing that was the cushion. Once he began clawing the cushion for the fluffy, featherweight, cloud-like stuffing the only sensible thing for me to do was to videotape the evidence. I captured about 5-and-half minutes of pure destruction. His stiff bushy tail straight up in the air like a cleaning brush his "motorized" paws began to gather up the stuffing and neatly bundled the collected amount into a ball and tucked it under his chin. Then he hopped off on to the deck railing and then after balancing himself and securing further the ball under its chin he hopped on to the tree branch and then the fence and then disappeared. He made several such trips, each time, packing more under his chin and disappearing over the fence. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was up to. He was lining his nest for winter. Until he revealed it to me, I didn't even know about the stuffing in the cushion.

The saying “the universe provides” could not have rung more true than right this minute. My hard earned money of about $125 had just now been given away to a freeloading though enterprising squirrel. I could have tried to save the four cushions but all had been damaged and at least three beyond redemption.

So instead of crying over spilt milk I did what any sensible person would do. I uploaded the video on YouTube with the note how badly it snowed just two days later. Mr. Squirrel, a responsible provider, on his own, bless his animal instinct, must have known about the upcoming snow storm or he must have paid closer attention to the TV or radio or the Internet weather forecast. You too can witness this squirrel’s ingenuity and let this be one cautionary tale for you, too.  Here is the address:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zt78B9RMhmM

Ciao!