Growing Up

Belief, Family, Growing Up, Love, Mindfulness / 27.07.2021

My husband’s reflection, soft and nurturing, guided one of our sons in the process of tying a tie. “Will it be a full Windsor or half-Windsor knot?” crooned Damon. Of course, he knew how to jazz up ties. This guy, who as a child was given the task of folding napkins into pieces of art for Cousins Bunny and Hal’s Passover Seder. This guy, who learned what Bunny explained, a fairly simple yet elegant fold, and taught himself dozens of others from a Bird of Paradise to geometric patterns of napkin pageantry, which parlayed perfectly into an Origami hobby because…why...

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Family, Growing Up, Self Love / 18.04.2019

This college entrance scandal has been weighing heavy on my heart and soul; even though I have not committed any fraud or criminal act, how complicit have I been in being part of a society and culture that values success, sometimes no matter the cost. As parents we want the best for our children: a better life; the best of health; access to the best education; and may I add failure. Yes, failure: the act of not succeeding at something, possibly coming in second or not getting on the scoreboard at all. Honestly, our family knows little to nothing about sports....

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Growing Up, Immigrant, Self Love, Women / 26.04.2018

Having moved from Bellwood, Illinois to Rialto, a suburb in Southern California, most people would be elated: sunshine almost all year round, palm trees, and a mere one hour drive to some of the most famous places in our country. But at the age of 12, having left what I knew of home behind – including Tanessa, my childhood best friend – I was devastated and like most soon-to-be teenagers spent my days in an emotional abyss because “no one understands me, no one has ever gone through what I am” and a general woe-is-me attitude. One day to Umme’s delight,...

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Family, Growing Up, Women / 19.04.2018

Daadi was cooking again. After the last school bell rang and I began to walk home, the air became infused with garlic, ginger, cardamom, cloves, red chili, and the new immigrant stink which penetrated everything within a one block radius of our house. Head hanging down, desperately hoping that no one – especially a friend – would ask, “Where’s that smell coming from?” I quickly walked towards the epicenter of the odor. “Salaam,” I called out to no one in particular and yet everyone upon entering the home. “Samita, ya low [take this],” Daadi presented me with a spoonful of whatever she...

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Growing Up, Love, Self Love / 29.03.2018

For decades I looked outward for signs of love, security, nurturing, belonging – home. A year ago my world didn’t fall apart but I did. This past year has gifted me countless opportunities to seek healing, therapy, healthy support, and tested my faith like never before. Broken, not knowing where to turn, and lost in darkness, the Light, which gave hope to my soul was found – within. The holy space - where Awe, Love, and Light reside - shone stronger and stronger, a beacon guiding me back to where God rests, where He never left – the seat of...

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Family, Growing Up, Mindfulness, Self Love / 15.03.2018

Stories elicit sentiments from love to hate, joy to sadness, compassion to misery, and every feeling in the human emotional lexicon. The stories we tell ourselves and make up in our minds have the most control over us. It’s no wonder their influence lasts long after the story is finished and held after the heart needs or desires. Some stories no longer serve our higher purpose so they must be burned at the funeral pyre, ashes floating in the sky allowing ourselves to grow, heal, and begin anew. During the mid-80’s, even though Chicago’s suburb of Bellwood had been home for...

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Growing Up, Humanity, Immigrant / 08.03.2018

A large black and white poster of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz (almost) kissing hangs in our office above the computer desk where I do most of my writing and book-keeping for our family and business. The poster harkens back to an advertising campaign that Apple launched in the late 90’s to “Think different”. Besides Ball and Arnaz, Apple had the likes of Amelia Earhart, Jim Henson with Kermit the Frog, Cesar Chavez, Ghandi, as well as others, all visionaries in their field. I Love Lucy premiered in our home in the early 80’s, three decades after premiering on television in...

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Growing Up, Self Love, Women / 01.03.2018

Breasts. The word alone catches your eye (yes, pun intended). The love, hate, resentment, and finally finding peace for my breasts has been a tumultuous relationship. Daadi, Napo, Umme, Chotee, and Bhari huddled around me in the kitchen of our home in Chicago. Straight away, with bowed heads as if in mourning, someone handed me a stark white item, with what looked like straps on a harness. “It’s time…you’re showing yourself…we all wear one…modesty…decency,” all the voices intermixed, none above a whisper, using what my elementary teachers referred to at school as our “library voice”. Before I could ask any questions, I was...

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Education, Growing Up, Immigrant, Women / 22.02.2018

In second grade I loved drawing, especially dinosaurs; reading and writing were also a favorite pastime. That is the last recollection I have of what I enjoyed or loved because I liked it and not because I was trying to please someone, wanting them to love me, like me, or accept me. In elementary school, the stacks of fresh-off-the-printer paper sat in a wire basket in the corner of Mrs. Sharp’s classroom. It was understood that after classwork was completed, the students had access to the library, the special paper, pencils, and crayons to occupy their imaginations while peers finished the...

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Domestic Violence, Growing Up, Women / 15.02.2018

Damon and I give our children what I call “sandwich hugs”, holding them in-between our bodies while our arms encircle them resting upon one another’s shoulders or elbows locked in embrace. At one time, when our kids were smaller we could squeeze them warmly and tightly, their bodies suspended in mid-air, legs dangling off the ground, as the giggles cascaded off the walls. Being sandwiched between parents – as we do – is warm and comforting. The sandwich my parents created was far from inviting or nurturing.   "The darkness concealed the stress of being an immigrant, a foreigner who barely was...

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