Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Lessons from Our Grandparents

Recently for the first time, I saw records documenting my great grandfather's emmigration from Italy.





A million questions sprang forth: What was he like? How did he feel?

Was he outgoing and funny?

Ecccentric? Or dark and brooding?

I can picture him setting off to sea, eager for a fresh start. In my mind's eye, I see him landing in his new world and trying hard to fit in.

Eventually came his daughter, my grandmother, on the left.





This picture is—of course—worth a thousand words. But I'm more intrigued by the words that were never said.

What was she thinking at this very moment?

What was her inner world like?

Who was her friend? How did they influence each other?

And were they open to desire?

Did their society present opportunities and hope...or constraints and limitations?

My grandmother recently passed away, so she can't answer these questions now. But at the very least (in an effort to better understand the situation) I can try to re-trace her steps.

....

History is the link from her past to my present. Her generation faced the aftermath of WW1 and the great depression. A failed economy, mass migration, extensive unemployment, and increased poverty. Gloom that spread across the globe.

And I can only imagine how much more difficult it may have been for first and second generation immigrants...

...

That was a much different time. Society has changed... and the rules of the game have changed as well.

Our world is an entirely different world to make sense of. It's kinda hard to “follow in their footsteps” or “walk a mile in their shoes” when that road has long been paved into a highway. 

Think about it... today, there are more than one billion internet users. The internet represents choice and possibility.

It reminds me of the printing press from history class. Around 1440, it displaced the old way of doing things—laboriously transcribing texts—and allowed for the mass distribution of knowledge. Sometimes, technology doesn't just make our daily life easier. It also changes the way we communicate, how we obtain knowledge, and deepens our understanding of the world. It changes the fabric of who we are.


By Alte Bilder
With the passing of the older generation, my generation finds itself at an interesting crossroads.

With all that we know now about neuroscience and how influential we are on young minds, we have a moral imperative to leverage this societal shift to promote the good aspects of human nature and minimize the bad.

Sure, in 500 years perhaps anything I do in this life will be long forgotten, but any small impact I had by merely being a good person could leave some faint imprint on future people.

A radio program recently broadcast great words of wisdom from a centenarian. When asked for the most important piece of advice he'd like to pass on, he said:

“Be open to change.

Because it will happen no matter what."

Before the invention of the radio, we would have never dreamed it possible, and when it came out, a lot of people were suspicious of it. Then the same thing happened again with television—it upset a lot of people because they didn't like the direction the world was headed. But eventually people got used to it.

I can still hear his voice say, "If you accept that change is just another inevitable part of life, you'll be better off and much happier.”

 Accepting change frees our minds to promote progress.

What will our generations' legacy be?












Sunday, December 25, 2011

An Unexpected Gift

My mom is my best friend. We share nearly everything: laughs, smiles, stories, ups and downs. She is a wise woman and I owe my identity to her.

These things have always been well known to me, but it didn't dawn on me until today just  how similar we truly are...

One thing I've always kept private is my passion for poetry. She knows I loved writing as a kid, but over the years I've struggled to maintain my voice. Chalk it up to focusing on work, being distracted by fun, and fear of putting myself out there.

Today on Christmas, I decided to reveal that unknown side of myself to my parents. I showed them some of my work as well as this very blog.

My mom listened intently, teared up with pride, and showered me with compliments. I was expecting that. :) But what she did next was a total surprise.  She got up and went to a kitchen drawer. She pulled out a private journal...and to my utter disbelief.... she read me HER poetry.

Beautiful, rhythmic, hidden lines I never even knew existed. Handwritten in a floral journal, marked up and dog eared from re-reads and revisions. All these years I have been struggling to nail down my style in a vacuum, scared to share it with anyone. And while I felt alone with my inspiration, the answer to my struggles was in front of me all along: in my loving mom, in my very own genes, in my family history. Ironically, it was intimate for the both of us and we been sharing in the same experience unknowingly for many years.

For those of you who understand Spanish, here is a special treat - Elvira Abate's first ever written poem with my translation below. I hope you are as inspired to follow your dreams as I am, and equally as  inspired to share those pursuits with your family. Family is really where the heart is.

Merry Christmas from the Abate Family.

Mi Tristeza 

 De esta vida
Al fin he podido rescatar
a mi alma dormida que
no queria despertar.

Despues de su letargo
ha podido comprobar que
tambien las amapolas
se cansan de esperar.

Que los perros lloran
cuando estan dormidos
y le duele el hambre
que tienen muchos ninos.

Me ha dicho que las
tumbas necesitan flores
?o a caso no vivieron  con lagrimas y amores?
o a caso no se fueron con lagrimas y honores.

De unas ella escucha
clamores de perdon
de seres que perdieron
su vida en el error.

De otros que vinieron
en total indiferencia
ahora es el silencio
su mas cruel penitencia.

---- Translation (which of course loses the rhythm and flow)----

My Sadness 

From my soul
finally I can rescue
my sleeping soul
that didn't want to wake.

After the lethargy
I finally realize
that even the poppies
get tired of waiting.

I now see that dogs cry while sleeping,
and it hurts that children go to bed hungry.

My soul is telling me
that the graves need flowers.
Perhaps they didn't come with tears and love.
Or perhaps they didn't leave with tears and honor.

For some of them I hear
cries for forgiveness
for souls that lost their lives in mistake.

For others that lived
in total indifference
now its the silence
which is the most cruel punishment.