Ok, I know there are far more important things going on in the world that discussing Michael Jackson seems trivial – but there is a memory I wanted to share, that I shared with my son while we were watching Michael Jackson music videos Saturday morning. I was commenting on how he really had transcended generations and his videos were (and still are frankly) second to none and to drive my point home, I recalled a family holiday, when we were all (all of us, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents) huddled around the TV in the backroom watching “Beat It” and amazed at the dancing discussing the fact that he had used real gang members – yadda, yadda, yadda. Admittedly, its a fairly insignificant moment in time, but one that brought us together. With family members now gone or changed as a result of illness and how at one point in our history Michael Jackson brought generations together and created a memory that I could share with future generations.
Music is an interesting catalyst – and while some days I struggle to connect with my teenager, we can always have fun singing Beatles songs together or discovering new bands that we all love, like the Flobots. If there is one piece of advice that I could give about having a teenager, it is to get to know and love their music – stay current with it, because there is still nothing that says I love you like a music mix made just for you – and when they make one for you that’s them saying “I love you” and when you play it back that’s you saying “I love you too”. Turn up the volume and turn down the noise.
Just like myself, my friend Christina is not a very enthusiastic cook. We are firm believers in cooking Dutch style: bread with cheese or jam for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch and a simple hot meal for dinner.
Not bread, pancakes!
Christina loved her Iranian in-laws dearly and was happy when they came to visit her in Holland for a month, but cooking for them drove her crazy. At that time, the older generation in Iran used to eat two hot meals a day, which meant that elderly housewives spent most of their time in the kitchen. This was one aspect of grandpa and grandma’s visit that Christina was not too happy about. Moreover, she was quickly running out of ideas as to what to cook for them. One bright morning, she decided to make pancakes for lunch. She was sure grandpa and grandma would like them. Grandma was curious to see how they were made and sat in the kitchen to observe the whole procedure. As the baking got along, grandma started to look more and more concerned and finally could not stop herself from blurting out: “The next time you want to bake bread, I’ll do it because you just don’t know how.”
After 20 years, Christina still gets upset when we laugh about this episode.
I knew it was going to be bad, but in reality it’s so much worse than I thought it would be. I could live with the painters, who only broke a glass table, scratched up a solid wooden cabinet, dropped and broke some porcelain statues and made a mess when they sanded the walls and ceilings. I survived all of that. But then arrived a very nice gentleman who would repair and fix my parquet floor. At the same time some carpenters would fix the stairway and several doors to the bathrooms. They took the doors with them so they could fix them in their own workshop. So there I was: radiators taken outside as the floors beneath them needed fixing (and it was freezing at night), not a toilet or bathroom in the house with a door, and my whole house, including everything stored inside the closets, covered with a thick layer of dust because of the abrasing of the parquet floors. That’s when I started to cry. And what a coincidence! It was Tasua when all of Iran cries for the death of Imam Hossein. This was the first time ever that I cried with them.