Heartcrossings

My friend B brought me a home-cooked Bengali meal one day as a surprise. She is a prolific cook and I have long admired pictures of her dishes she shares with me. So that day, I got to taste it for real. Her cooking reminded me of a grand-aunt who passed away several years ago. The same attention to detail, the perfect balance of sweet, salt, spice and heat. This is not a meal cooked in a hurry and certainly not a meal cooked without love. Just like that one rainy evening in a hotel room, far away from home I was transported to the last time I had a meal in my grand-aunt's home. I remember the polished wood of her small dining table and the spread of dishes I loved. It was as if she knew this would be the last time and she wanted it to be memorable. I did not recognize the momentousness of that meal but in years since, that has been the benchmark of the perfect Bengali meal. I compare my own efforts to it and it inspires me to improve every time so I get closer to my ideal. B was m

While packing food for a road trip recently, I found myself thinking how we decide if something makes sense to take for a trip and now easy or difficult it would be to find a place to sit and eat it. Sandwiches in their own bags and something to drink from a spill-proof bottle are the reliable and fail-safe options. Reasonable people would settle for that because it is sensible. But for me, eating like I was still at home is a big factor in choice of food - I am creature that likes being comfortable and will prioritize comfort over commonsense sometimes.  This also means carrying a lot of extra things to make it all work. When I pack for a road-trip. I am often reminded of a story my mother used to tell of one of our distant relatives. The man had eight kids and worked for the Indian Railways post-Independence. He travelled close to free with his large family with his railway pass but food still had to be paid for and he was known to be thrifty.  Apparently they had a huge custom-made

Great story about taking action instead of experiencing climate anxiety, having a skill and putting it to use: “I’ve been jumping for 25 years, and I’ve always pushed the limits with risky jumps,” he shares. “Now, I’m 51 years old, and I don’t have that drive for danger anymore. I want to do something to help. Like the seed drop, this next project will have real meaning behind it.” Reading this got me thinking about things I have seen people his age do drive change where they can and how they can, gifting their time and talent. There is E who left his senior executive job in a large bank to become a high school math teacher. His kids had left to college and wife after decades of staying home to raise the kids, had returned to her physical therapist job she absolutely loved. There was no pressing need for his big salary and he decided to go make the best difference he could - get kids to love math. It's been almost a decade now and he still at it and loving it.  The way E tells it,

Came across this via LinkedIn a few days ago - the question is a valid one but the response not so much. I often try to think back to the time when I was among the youngest in the workplace and see if I can recall how I treated those who were then my age today. The thing that comes to mind that we generally ran in different circles but sometimes there would be overlap. The folks I was hanging out with socially outside work were more like me than not. We had things in common, kids of similar age, relative challenges. It made sense to learn from each other and even get tactical help and advice. Someone with children who were already married was not the right target for the questions I had about dealing with J's kindergarten issues. That was not about leaving them out - it was just not a intersection of what I needed and what they could offer.  Yet, we did go out to lunch and happy hour with a wide assortment of people, sometimes generations apart. There was a lot that I learned from