From the (g)olden age to the information age

I try not to get too personal here, but some interesting things have happened that may make me cross that line a bit. This primarily concerns children of immigrants or those who have large elements of other cultures, but it's also food for thought for everyone. Bear with me, this is going someplace.

My grandmother lives with us. She's a dear and all, but she can be very annoying at times. She's my dad's mother, and so you always have that "mother-in-law" tension going on, but being here for 25+ years does a lot to ease that. When she's not criticizing in a "subtle" way, she's usually nitpicking at other things, but I feel that that's some leftover idiosyncrasy from her family life. Today, she was in a good mood, so I knew good conversation was coming forth. Normally, she talks about religious topics; folk stories and deeper religious stuff comes naturally for her. Sort of ironically, she's the most religiously liberal person I know.

Today, however, she decided to talk to us (my brother was present, too) about her childhood and her experiences. From where she was and how she grew up to where I am and how I've grown up, there have been tons and tonnes of changes. My grandmother told us stories of how she grew up in a village, how she could walk between two or three villages easily, with no worries about safety, about how she moved to Mumbai and picked up on some Marathi, about how her parents were and what was important to them.

As first-generation American-born kids, we have a lot of responsibility. Inevitably, the culture that's handed down to us will dissipate and fade over a few generations. Language usually goes first, and food goes last (or so I've found, while for me it's the opposite). Why is the preservation of this culture so important?

The way I see it, we learn very often through experience, but we also learn important lessons through the experiences of others. We learn not only how to act, think, and feel, but also how to be through what we learn from the experiences of others. If you have access to a wealth of experience from someone else in a drastically different place and time, why would you not use that? Of course, repeating "In my day, we had to..." as if it's some holy mantra doesn't really help the cause, but when you can show your kids, who are growing up with really nice plumbing and the internet what it was like to have to pump your own water and walk for miles just to get to school, you can show them that there's nothing wrong with hard work. Being smart isn't the only thing in the world, and there are plenty of people who don't luck out and have to work hard to make ends meet. Most importantly, just because you happen to be smarter, or work harder, it doesn't mean they don't deserve your respect.

There are important things worth keeping. Because of my background, I had an easier time identifying with and learning to work with certain ideas. Some of this was because of the remnants of clan culture that were passed on down, but a lot of it was independent of what my parents and grandparents taught me. There's even a handful which they consider completely rebellious. But, I found a lot of value in what I've learned. I want my kids to share that.

Actually, no I don't. My kids, and everyone else's, will be their own people. I can only try to give them what I have and hope they can use it. They will have their own dreams and hopes, beliefs and rebellious ideas. All I can do is provide what I value, in hopes that they will use it if they need it. I really think this is something that people in general forget. You don't have kids to make them something; kids are there to become something of their own.

And, while we have an easy way to find what we need, language doesn't quite work the same way. In my grandmother's time, and up to my parents time, you could easily tell where someone was from based on how they spoke. It's true of a lot of places today, too, but it's different when more than half of the active vocabulary in a language becomes borrowed English words. Gujarati now is degenerating rapidly, and indeed, so are many of the world's languages. It's not just English that's "taking over" either.

My grandmother's brand of Gujarati is very different from others'. Her dialect is one small way she identifies herself. We all have a need to identify ourselves and find belonging (consult Maslow if you're doubtful about that), and for many, familial/ancestral idiosyncrasies really help. More often than not, we mix and match those with our own ideas.

And this all will eventually fade. But, while we can, we're responsible to keep it going. Not in some trivial way. I hated being criticized for not being "a real Indian" because I ate meat (Hindus have a long history of eating all sorts of meat), or speaking imperfectly (everyone actively makes mistakes in speech in all languages). Just because I don't value what they, or they don't value what I do (you wouldn't believe how many of them don't know the first thing about actual Hinduism or Indian history), or I don't value it for the same reasons, I get criticized. The big picture is what's important here. What's important is that I find some sort of identity, and for my own purposes. We'd do well, all of us, to keep this kind of stuff in mind.

So, while I may be very annoyed at my grandmother for her nitpicky habits, I really love the times when we connect over important issues. I don't think I can properly explain what the internet is to her, or how the times have changed between mine and hers, but it's enough to know the difference and smile eagerly when she's telling me stories. Appreciation goes a long way. And, when she's stubbornly trying to be as self-sufficient as possible, I'll let her do her thing, but stand close by in case she does want my help. I hope that the future will see the past's desire to be self-sufficient, but will offer its help when necessary. It's the least we can do.

A long way in a short time.

A bedtime post. I thought I'd make a short commentary on technology tonight, in anticipation for the upcoming week.

Technology. Mention it, and the first thing that most of us in the older end of the "internet generation" can think of is, "We've come a long way. I remember when..." Many of the early teens out there probably know a lot about how their older siblings or parents had to deal with 14.4 modems, or how they could get free phone calls with Cap'n Crunch whistles. They probably haven't heard of the Bell Labs stuff, the beginnings of BSD, or vacuum tubes. My friend Casey recently moved out to California and had a professor who had to explain programming with vacuum tubes, and how punch cards worked. Even at (almost) 23 years, I feel old knowing this when so many of my younger peers don't.

The reason is that technology progresses, and at an increasingly more astonishing rate. Blah blah Moore's law, blah blah blah cheaper, blah blah blah blah blah, blah innovation blah.

Now, I'd like to call to attention an article from Lifehacker's Kelly Abbott, entitled "How Zach Braff (and I) Get Thank-You Notes Done." The article explains how both the auther and Zach Braff use an "old-fashioned" (compared to computer, I suppose) typewriter to personalize their own thank-you notes. Kelly Abbott contributes weekly to a series of articles called "Ungeek to Live" at Lifehacker.com. I read it religiously.

In a time where technology improves close to light-speed, it's nice to take some time out and remember to do things slower. Not just remember, but learn how to, and why it's sometimes better to do things in a "dated" manner. I've taken up calligraphy, and I write things in an even more old-fashioned way than standard pen and paper. I've ground my own ink, fixed my own quills, and scratched a lot of paper before I learned how to "paint" words properly, and I still am nowhere near consistent. But talk about letting your emotions unfold! As I write, my hand gives words an incredible character, almost akin to changing fonts at will depending on how I'm feeling whilst I write, automatically. Quick, determined writing is scribbled in print, while poetic thoughts turn out with (attempted) graceful cursives bends. If I'm rushing, afraid, enthused, or bored, it shows up without me even having to. Or, should I so choose, I can make my handwriting appear to be any of those even when I myself am not.

Just an example. It's rewarding to take a step back from fast-paced everything (including progress) now and again. It's a "rebuilding" moment that gives you some room to prepare mentally, so that when you rush in again, you're primed. It has become a science in and of itself, much like a lot of the byproducts of habits in our tech age, like blogging and programming VCRs (if any of you still know what those are). For the first time, I see how new fields, subjects in school, and departments in universities pop up.

So, should you ungeek, or supergeek to live, take a bit of time to consider why the opposite is so important, and spend some time intertwining the two. I think you'll find that together, technology and nontechnology can go well together.

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In retrospect, I should've alluded to the bauhaus again.

And, I realize that "Just an example" should have gone with the previous paragraph, as that would have been more proper. Screw prescriptive tendencies. I like my leftist writing style.