27 March 2017

“Forgive often”, she said…

It was a rather successful business dinner. Buoyed with the outcome, I walked into the hotel a little brimming with energy, if I may put it that way. Which was good since I still had a lot of emails to catch up on. Having summarily disposed of the suitcase in the room, I grabbed my laptop and strolled towards the Concierge Lounge in the one full service Marriott that exists in this city (and I take wide latitude in calling it a city) called Dayton in the middle of the vast plains of Ohio.

It was late at night. I was one of a few in the lounge upstairs. And, of course, there was the lady who tended to the lounge.

Emails or a human being? Tough choice. Not really. Human being, it was. A quick night cap was poured, the laptop was firmly closed and the conversations flowed..

“I did not catch your name”, started I.
“I am Diana. Diana Sprowl. Can I get you something”.
“No I am good. Are you from around here?”
“Yes. My dad moved here…” In those few seconds, I realized that I was going to have a great time. First, she seemed to be of a very positive demeanor. She was constantly smiling and spoke with a voice like she was at peace with the world. In spite of meeting many many customers like me every day, the vigor in her conversation with me was self-evident.

We sat down and chatted and I unraveled an incredible history of how she and I got put in the same place at the same time. You know my history. Here is hers…

Her grandfather was from Ireland. He immigrated to Cincinnati. “Why Cincy, of all places?”, I rudely interrupted her. Turns out he was always interested in farming and he became a dairy farmer in Cincy area. Her dad aspired to be in the army. Unfortunately, the doctors had to take a couple of inches of his right leg bone out for a particular condition. I had a hearty laugh as Diana rolled her eyes and told me “You know how dads are. He always preserved his bones and screws and all that in a bottle!”. Her dad, then moved to Dayton.

As she talked about her mom, a picture of a very gritty person came to the fore. Like so many American families of those days, her mom worked in a local industry and then, unfortunately lost most of her right arm in an industrial accident. But as Diana explained, she adapted faster than anybody could. Diana explained how her mom would change her granddaughter’s (Diana’s daughter) diapers with one and a half arm faster and more efficiently than most people. In fact, growing up watching her mom, Diana has a instinct of dealing with things that require both hands often as if she does not have one. Involuntarily, she follows the motor movement that she visually got used to watching her mom!

Diana grew up as one of four siblings. And she has three kids of her own. And 8 grandkids. The most poignant of all the stories was that of her youngest daughter. She met somebody who was one of the few to escape the Rwandan genocide and settled in this country. They eventually got married and had five kids. Diana, fished out a picture of the family from her phone and proudly shoed it to me. Out of a sense of duty towards his religion and the African continent, the gentleman often went to different countries in Africa as a missionary to spread the message of peace and love. And less than a year back, while he was in Kenya, he and the rest of the team vanished. She said that in spite of the best efforts from this country, her daughter is starting to lose hope.

For all that, Diana seemed to be very much at peace with herself and cheery of disposition. I asked her – “You seem to be very content with yourself. What were you doing before this?”. And that is when I found out that she was to be a massage therapist at one time. And a yoga teacher around another time. And then somehow, we got on to the topic of international travel. Apparently the one time she (and her sister) was going to visit a foreign country – Trinidad – there was an attempted hijacking on her plane (I think she said New York airport). And that put paid to her aspirations for international travel.

I finally blurted out “How old are you? If you do not mind me asking you”.
Her answer later, I thoughtfully said “Okay. I am fifty one. I will take some time to get to your age. Tell me something. What should I know now that you wish you knew when you are my age?”

She did not even blink her eyelids… “Love and live everyday like it is your last day”.

I have heard that vein of thought from a few people before. So, I pressed on … “And what else?”

This time she thought for a few seconds and said “Forgive often”.

By now, it was getting late and the lounge had to be closed. I reluctantly put an end to our conversation but not before I let her know that I just hope to grow up to have her cheerful outlook towards life. It takes a lot of grit to overcome so much and yet be able to put that priceless smile on. And that I cannot wait to get back to Dayton, OH.

25 March 2017

From the bartender’s corner – Gin #7: Opihr Oriental Spiced Gin

Very interesting gin. The brand is built around the Oriental touch. The bottle is decorated with Oriental themed pictures and designs – for example, elephants. Many of the ingredients are sourced from countries along the Spice Route. The spicy cubeb berries come from Indonesia and Malaysia, the black peppers, cardamoms and ginger all come from India, coriander from Morocco, cumin from Turkey and the bitter oranges from Spain. The staple of all gins – juniper is sourced from Italy and angelica comes from Germany. It also has grapefruit peels but I could not find out the source during my research.

These all are put thru the distillation process by master distiller Joanne Moore in G&J Distillery in Birchwood, England. This is renowned to be the second largest distillery in England and they claim to be the oldest. They have been using the same London Dry Gin method since 1761.

I tried this straight up. On the nose the junipers and cardamom were immediately noticeable. The citrus made it presence felt too. On the palette, the juniper was once again felt as was the spiciness of pepper. The finish included traces of orange and what appeared to me as most likely berries.

This should work well with since tonic water (try Fever Tree Indian tonic water) or in classics like a Negroni or a London Fog.

25 March 2017

“Soldier” by George L. Skypeck

I had heard that this poem written by Vietnam disabled veteran George L. Skypeck (who after active duty, went back to earn a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree from University of Massachusetts) is one of the most displayed poems among various museums and monuments not just in the US but across the world.

Saw it for the first time in Columbus airport, Ohio.

The words are:

“I was that which others did not
want to be.
I went where others feared to go,
and did what others failed to do.
I asked nothing from those who gave
nothing, and reluctantly accepted the
thought of eternal loneliness …
should I fail.
I have seen the face of terror; felt
the stinging cold of fear; and enjoyed
the sweet taste of a moment’s love.
I have cried, pained, and hoped …
but most of all, I have lived times others
would say were best forgotten.
At least someday I will be able to say
that I was proud of what I was … a soldier.”

-George L. Skypeck

25 March 2017

His Master’s Bol: Friday evening… always means some solo time with tabla and the dog

After meeting Sunita last week, I was thrown back to my MBA days this weekend. I remember, when everybody would be out and about during the weekend, I would be in my dorm room with low lights listening to Ghulam Ali. My next door neighbor – Tej Mohan Singh Chhabra – often used to drop by and help me translate the songs. Tej, if you are listening, you might remember this song that we once listened to together…

“Humko kiske gham ne maara
Yeh kahaani phir sahi
Kisne toda dil hamara
Yeh kahaani phir sahi
Dil ke lootney ka sabab
Poochho na sabke saamne
Naam aayega tumhara
Yeh kahaani phir sahi”

As he explained that evening, this means…

“Do not ask me whose sorrow killed me
Let’s talk about it later some time
Who tore apart my heart…
Let’s talk about it later some time
The name behind who plundered my heart
Please do not ask in front of everybody
For your name might just come up
Let’s talk about it later some time”