Alexis Rankin Popik's Blog, page 4

CELEBRATING IN A CEMETERY?

QingMing in Oakland, CaliforniaOne of many Qing Ming gatherings

Last weekend at Mountain View Cemetery in Oakland, there were hundreds of Chinese families observing Qingming. It is a centuries-old tradition of celebrating around the graves of dead relatives: eating, chatting and decorating the graves with flowers and plates of food. This custom is also called “Cleansing of Tombs.”

At the beginning of the movie Volver, there is a scene of women in Spain cleaning up the tombs of the deceased. And, of course, there is also the Mexican holiday, “El Día de los Muertos.” Obviously, grave rituals are common in many cultures.

It was heartening to see so many people looking both happy and thoughtful, with children playing among the graves and food being prepared.  Mountain View Cemetery is a beautiful urban space, designed by Frederick Law Olmstead, the famous landscape architect. On Qingming, entire hillsides were covered with flowers celebrating the lives of departed family members.

One final note: Mountain View Cemetery is home to  an abundance of wildlife, including the owls and frogs I hear  during the night, wild turkeys whose gobble-gobbles make me laugh every day, and coyotes that keep the turkey population to a reasonable size. Bella, my daughter’s dog, is a big fan of any rituals there involving food. She sneaks through the cemetery fence after hours to clean up what’s left. Thus, in this way, death sustains life….

Bella

HAVE A GOOD WEEK!

THE GREAT MIGRATION

From the archive…

Ever since I was a little kid, sitting on the floor in front of that terrible TV my family owned, I have been fascinated by The Great Migration. Just the words “Serengeti Plain” got me dreaming about the vast space so far away. Luckily, in late August I got to fulfill my childhood dream to go there.

The Great Migration is a continuous motion of grazing animals that moves in a clockwise direction from the Serengeti Plains in Tanzania through the Masai Mara Reserve in Kenya in a big circle. The grazing animals are following after the rains, which in turn produce the fresh grazing material the animals depend on. FYI, the BBC has a new series, Nature’s Great Events, which features The Great Migration. Unfortunately, last night’s episode was about sardines. I couldn’t care less about sardines, though I’m sure they are quite interesting in their own fishy way. But keep a lookout for the episode on The Great Migration.

Meanwhile, here are some unretouched photos I took last month–all from the first 24 hours of arrival in “The Bush” of Kenya. We were unbelievably lucky. In the late afternoon, our guide Jakob took us for a drive near our camp. We came across a weary lion and followed him from a distance for a while. He was a slow walker, so we drove to another area and found a second male lion, hanging out with a female. This meant nothing to us, but Jakob, who grew up nearby, decided it was worth waiting to see what might develop. Plenty developed, as soon as the males caught sight of each other.

It wasn’t pretty.and it was LOUD.

Both lions survived, apparently without serious injuries. They walked away as if nothing had happened.

The next morning, we set out to see if any of the thousands of animals around us were going to cross the Mara River that day. It turns out you can sit in a Land Rover for days at a time, baking in the sun, and no animals cross. But we had come a long, long way and so set off, hoping for the best.

It didn’t take long to find wildebeests standing around. They’re not the brightest bulbs.There were thousands of them.

We made our way to the river, where about 30 other vehicles were already parked, waiting for animals to cross, but there were no animals nearby. Jakob found what I considered to be a hopeless location and we got ready to wait. However, instead of waiting we had to rush to get our cameras ready. The wildebeests came stampeding right past us.

The dust, the sound of hooves and the “gnu” sounds were terrific.The crossing began.

NEXT WEEK: The exciting conclusion!

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LET’S GET GOOFY!

Some people like to be goofy; I am one of them.  As I have noted in almost every weekly blog recently, it is difficult to write something timely that is not depressing  (Ukraine, Omicron, Climate Change, etc.), or frivolous (my hair color, bad drivers, people who sniff repeatedly).  I was fresh out of  blog ideas until I looked through some of the photos I have taken around the world and realized that I know goofy when I see it and it’s goofy that I go for every time.  

HELLO FROM THE TAPIRS AT THE BELIZE ZOOSLOTH JUST HANGIN’ AROUND IN COSTA RICADON’T BE FOOLED BY THIS SWEET FACE.A “SECRETARY BIRD” SUPPOSEDLY HAS A PEN TUCKED BEHIND ITS EAR.OUR LONG-SUFFERING GRANDDOGOUR HOUSE GUARDIAN DIDN’T SCARE AWAY A NESTING BIRDWHO CAN BEGRUDGE A GUY A LITTLE BITE? (MY SISTER CAN.)

I HOPE YOU CAN FIND SOME GOOFINESS IN THE COMING WEEK!

All photos by me.

LET’S TAKE A NATURE BREAK!

It’s time to take a break from politics, pandemic and pandemonium.  I did that this week by visiting grandchildren, walking, and taking photos of male turkeys who were looking for mates. 

Little Teddy doesn’t quite know how to crawl but his “plank” is perfect.

Teddy’s cousin, Baby T., needed to be rescued.

I love Baby T’s shoes!

Best In Show

HAVE A GOOD WEEK!

WE THOUGHT THINGS WERE GETTING BETTER…

Photo by Arifur Rahman via Unsplash

…the curve was flattening….we were more comfortable eating out….we had learned how to compromise on binge watching…..  And then Putin invaded Ukraine.

This isn’t a blog about my political opinions and I intend to keep it that way, but over the past two pandemic years I have found myself singing in my head the lyrics to the old Kingston Trio‘s Merry Minuet song:

“They’re rioting in Africa….there’s strife in Iran….what nature doesn’t do to us will be done by our fellow man.” 

It is wrenching to see videos of Ukrainians with their children, pets and baggage trying to squeeze into underground shelters, board trains and arrive border crossings,  leaving the lives they lived and their men under the age of 60 behind.

“We humans are incapable of imagining the worst that could happen,” a news panel’s talking head said last week.  Well, that man didn’t grow up in my family.  “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” was the standard by which any kind change was judged at our house.  My parents were prepared, at least psychologically, for everything to go wrong.  The only time I remember my mother disagreeing with the Worst Case Scenario approach was when my father proposed building a bomb shelter in our small suburban front yard. His reasoning was that (1) nuclear war was likely and  (2) it was too expensive to put the shelter in our back yard.  My mother responded that she “would rather die” than go along with his plan.

I can’t imagine how the current mess will end, but here is the touching hymn that was the opening of Saturday Night Live—“Prayer for Ukraine” sung by the Ukrainian Chorus Dumka of New York.

WHERE DO MEMORIES GO?

Photo from the National Cancer Institute via Unsplash

COVID has me thinking about memories and what happens to them when a person dies. It is so strange to be living in a world where one simple human contact could lead to an untimely death.  That got me thinking about all the things I have learned, all the memories stored in my brain, and the changes I have witnessed over my life.  Where does all that go?  Nowhere!  All that goes away with me.  My grown kids will no doubt assure me that I have imparted many memories to them; I know this because even now, when I begin to tell a story, one of them will roll her/his eyes to let me know that—yes, Mom—you have told us that before…many times.

I could write a selection of memories in a notebook or sign up for one of those programs in which a person answers a question each month about something from the past.  Eventually that winds up in a book for their children and grandchildren, but that’s not for me.  Maybe if I could put my memories on the lock screen of my granddaughter’s phone, she would read them.

It is probably a good thing that our memories go with us.  They are often unreliable anyway.  (I know this from comparing notes with my siblings.)  Especially in these times, it seems best to live in whatever happiness the moment brings. Here we are. This is what we have to deal with.  We can’t change the past and it is difficult to control what happens in the future. Today I am going to go for a walk with my friend Liat and then watch the Super Bowl with my daughter, her dog, and my cat.  I don’t really care which team wins.  It will be a good day.

HAVE A GOOD WEEK, TOO!

SUNDAY WITH SOUTH PARK

Photo of woman with television by Levi Stute via Unsplash

On this Sunday without football, in our house we are watching South Park.

It has been a long time since I have tuned in to Matt Stone and Trey Parker’s long-running satirical masterpiece and now I remember why—it is hilariously offensive to pretty much everyone. The two shows we watched this morning took aim at Joanna and Chip Gaines of Fixer-Upper fame, Confederate flag wavers, complainers of all stripes, Amazon’s Alexa, anxiety sufferers, Buddhism, iPhones and trendy baby names.

Some years ago when our eldest granddaughter spent a bit too much time watching TV with Grandpa, we warned her not to tell anyone at her oh-so-sensitive school that they had been watching South Park together.  She was an obedient child, so she didn’t TELL anyone—she just posted it as an item in the First Grade classroom news.  Her mother was shunned by a few parents as a result.

It is strange to have a Sunday without watching one sport or another. I can’t work up any enthusiasm for the Winter Olympics. Even though I admire the athletes’ skill and determination, I am too concerned that the big winner this year will be Omicron.  The Golden State Warriors basketball team is always fun to watch but they are not playing today.  Steph Curry, with his incredible skill and goofy, joyful personality is my (and everyone else’s) favorite.  In Oakland, California, where the likelihood of never having enough to eat can be measured by how many feet one lives above sea level, Steph and Ayesha Curry have used their money, influence, and partnership with the Alameda County Food Bank and the Oakland Unified School District to provide sixteen million meals to the city’s school children and also launched a campaign to improve literacy rates in Oakland’s schools.  Curry is not just a good player; he’s a good person.

Since this blog seems to be a kind of stream-of-consciousness effort, I might as well conclude by noting that I really, really enjoy getting your comments and observations and unless you let me know otherwise, if I add them to a post I will use only your first name and last initial.  

HAVE A GOOD WEEK!

WHY I LOVE FOOTBALL

Photo by Muyuan Ma via Unsplash

In some circles, football is on the outs.  The justification is that it is (or can be) a brutal and dangerous sport.  If you have ever watched some of the tackle replays in slow motion, it is easy to see why it is the subject of so much criticism.  Saturday night I watched the 49 Niners vs. Green Bay Packers football game, and it seemed as if after every play someone had to be helped off the field.  As much as I like football, I was relieved when my sons had no interest in playing and chose soccer instead. 

But to me, football—especially the sound of it—reminds me of the Sundays of my childhood and particularly of my dad, who loved watching it.  My Stockton, California childhood was an ordinary 1950’s upbringing—four kids, working father, stay-at-home mother (until the youngest was in school), one car, church on Sundays and a dog.  After six days of work, on Sundays my parents finally sat down and relaxed.  They watched the morning political shows (“Meet The Press” was their favorite) and then the football games began.  I didn’t watch football, but I loved the sound of it in the background and the fact that my parents were happy on football day. My mother didn’t pay any attention to football but she was in the room at her spot on the couch, reading and my father was in his chair, watching the game.  It was such a rare occasion of peace that just the sound of a football game in the background still brings me happiness.  

As many people have pointed out often during the last two pandemic-filled years, it is satisfying and renewing to notice moments of happiness.  So win or lose, Super Bowl-bound or not, I am going to enjoy the cheering, the goofy fans and the announcers’ voices (go, Joe Buck!) and appreciate the memory of my parents’ peaceful Sundays. 

HAVE A GOOD WEEK!

MAKING TIME FOR TIME

I have been missing my mom lately.  I find myself wishing I could call her up to tell her something I know she would enjoy.  She was born on New Year’s Day and this time of the year my sibs and I tend to talk about her and what we remember:  concern for us, her voice, her laugh.  

Mom taking time for time on L’Esperance.

Several years ago, a French friend explained to me what it meant to “make time for time.” It’s a lovely expression for an all-too-rare practice: making time to appreciate the time we have on this earth. The occasion then was a visit to France with my mother.

When my mom was diagnosed with a terminal illness, my husband asked what she wanted to do with the time she had left. She chose a barge trip in France. (Who knew?) My husband, brother and I took her on the trip of a lifetime—six days on the small, luxurious private barge, L’Esperance, meandering along a beautiful Southern France canal while we enjoyed being together.

Half of my heritage is Irish Catholic, so I am inclined to look at the world as if something terrible is going to happen any minute. If it isn’t a natural disaster such as an earthquake, it’s the loss of someone I dearly love. Now, two years into a global pandemic, those fears don’t seem so crazy.  I feel strongly that I need more time—time to clear up misunderstandings, to make amends, time to make sure those I love know what they mean to me. 

Luckily, I–and all of us–still can to do that.  Mom lived an unexpected three years after that trip to France, long enough to return to France with the rest of our family for one more barge trip. While we considered Mom’s unusually long survival a gift, her better gift to us was that we, together as a family, learned because of her the value of making time for time.

MAKING 2022 A HAPPIER YEAR

Photo by aleksandra sapozhnikova via Unsplash

How can we make 2022 a happier year than 2021?  I posed that question in last week’s blog and have some good answers from writers, friends and readers, as well as my own ideas about how to keep our spirits up. 

Much of what enriches our lives derives from friendships.  “Make Old Friends:  How to Build Lasting Ties” is an article by Ben Healy I saved a couple of yearsago.  COVID exposure avoidance has definitely made making new friends more difficult but Healy suggests reconnecting with old friends “can quickly recapture much of the trust they previously built, while offering each other a dash of novelty drawn from whatever they’ve been up to in the meantime.”   It’s true.  I reconnected with a college roommate recently and, though much has happened since we last saw each other (25 years ago?), spending time together was easy and fun.  And despite the ridicule I suffer from my children, I like to keep up with my Facebook friends.

The other path to happiness is to try to appreciate every day.  This is more difficult than it sounds because it is so easy to get tied up in knots over not much. I recently read a note written by a young woman who was dealing with a terminal illness.  She understood that for friends who were not in her situation, it seemed impossible but that she was able to enjoy her life and be happy every day.  I find that taking a walk, whether along a wooded path or on a city sidewalk gives me plenty to listen to (birds), smile at (parents with children) and pet (dogs).  It’s hard to rouse myself to take the walk, but I always come away happier.  And when I do it with a friend, it’s even better.

Here is what Janet Alonzo, my friend from Fourth Grade, wrote in response to last week’s question:

There is so much we can’t control!…But after some thought I came up with something….NEVER WATCH THE NEWS!  I wish I could pull that off but I doubt it.  I think I’ll just have to keep holding onto my very dear family.  They make everything better all the time.  Happy New Year to you and yours.

Have a Good Week!