I had a wonderfully stimulating conversation with a wonderfully accomplished lady a few days ago. I have always admired the kind of person who devotes her own time and money to make the lives of others better, and well, this lady was one of those! Overwhelmed by the selflessness of the nature of her work, I spontaneously offered to create a complimentary video biography for her. She seemed to like the idea and her first reaction was to suggest using the video as an informational tool about her organization. Maybe upload it on to the official website and attract more members? I abruptly realized that even though she understood I was a 'video biographer', it didn't quite translate the same way in her mind that it did in mine. So I proceeded to explain.
"The focus of the video biography would be more on you and your life - rather than solely on your professional accomplishments."
"I get it," said she.
"So I'll be asking you questions to help you revisit your life from childhood onwards. What was it like to grow up where you did? What was it like to be young in a world your children would find hard to recognize as the same as theirs? Growing up, going to college, getting married... you know, offering your children the opportunity to hear how you used to be at their age. To learn about the journey your life has taken to arrive at this present day moment."
I could see from the look on her face that these questions were changing her perception of a video biography. She still seemed excited by the thought but it was now for different reasons. We talked through all the doubts in her mind - apprehension of being in front of the camera, doubts about how the conversation may not be interesting, skepticism regarding the wisdom of telling a stranger the story of one's life etc. In the end, she seemed satisfied and we parted ways.
A day later, she told me she had changed her mind. I wasn't going to force someone to document their life experiences or see the merit in doing so, but I was curious. What was holding her back? What downside could there possibly be to creating one's legacy? Had I mentioned it was going to be complimentary?
"I don't see the point in it," she replied. "At least with the video about my organization I know other people will watch it and learn more about what we're trying to achieve through it. But with a video just about my life... what's the point?"
I wished she would go through the experience as there was no doubt in my mind that the point would become amply clear once she did. At the same time, I don't quite think the value of it eluded her grasp. She wasn't ready. And there was nothing I could do to change that. So I nodded my head and hoped fervently that her children have good memories. That they committed to their heart every nuance about her that they loved and cherished... so that they are able to pass it on to their children. And the children after that. So that they will one day know that Grandma was so much more than just that.
Aditi
Friday, June 25, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Video Biographies: Father's Day
So just around the corner is Father's Day. I would like to be equal opportunity and say that just as my mother got a special early delivery of her video biography DVD for Mother's Day, so will my father get his on June 20th but that would not be quite true. For the simple reason that he refused to sit in front of the camera the last time I visited them.
Don't get me wrong. He's all in favor of the idea of documenting personal histories and is quite generous with suggestions on how one can improve the experience for the people being interviewed, but when it came to be his turn, he suddenly became very busy. Knowing him as long as I have, it shouldn't have come as a big surprise but it was a little one nonetheless. This is a man who has visited 54 countries. Received an award by the prime minister. Earned his MBA by going to night school so that he wouldn't have to quit his day job. And who, 40 years later, left a lucrative international assignment to start a small business at age 60. How could he possibly feel that he had no stories to tell?
The truth hit me when I was taping my mother's interview. She was looking beautiful that day - all dressed up in a new outfit, matching pearl earrings; she had even sprayed her favorite perfume seconds before the interview began. And as soon as I pressed the red button to start, she was charming, smiling, articulate and emotional. I noticed my father slipping in to the room at several times during the interview; presumably looking for odd things but all the time, glancing at my mother from the corner of his eye. Leaning in a little closer to hear what was being said. And that's when I realized he was nervous of the camera. That this man who had given interviews to journalists about the expansion plans of his company and made presentations to investors and decision makers, was a little unsure of what to do when it came to speaking about himself.
Of course once he saw the finished product of the interview, and realized that my mother had quite enjoyed the experience instead of being scarred by it, he was more open to the idea. And I made an effort to point out to him that he wasn't expected to give a speech about his life for two hours during the taping of the video biography... instead, I hoped to gently lead him down memory lane with my questions. To draw his attention to events and memories that he may have forgotten he had. And revisit his life alongside with him. Not to interrogate or question. But to observe and learn. Well, when you put it that way, you're not going to get much opposition, his eyes twinkled at me in response. But it took a while to get him feeling this way. And that's why my Father's Day present to him might end up being made on his birthday or during the holidays which is when I'll see him next... but he got the gift certificate in the mail today and he's got 6 months to choose which suit he's going to wear for the occasion. There's no wiggling out of this one, Dad!
Aditi
Don't get me wrong. He's all in favor of the idea of documenting personal histories and is quite generous with suggestions on how one can improve the experience for the people being interviewed, but when it came to be his turn, he suddenly became very busy. Knowing him as long as I have, it shouldn't have come as a big surprise but it was a little one nonetheless. This is a man who has visited 54 countries. Received an award by the prime minister. Earned his MBA by going to night school so that he wouldn't have to quit his day job. And who, 40 years later, left a lucrative international assignment to start a small business at age 60. How could he possibly feel that he had no stories to tell?
The truth hit me when I was taping my mother's interview. She was looking beautiful that day - all dressed up in a new outfit, matching pearl earrings; she had even sprayed her favorite perfume seconds before the interview began. And as soon as I pressed the red button to start, she was charming, smiling, articulate and emotional. I noticed my father slipping in to the room at several times during the interview; presumably looking for odd things but all the time, glancing at my mother from the corner of his eye. Leaning in a little closer to hear what was being said. And that's when I realized he was nervous of the camera. That this man who had given interviews to journalists about the expansion plans of his company and made presentations to investors and decision makers, was a little unsure of what to do when it came to speaking about himself.
Of course once he saw the finished product of the interview, and realized that my mother had quite enjoyed the experience instead of being scarred by it, he was more open to the idea. And I made an effort to point out to him that he wasn't expected to give a speech about his life for two hours during the taping of the video biography... instead, I hoped to gently lead him down memory lane with my questions. To draw his attention to events and memories that he may have forgotten he had. And revisit his life alongside with him. Not to interrogate or question. But to observe and learn. Well, when you put it that way, you're not going to get much opposition, his eyes twinkled at me in response. But it took a while to get him feeling this way. And that's why my Father's Day present to him might end up being made on his birthday or during the holidays which is when I'll see him next... but he got the gift certificate in the mail today and he's got 6 months to choose which suit he's going to wear for the occasion. There's no wiggling out of this one, Dad!
Aditi
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Video Biographies: The value of personal archives and family documents
For almost a month now, I have been volunteering a few hours of my day on a weekly basis at an archives and research library here at Austin, TX. Personal archives (and not just my own!) have held my attention for a while now, and I'm fortunate that in creating video biographies for others, I inadvertently get to share in their narrative. I get to know their stories and often come in direct contact with the records of their past. Photographs, newspaper clippings, journals, letters etc.
This got me curious.
Would the documents of complete strangers hold an appeal if they were not 'clients'? Is there anything substantial to be gained by the stories of others if they lived a hundred years ago - with nothing common between us except that we have walked the same ground at different points in history? Hence the visits to the archives library.
The answer is yes.
Of course I learned things each time I visited. I had never encountered a fluting iron before. It's what they used back in the day to add frills and pleats to clothes. Or bullet moulds. Rusted and creaky but innovative and efficient nonetheless. One cent coins from the turn of the 20th century... and hidden between them, an official looking brass coin with the words 'Good for one drink' barely legible. Interesting, it would appear people had a sense of humor even then. Medals from wars. Commemorative plates celebrating presidents. Lace hair bands worn by anonymous women. Meat grinding machines and cannon balls.
These archives and documents may belong to people I was never acquainted with but they told countless stories and pieced together a glimpse of my world as it used to be. Of society and community. Of history and world events. Of local news and gossip. Things were different back then. Then again, not as much as I would have thought.
And that's what stands to be gained from documenting each of our personal histories. It is a way of acknowledging a life well lived, yes, but it is also a way of communicating how we live to the people who will come after us. So that they can make sense of our journey. And through that, their own.
Aditi
This got me curious.
Would the documents of complete strangers hold an appeal if they were not 'clients'? Is there anything substantial to be gained by the stories of others if they lived a hundred years ago - with nothing common between us except that we have walked the same ground at different points in history? Hence the visits to the archives library.
The answer is yes.
Of course I learned things each time I visited. I had never encountered a fluting iron before. It's what they used back in the day to add frills and pleats to clothes. Or bullet moulds. Rusted and creaky but innovative and efficient nonetheless. One cent coins from the turn of the 20th century... and hidden between them, an official looking brass coin with the words 'Good for one drink' barely legible. Interesting, it would appear people had a sense of humor even then. Medals from wars. Commemorative plates celebrating presidents. Lace hair bands worn by anonymous women. Meat grinding machines and cannon balls.
These archives and documents may belong to people I was never acquainted with but they told countless stories and pieced together a glimpse of my world as it used to be. Of society and community. Of history and world events. Of local news and gossip. Things were different back then. Then again, not as much as I would have thought.
And that's what stands to be gained from documenting each of our personal histories. It is a way of acknowledging a life well lived, yes, but it is also a way of communicating how we live to the people who will come after us. So that they can make sense of our journey. And through that, their own.
Aditi
Sunday, May 9, 2010
A Lifelong Example
In honor of Mother’s Day, get out that video camera, audio recorder or pen and paper and if your mom is living and nearby, see if you can grab a story or two from her. Maybe ask her about how she used to celebrate Mother's Day when she was a girl or a story about her own mom--or what being a mom has taught her. If your mom has passed away, honor her by recording a story about her which showed something you learned directly by watching her "in action."
I'll share one about my mom who at age 91 is still going strong. One thing I used to observe when I was little is how she would handle returning something to a store. In those days, the customer wasn't always considered right and return policies were often more rigid. If she was not a satisfied customer, she was always polite but always firm in expecting a refund or fair exchange. I remember being no higher than her elbow watching the process and always seeing her succeed in getting what she wanted. She was never rude but always insistent. One time, it involved successfully returning a pair of my shoes that she thought should have lasted longer than they did. As I got older, I found myself recalling her technique before heading out to “do battle.” One funny example happened when I was an adult. She was visiting me and we had gone to the grocery store. When we got home and were putting the groceries away, she noticed that the carton of eggs we had just bought contained a broken one. Her immediate response was that we should go back to the store and exchange the carton. I smiled and told her that I knew I was letting her down but I was not going to drive 15 minutes for the sake of one broken egg. We then both had a good laugh.
Yes, example is one of the best teachers and I am so fortunate to have a mother who serves as such a positive one for me as well as the rest of my family.
--Bridget Poizner
I'll share one about my mom who at age 91 is still going strong. One thing I used to observe when I was little is how she would handle returning something to a store. In those days, the customer wasn't always considered right and return policies were often more rigid. If she was not a satisfied customer, she was always polite but always firm in expecting a refund or fair exchange. I remember being no higher than her elbow watching the process and always seeing her succeed in getting what she wanted. She was never rude but always insistent. One time, it involved successfully returning a pair of my shoes that she thought should have lasted longer than they did. As I got older, I found myself recalling her technique before heading out to “do battle.” One funny example happened when I was an adult. She was visiting me and we had gone to the grocery store. When we got home and were putting the groceries away, she noticed that the carton of eggs we had just bought contained a broken one. Her immediate response was that we should go back to the store and exchange the carton. I smiled and told her that I knew I was letting her down but I was not going to drive 15 minutes for the sake of one broken egg. We then both had a good laugh.
Yes, example is one of the best teachers and I am so fortunate to have a mother who serves as such a positive one for me as well as the rest of my family.
--Bridget Poizner
Friday, April 30, 2010
Chicken Soup Isn't Always A Cure
Last week was a busy one for me. I conducted interviews in Kansas City, Louisville and Washington D.C. On my flight back to San Diego, I started feeling a cold coming on and upon my return home I made a large kettle of chicken soup in hopes of warding it off. I was very motivated because I was supposed to fly back to D.C. yesterday to attend a full honors military funeral at Arlington National Cemetery. This was for a client I had interviewed 18 months ago. He had been a p.o.w. in a German prisoner of war camp during WWII. I was so honored when he shared his experiences with me during the interview--especially since he told me when I was setting up the camera that he was not going to talk about the war.
When his widow emailed me to tell me of his death and invited me to attend the interment ceremony, I knew I would attend even though my schedule showed that I would be in D.C. the week prior. What I didn't count on was getting sick and in spite of the soup and laying low for several days I am still too ill to travel. As I write this, the ceremony is taking place at this same point in time and though I'm not there in person hearing the bugle play and the echo of the rifle volleys, I salute this gentle and courageous man. The other day, his wife told me they would be playing his interview at the reception held after the interment. It's rather nice to think that I contributed in a small way to the celebration of his life.
When his widow emailed me to tell me of his death and invited me to attend the interment ceremony, I knew I would attend even though my schedule showed that I would be in D.C. the week prior. What I didn't count on was getting sick and in spite of the soup and laying low for several days I am still too ill to travel. As I write this, the ceremony is taking place at this same point in time and though I'm not there in person hearing the bugle play and the echo of the rifle volleys, I salute this gentle and courageous man. The other day, his wife told me they would be playing his interview at the reception held after the interment. It's rather nice to think that I contributed in a small way to the celebration of his life.
--Bridget Poizner
Monday, April 19, 2010
Video Biographies: Four generations of women. One family.
Enthusiasm is contagious. Which is why by the time I concluded my most recent video biography interview with the most amazing 80-something-year-old woman, I felt motivated to seize the day. Have adventures. Wear crazy wigs that flew off when I threw my head back, laughing at a casino in Vegas(!?). With the ultimate goal of turning into a fiesty old woman when my time comes... because really, they're the best kind!
This particular video took a year in the making. Or more accurately, the gift certificate for the package had been acquired a year ago, but it took until last week to convince 'grandma' that she deserved to be in front of the camera, regaling everyone with the crazy stories she had accumulated over a lifetime.
Hearing about the tricks and ambushes involved in rallying grandma to the venue for the interview made me picture a woman who was quiet, kept to herself, and didn't speak much. I couldn't have been more wrong. The minute I stepped through their front door, I could hear her laugh from three rooms away! When I met her, she graciously offered me her hand but by the time I left, she enveloped me in a motherly hug goodbye. Her voice was loud and got your attention. And she was telling me her stories even before the camera was set up. In fact, she even asked me for mine.
Just like I had formed an image of her in my head, she said she had one of me... a 50-year-old, jolly woman of significantly different proportions than those that I displayed... but I think she decided to like me anyway. Because when the interview did begin, she was perfect. Charismatic. Articulate. Candid. And oh so forthcoming. And honest. It takes courage to revisit parts of our lives, and say it how it is - and she was up to that challenge. In fact, when the interview ended and her lovely daughter entered the room, she was surprised by some of the things that came up. And perhaps, more surprised that her mother had called things the way they were.
Present on the day of the interview were four generations of women from the same family. Grandma and her daughter. Grandma's grand-daughter. And great-granddaughter. The oldest being 80+. The youngest 6. And it was obvious to anyone who knew them (even if only for one afternoon), that there existed between them a wonderful bond of love, respect, spontaneity, enthusiasm, and innocent wonder... ingredients perhaps for a good life?
Aditi
This particular video took a year in the making. Or more accurately, the gift certificate for the package had been acquired a year ago, but it took until last week to convince 'grandma' that she deserved to be in front of the camera, regaling everyone with the crazy stories she had accumulated over a lifetime.
Hearing about the tricks and ambushes involved in rallying grandma to the venue for the interview made me picture a woman who was quiet, kept to herself, and didn't speak much. I couldn't have been more wrong. The minute I stepped through their front door, I could hear her laugh from three rooms away! When I met her, she graciously offered me her hand but by the time I left, she enveloped me in a motherly hug goodbye. Her voice was loud and got your attention. And she was telling me her stories even before the camera was set up. In fact, she even asked me for mine.
Just like I had formed an image of her in my head, she said she had one of me... a 50-year-old, jolly woman of significantly different proportions than those that I displayed... but I think she decided to like me anyway. Because when the interview did begin, she was perfect. Charismatic. Articulate. Candid. And oh so forthcoming. And honest. It takes courage to revisit parts of our lives, and say it how it is - and she was up to that challenge. In fact, when the interview ended and her lovely daughter entered the room, she was surprised by some of the things that came up. And perhaps, more surprised that her mother had called things the way they were.
Present on the day of the interview were four generations of women from the same family. Grandma and her daughter. Grandma's grand-daughter. And great-granddaughter. The oldest being 80+. The youngest 6. And it was obvious to anyone who knew them (even if only for one afternoon), that there existed between them a wonderful bond of love, respect, spontaneity, enthusiasm, and innocent wonder... ingredients perhaps for a good life?
Aditi
Monday, March 29, 2010
Video Biography: 'I'd like Mom to go first!'
Last week, I had the opportunity of traveling up to Georgetown, TX for an interview. For people who know just how far (or really, how close) Georgetown is to Austin, this might seem like nothing momentous but to me it was. Because well, every interview is momentous. Plus I like checking off names from maps knowing that that's one less place I've left unexplored. So sorry, there's no bursting my bubble!
I had been commissioned by a gentleman who wished to have both his parents interviewed for their individual, customized video biographies.
"I would like for you to begin with my mother please," he said. "She's come second in a lot of things that have happened in our lives and for once, I want her to come first."
I was touched. No doubt so was she.
When I met her, I found her to be a charming, thoughtful lady... and when she spoke on camera about her family, there reflected pride and love on her face. It wasn't always easy for her to talk about her own life or memories from her childhood (in her own words, she was beginning to find it hard to remember details), but when it was time to talk about the family she had raised with her husband, her face lit up and some very interesting stories came tumbling out.
Were some of these stories ones that no one had ever heard before? A few were, I'm sure of that. But what's more important is that ALL of these stories will become ones that no one ever forgets anymore... not even when the 'details' slip from her own mind. Because they're in a safe place now. In her own voice.
In that precious moment when she came first.
Aditi
I had been commissioned by a gentleman who wished to have both his parents interviewed for their individual, customized video biographies.
"I would like for you to begin with my mother please," he said. "She's come second in a lot of things that have happened in our lives and for once, I want her to come first."
I was touched. No doubt so was she.
When I met her, I found her to be a charming, thoughtful lady... and when she spoke on camera about her family, there reflected pride and love on her face. It wasn't always easy for her to talk about her own life or memories from her childhood (in her own words, she was beginning to find it hard to remember details), but when it was time to talk about the family she had raised with her husband, her face lit up and some very interesting stories came tumbling out.
Were some of these stories ones that no one had ever heard before? A few were, I'm sure of that. But what's more important is that ALL of these stories will become ones that no one ever forgets anymore... not even when the 'details' slip from her own mind. Because they're in a safe place now. In her own voice.
In that precious moment when she came first.
Aditi
