You know you're getting along in years when they start making movies about events that took place in your lifetime. I got such a reality check during a recent sojourn to a local cinema. There were back-to-back trailers of two different movies about the start of the internet. And well, I realized that while I may still vividly remember a time without the worldwide web, to a lot of youngsters that just might seem ridiculous and unimaginable. Fancy that.
In the course of talking with people about their life stories and experiences, conversation inevitably veers toward technology - and the mammoth changes that each new development has brought with it. Some people speak of a time before central heating and cooling, before automobiles became accessible, and before color television made an appearance. Others talk of outhouses, and pickling and preserving fruit and vegetables in anticipation of a long winter.
This got me thinking about the changes that will take place (or have already taken place) in our own lifetimes. What will be the things that we talk about when we reflect on our lives and try to convey a sense of what used to be to our children and grandchildren?
There are bound to be a zillion different things that future generations will gawk at and consider us antiquated for, but one thing that really stands out for me is the act of reading and writing. Or rather, the mediums through which we do so. I grew up at a time when one took notes in class the old-fashioned way - using a paper and pen / pencil. In fact, when I graduated from using a pencil to a real honest-to-goodness ink pen, it was a rite of passage. I still remember my parents gifted me a beautiful, sleek Neptune-blue Parker pen to mark the occasion - turning me into a forever snob when it comes to pens of the ballpoint variety. But I veer away from my point! I grew up at a time when people still wrote... we knew not the modern ways of typing or touch-screens. It was a time when people still read real books - with paper and binding and hardcovers and paperbacks. Not e-books or electronic readers or computer screens. A recent article I read (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=129251016&ft=1&f=1032) cited people predicting the death of physical books as we know them within the next 5 years. I don't look forward to that prospect and suspect that I shall metamorphose into a grumpy old lady stubbornly refusing to give in to the trend when the time comes, but who knows? Am I not here typing away merrily on my trusty notebook while waxing eloquent about the joys of 'real' reading and writing? What amazes me the most however is the ability of time to replace everything familiar with everything new... and that's why sharing stories and life experiences becomes so important.
Aditi
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Video Biographies: A photographic memory
Even if we're not always aware of the fact, each of us has a rich resource of personal archives. Stripped away of the fancy label, personal archives are things we're all very familiar with - photographs, letters, emails, floppy discs, bulky old computers from the '80s, VHS players from the '90s, unwieldy mobile phones from the beginning of the 2000s etc. They're anything that have stood witness to our lives, and that tell tales of their own... of the worlds in which they were born. And with each new invention and each new interest, some of the old have to make way for the new. Leading often times, to a great big mess. What to keep and what to discard? What could I get a few bucks for and what's totally lived its life? And while other objects may often find their way into Neverland, photographs emerge the most resilient form of personal archives... for who could ever show memories the door?
So they remain. In trunks, under the bed, in the attic, on the computer, in albums and on the wall... passed down from one generation to the other, inherited from one to the next... the legacy continues. But wait, what about the stories imprinted on these photographs? Sure I know who the people surrounding my parents in a photograph are, but will my children? Or theirs after them? Or will they be as clueless as I am when I sometimes have the good fortune of encountering some pictures from my grandparents' days?
It's important to label photographs. Make it a point to jot down these 3 things behind every picture - dates, names of the people and the location... it helps to fill in the blanks. My mother (58) recently called to tell me that she had gone to visit her mother (86) a few days ago and saw a picture of her grandmother for the first time that day. She only knew who it was because her mother told her so. And they smiled together at the resemblance they both shared with her. But what would have happened if this photograph had never made it into their conversation last weekend - and the legend never got passed down? We would have probably stared at the photograph uncomprehendingly years later, and who knows, maybe tossed it into the 'to throw' pile because we had no clue who the woman with the enigmatic smile was.
Yes, a lot of our pictures these days are digital. That shouldn't keep us from labeling them! Better yet, be sure to back up those photographs. A sudden virus attack or a technical failure on the part of the computer could instantly make a lifetime of memories disappear. Make prints. If not of all of them, then the ones closest to your heart. And they could be your backup too.
It's easier said than done. Not that it's an impossible task to do so or that this is something earth-shattering that has just been revealed but because it takes time... and it's always easy to put it off. Which is why we've all, at some point or the other, inherited hoards of pictures of 'strangers' and felt the double-edge of that sword. Which is why we need to organize ours even better. So that the next generation will feel closer to ours. And the cycle will continue.
Aditi
So they remain. In trunks, under the bed, in the attic, on the computer, in albums and on the wall... passed down from one generation to the other, inherited from one to the next... the legacy continues. But wait, what about the stories imprinted on these photographs? Sure I know who the people surrounding my parents in a photograph are, but will my children? Or theirs after them? Or will they be as clueless as I am when I sometimes have the good fortune of encountering some pictures from my grandparents' days?
It's important to label photographs. Make it a point to jot down these 3 things behind every picture - dates, names of the people and the location... it helps to fill in the blanks. My mother (58) recently called to tell me that she had gone to visit her mother (86) a few days ago and saw a picture of her grandmother for the first time that day. She only knew who it was because her mother told her so. And they smiled together at the resemblance they both shared with her. But what would have happened if this photograph had never made it into their conversation last weekend - and the legend never got passed down? We would have probably stared at the photograph uncomprehendingly years later, and who knows, maybe tossed it into the 'to throw' pile because we had no clue who the woman with the enigmatic smile was.
Yes, a lot of our pictures these days are digital. That shouldn't keep us from labeling them! Better yet, be sure to back up those photographs. A sudden virus attack or a technical failure on the part of the computer could instantly make a lifetime of memories disappear. Make prints. If not of all of them, then the ones closest to your heart. And they could be your backup too.
It's easier said than done. Not that it's an impossible task to do so or that this is something earth-shattering that has just been revealed but because it takes time... and it's always easy to put it off. Which is why we've all, at some point or the other, inherited hoards of pictures of 'strangers' and felt the double-edge of that sword. Which is why we need to organize ours even better. So that the next generation will feel closer to ours. And the cycle will continue.
Aditi
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Video biographies: Letters from the past
My first experience writing letters was in 1990. I must have been 9 and though that may sound like I was old enough to have been in a mature place at the time, I really wasn't. I was still very much a child and my family had just moved from India to a different country. Those were exciting times. For the first time we had a big house, new furniture, a nice car and a whole new world to explore. But it also meant that we had left behind all our friends and relatives whose presence I had hitherto taken for granted. My mother, determined to make sure that those ties remained unbroken, suggested that my sister and I write letters to our cousins back 'home'.
So we went to a store to pick out some writing paper and eventually settled on powder blue onion skin paper (that would weigh less) and white envelopes. The onion skin was so thin and translucent that a separate white sheet with black lines across the width of it was placed underneath - so as to facilitate sentences that flowed in a straight line. This was exciting stuff! A table was cleared, chairs were pulled up (one for my sister and one for me), pens furnished and the whistle was sounded... let the games begin!
That's when I realized I had no idea what should be written in a letter. I certainly hadn't written one before. More pressing was the need to impress my cousins - with what I'm not sure but they needed to be impressed. But what does one write!! Whilst I deliberated on these musings, my sister (older and wiser than me by 7 whole years) not only finished writing her letter but proceeded to read it out aloud to my mother, who nodded fondly at her first child's wonderful accomplishment.
It sounded like a really silly letter, I thought. Something about us going to school on camels (which despite us now living in a desert city we most certainly did not do in reality), and other such untrue statements but my mother laughed and pronounced it perfect. Interesting. This should have prompted me to churn out some original thoughts on paper about my own experience but what did I do instead? I chose to copy those exact lines on to my letter and eventually reproduced the entire contents of my sister's letter in my handwriting onto my sheet of paper. So that my cousins would receive two identical letters... as well as a sense of deja vu.
All this changed of course as I grew up and went to boarding school. By that time, letters were my passion. Small wonder that since they became the only connection we had with our parents, friends, crushes, penpals and the outside world in general! The postman was the most popular male in school and the biggest thrill was to find a letter on your study table or on your bed or handed to you in person by the matron-in-residence.
Then in 1995, when I was home for the holidays, something happened to turn everything I had known on its head. I was writing a letter to my best friend who lived in a different city, and handed it to my father to send out by post on his way to work the following morning. And he muttered something about the worldwide web. That was when I got my first introduction to the internet and the possibility of letters now being able to reach recipients within minutes... and not days or weeks as I had been accustomed to. Well, that seems excessive, I remember thinking! It was too foreign a concept to appreciate just yet.
Then of course, came chat rooms, instant messaging, Skype, Orkut, Facebook, blogs, mobile phones, Iphones, laptops, ebay... yes, life had changed. But it happened so slowly that I hardly noticed. I marveled at each new invention and the change it brought to my personal life, but the process was so gradual, that life without these things now seems incongruous. Primitive even.
And it took a letter to make me pause and take stock of the situation. A letter written by a cousin brother, so philosophical and poetic in his personality that the internet seemed too impersonal for him to use to write about his first trip abroad... about the wonders of the world that he discovered on his journey. A letter that I could hold in my hand, anticipate the length of it by how heavy it seemed in my palm, the stamps on the envelope that reminded me of the country I was born in... the smells of all the places it had traveled on its way to reaching my mailbox in Austin. A letter in the handwriting of someone close to me... I could see how the words started out big and then grew smaller and smaller as if my cousin brother suddenly realized he had a lot more to say than the paper allowed him. A letter that was peppered with dotted i's and marked t's... and scratched out lines... an actual letter! How old fashioned. How personal. How much like my childhood.
One day, when I sit down to document my own life story, letters will be one thing I mourn the loss of.
Aditi
So we went to a store to pick out some writing paper and eventually settled on powder blue onion skin paper (that would weigh less) and white envelopes. The onion skin was so thin and translucent that a separate white sheet with black lines across the width of it was placed underneath - so as to facilitate sentences that flowed in a straight line. This was exciting stuff! A table was cleared, chairs were pulled up (one for my sister and one for me), pens furnished and the whistle was sounded... let the games begin!
That's when I realized I had no idea what should be written in a letter. I certainly hadn't written one before. More pressing was the need to impress my cousins - with what I'm not sure but they needed to be impressed. But what does one write!! Whilst I deliberated on these musings, my sister (older and wiser than me by 7 whole years) not only finished writing her letter but proceeded to read it out aloud to my mother, who nodded fondly at her first child's wonderful accomplishment.
It sounded like a really silly letter, I thought. Something about us going to school on camels (which despite us now living in a desert city we most certainly did not do in reality), and other such untrue statements but my mother laughed and pronounced it perfect. Interesting. This should have prompted me to churn out some original thoughts on paper about my own experience but what did I do instead? I chose to copy those exact lines on to my letter and eventually reproduced the entire contents of my sister's letter in my handwriting onto my sheet of paper. So that my cousins would receive two identical letters... as well as a sense of deja vu.
All this changed of course as I grew up and went to boarding school. By that time, letters were my passion. Small wonder that since they became the only connection we had with our parents, friends, crushes, penpals and the outside world in general! The postman was the most popular male in school and the biggest thrill was to find a letter on your study table or on your bed or handed to you in person by the matron-in-residence.
Then in 1995, when I was home for the holidays, something happened to turn everything I had known on its head. I was writing a letter to my best friend who lived in a different city, and handed it to my father to send out by post on his way to work the following morning. And he muttered something about the worldwide web. That was when I got my first introduction to the internet and the possibility of letters now being able to reach recipients within minutes... and not days or weeks as I had been accustomed to. Well, that seems excessive, I remember thinking! It was too foreign a concept to appreciate just yet.
Then of course, came chat rooms, instant messaging, Skype, Orkut, Facebook, blogs, mobile phones, Iphones, laptops, ebay... yes, life had changed. But it happened so slowly that I hardly noticed. I marveled at each new invention and the change it brought to my personal life, but the process was so gradual, that life without these things now seems incongruous. Primitive even.
And it took a letter to make me pause and take stock of the situation. A letter written by a cousin brother, so philosophical and poetic in his personality that the internet seemed too impersonal for him to use to write about his first trip abroad... about the wonders of the world that he discovered on his journey. A letter that I could hold in my hand, anticipate the length of it by how heavy it seemed in my palm, the stamps on the envelope that reminded me of the country I was born in... the smells of all the places it had traveled on its way to reaching my mailbox in Austin. A letter in the handwriting of someone close to me... I could see how the words started out big and then grew smaller and smaller as if my cousin brother suddenly realized he had a lot more to say than the paper allowed him. A letter that was peppered with dotted i's and marked t's... and scratched out lines... an actual letter! How old fashioned. How personal. How much like my childhood.
One day, when I sit down to document my own life story, letters will be one thing I mourn the loss of.
Aditi
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Video Biography: "You're running out of time!"
I was invited to make a presentation on preserving family history through video biographies at the Lakeway Lions Club recently, and was very impressed by the keen interest exhibited by the members about the need to do so sooner rather than later. During the question-answer session, someone raised an interesting point.
"What if I want to get my parents' video biography created? Won't they take it as a sign that I think their time is running out... as if I were implying that they aren't going to be around much longer?"
A very pertinent observation - and it's definitely one way of looking at it. But it can also be very flattering. In my experience, whenever people have commissioned a video biography for their parents, the usual reaction is of happiness. It's nice to feel acknowledged... to realize that your life experiences were not in vain. That you're important enough to someone that they wish to immortalize you forever in the best way they know how. So that one day their children, and their children's children after them, will know you for who you are. And hear you tell your story in your own voice, in the way you wish to be remembered.
Aditi
"What if I want to get my parents' video biography created? Won't they take it as a sign that I think their time is running out... as if I were implying that they aren't going to be around much longer?"
A very pertinent observation - and it's definitely one way of looking at it. But it can also be very flattering. In my experience, whenever people have commissioned a video biography for their parents, the usual reaction is of happiness. It's nice to feel acknowledged... to realize that your life experiences were not in vain. That you're important enough to someone that they wish to immortalize you forever in the best way they know how. So that one day their children, and their children's children after them, will know you for who you are. And hear you tell your story in your own voice, in the way you wish to be remembered.
Aditi
Friday, June 25, 2010
Video Biographies: "What's the point?"
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
"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
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
