The best part about the holiday season is celebrating it together with the whole family, from across the many cities, states and countries we otherwise normally reside in. Over the past week, I've had the good fortune of playing Aunt to two young and spunky nephews and one adorable niece. And it's interesting to see how their young minds process familial relationships.
"Did you know that I'm your Daddy's daddy?" asked my father-in-law of his eldest grandchild.
The look of utter astonishment on the young boy's face was priceless. We all fitted in the neat tidy labels he had stuck on us from the time that he could talk. Grandpa. Grandma. Uncle. Aunt. Mom. Dad. But how they connected - or that they connected at all - was too much of a revelation!
It made me think of the first time I found out my mother's mother's real name was not Nani. I must have been around eight, and was in the process of writing out her address on an envelope that would carry my first real letter to her. I was just about to address it to 'Nani' when my mother swooped in at the appropriate moment. At first, I thought it was a joke, and I'm not sure exactly what tipped me off that it wasn't (maybe it was my seven-years-older sister cackling loudly at my apparent ignorance), but once the fact sunk in, I remember feeling oddly foolish. That I did not even know this wonderful, loving and always smiling woman's name.
Years later, I had a similar feeling when my father's mother passed away. I was much older then. But what left me feeling foolish this time around was that though I knew her name and a few other personal details, I didn't know much else about her. Like why she had her name tattooed on to her wrist, or what was it like to be a police officer's wife, or what was it like to have her youngest sister be born in the same year that she had had her first child?
My nephew will have his turn in figuring out the essentials. Learning what's important and what's not. I just hope we do a better job of filling in the blanks.
The holiday season sure is a time for family. Past. Present. And new. :)
Aditi
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Preaching What I Practice
I have always emphasized how meaningful video biographies can be for families after a loved one has passed away. I’m made aware of that all of the time when I receive notes from clients who notify me of the death of someone they had me interview and how the recording is a consolation for them. Recently, with the death of my own mother, I am personally experiencing this kind of significance since over the last few years I conducted several interviews of her sharing stories as well as her personal philosophy.
With the holiday season here, I strongly suggest that you try and record some of your family’s interactions and stories. It probably won’t be until years later that you will fully appreciate that you made the effort to do so.
Bridget Poizner
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Video Biographies: When others tell your story...
At a recent awards ceremony in Austin, I was privileged to find myself in the midst of a remarkable group of people, honoring a gentleman not only for his professional contribution - but also for the valuable lessons they've learned about themselves and about life through their interactions with him. Here's how he began his acceptance speech:
"I feel truly blessed to be alive to watch and participate in this event - and to hear such wonderful people say such wonderful things about me. The only other time everyone comes together for something like this is at a funeral... so I feel truly blessed to be alive!"
And of course, we all laughed. But it also struck a chord. Why is it that we wait till the end to convey to someone just how important they are to us? Though I was there primarily to record the event, the video has evolved into a touching tribute, with the honoree's colleagues taking to the microphone and reminiscing over an association that sometimes spanned a few years and sometimes a few decades... to share their mutual love and respect for someone they admire. Sometimes personal biographies are best told through the words of others.
Aditi
"I feel truly blessed to be alive to watch and participate in this event - and to hear such wonderful people say such wonderful things about me. The only other time everyone comes together for something like this is at a funeral... so I feel truly blessed to be alive!"
And of course, we all laughed. But it also struck a chord. Why is it that we wait till the end to convey to someone just how important they are to us? Though I was there primarily to record the event, the video has evolved into a touching tribute, with the honoree's colleagues taking to the microphone and reminiscing over an association that sometimes spanned a few years and sometimes a few decades... to share their mutual love and respect for someone they admire. Sometimes personal biographies are best told through the words of others.
Aditi
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The Power of Video
After I conduct interviews and I start the editing process, I am always struck with how effectively video captures the personality as well as the stories of my client. Along with the family history, the gestures, laugh, twinkle in the eye and sometimes an occasional tear are there to be shared with the viewer. And when the interview is a joint one between a couple or a group of siblings, their interaction deepens the experience even further.
All of my interviews are confidential, but this couple kindly agreed to let this clip be shared. I think it's a great illustration of how meaningful a video interview can be.
--Bridget Poizner
All of my interviews are confidential, but this couple kindly agreed to let this clip be shared. I think it's a great illustration of how meaningful a video interview can be.
--Bridget Poizner
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Video Biographies: The new face of the 3R's?
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
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
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
