Inside Ellie's Head

Living a Long Healthy Life

My grandfather was well in his 90s when he passed away. Even in the last months, he could remember perfectly the phone numbers of all his 10 children (even the one in still living in Iran), and a number of his grand children and great grand children. He knew the addresses of all his countless homes in Iran and in the US. He knew the dates of his world travels, and his sense of humor was still intact... I never thought that he would ever pass away, he was so alive and lively. 

For a great number of years, he exercised every day - he took a brisk 2-hour walk in the mornings and spent about 30 minutes of a stationary bike which he kept in his garage before bedtime. He showered and shaved every day, and ate home cooked healthy meals. 

I was reminded of him when I saw this Iranian gentleman celebrating his 102nd birthday. 

Generation Tehran

If you have a few minutes to learn a little bit more about the thousands of young people in Iran, what motivates them, what they think of freedom, what they think of America, and what challenges they face everyday, watch this short film... It's a great investment of your time and you won't regret it. 

 

Touched

Death touches us all in life.

Life touches us in death.

Is there a word for someone who loves being alive? "I can control my heart with my mind." he used to say. His heart was weak, his mind strong. Until the very end. The medication weakened his mind, made him forget my face along with his daughters. There was no chance for his heart.

When were you first touched by death?

He used to tell me stories of men who had long since been dead and lived on only in his memories, in his stories, and now in the video tapes that I took while he talked. There is such joy and such sadness in remembering a friend who is no longer alive. The good old days.

I remember my mother speaking at her mother's funeral. Such tenderness in her voice. How could we not cry. The first death she ever witnessed was her own sisters almost a decade earlier. Then another sister, then a mother, now a father.

There is life in death. Waiting to be nurtured and resurrected. We live on with pieces of our dead flowing through our veins, influencing our thoughts, cheering us on.

The bearer of bad news

If you had to hear that someone you loved has died, whom would you designate to be the messenger? Who would you want to hear the new from? How would you want them to word it? Should they ask you to sit down first? Or do you prefer them to just blurt it out?

For the last few months, every time I'd see the phone numbers of those closest to me flash on my call waiting, I automatically and instantly prepared myself for bad news. I'd pick up the phone listening first to the tone of the voice on the other end for clues. Every phone conversation that didn't include the words grandfather and death in the same sentence was a small victory and a tremendous relief.

There is nothing quite as jolting as being caught off guard. The house phone rang. I picked it up, an act that is already out of character for me.
"Alo." I said in a very persian way.
"Hi. I just wanted to give you my condolences."
"For what?"
"Oh you don't know..."
That was a cousin I had not spoke to in a year. Someone I have not interacted with for more than 30 minutes in the past five years.

But what do I do with this information?

These past few days, there was no recognition in his eyes when he looked at me. Perhaps a walk on the beach will help me clear the clutter of emotions and memories that is accumulating in my throat.

One thing is certain: He will be missed greatly.

Tired of Sleeping

There is no doubt about it that he is ill.

He sleeps a great deal these days. It's the medication. Last night he kept wanting to get up as though trying to sleep walk except he can't really walk.

"Grandpa, where you going?" His legs dangling off the side of the bed, his arms shaking, struggling to sit up.
"I don't know." His eyes are glassy, his bottom lip curled in. He looks so old.

Then he'd fall asleep again. We had this same exchange three times. And once he said: "How much longer do I have to sleep?" before falling asleep again. There is no fighting the medication. I'd be tired of sleeping too.

A few days ago, he opened his eyes and asked me why all the women had their arms up in the air. This was day time and he kept dozing off. The medication makes him sleepy. But when he's awake his sense of humor is in tact.
I said: "I don't know. Why do they have their arms up?"
"They are praying."
"Praying for whom?"
"They are praying for themselves."

Then I thought I'd be funny: "Well, you know? There is really two things that women do best. Praying and cooking." Referring of course to my grandmother who was the best cook I've ever known before she passed away only two years ago after 72 years of marriage, 11 children.

"Yea." He said, barely smiling but definitely trying to, "But they learn to pray much faster."
"Did my grandmother know how to cook when she married you?"
"She couldn't even make rice." She was barely 16 when they got married. He was 17 and a self-made business man by then having own a tobacco shop and divorced his first wife of two years only a year earlier. I guess they started early back in his day.
"I taught her everything she knew about cooking." He makes me laugh.

I had to follow it up. He enjoys talking when he has the energy. "So if you taught her how to cook, what did she teach you?"
"Your grandmother has taught me many things." His eyes are glassy again. Does it pain him to think of her? "The problem is, she didn't know any of it either when she was teaching it to me."

I like holding his hands in mine.

Today I am Alive

There are many more beauties in the world than there are foes. I am convinced of this.

Today, I run like a maniac just to feel the wind against my cheeks. I let my 3-year-old niece tangle my hair and fake cut it. I stick my bare feet in the icy ocean and feel my skin tingle. I call a friend just to say: "I'm glad to have you in my life." I dance down the stairs to get water. I get tears in my eyes when I see a couple in love. I smile for no reason. I notice the tiniest flowers growing in the bushes.

Today, I am alive and well. I take comfort knowing that I am surrounded by beauty, passion, and compassion.

Mortified: Angst Written

Have you read your journals and diaries from your teen years lately? Bring them out! What will you find? And once you've had a good laugh, bring it to a Mortified event and let the angst-filled recourse of your daily teenage struggles evaporated in the laughter of dozens of strangers.

It's not so bad what you went through. Not after so many years. And besides, you've turned out alright. Right?!

To find upcoming events and locations visit their website and Get Mortified!

Being Alive and in Good Health

People are more health-conscious that we think. I kept a log in my head for the last week or so. I haven't run into a single person who isn't making an effort to live a healthier life. As diverse as we are, so are our life styles. So my effort to be healthy might be more intense and more flimsy than somebody else's. But it's an effort, non the less.

I was surprised by the amount of knowledge that some of my readers had. Granted they emailed me directly with their insights instead of posting their comments for the benefit of all future readers... I enjoyed reading them.

But can good health be a curse also. I see my grandfather, who at the age of 94, would like nothing more than to join his wife of over 70 years in the after life. Or is it to live that he wants? He goes back and forth. When he was young, my age perhaps, probably much younger, he'd walk outside every morning, break the ice that had formed over their small outdoor pool, and take a dip. Ice water! He says it made his body strong.

Even until a few short years ago when his body started literally falling apart, he'd wake up at the crack of dawn, walk for two hours, take an icy cold shower, have breakfast and take a nap before starting his day. Then at night, he'd bike for about an hour on a stationary bike before heading to bed.

It is hard for me to see him so frail. I've never thought of him as old and now he's melting and blending into his hospital sheets... His curse is also his photographic memory, his ability to tell me a distant relative's phone number off the top of his head, the fact that he remembers what street his cousins and friends lived on when they were boys or how much a pound of apples was when he went to the store last month. His mind is intact; his body is not.

I asked him a few days ago if he was feeling alright. I sensed sadness in his eyes which is an unusual emotion for him. He is often full of life and humor. They were taking him from his room to a different part of the hospital to take a chest x-ray. He responded with a story. He said: "A man fell into a well and started crying out for help. Another man heard his cries, looked down and said: 'Hey, can you wait there for a few minutes while I find a rope?' The man inside the well responded: 'Well, what other choice do I have?'"

Well... what other choice... I felt he was disappointed. Less than 24 hours ago, his heart had stopped for a few seconds and the doctors were able to bring him back. It may be that he wants to go at times, but I think it is his will to live that has kept him here.

Ultimately, it is a blessing to be alive!

Shower the Bride... with Love and all

Bridal showers are a strange concept in the Persian culture. Many mothers, grand mothers, aunts, sisters, and cousins are still trying to wrap their head around it. A party, just for the bride, bring gifts, some games, bring a recipe, write down a memory, WHAT?!

Traditionally, the Iranian wedding tasks are divided as such:

The bride's family will provide all the necessities of life for the newly weds. Her mother will start knitting, sewing, buying, and collecting, all that the young couple may need from bedding to clothes to appliances. If you travel far enough backwards into history, you'll find that the bride's parents might even give the bride and the groom a room in their own home to live in. So the kids get married, they have kids, and the grandparents are right there to help.

The groom's family in turn pays for the wedding. That is of course after he has brought with him money, property, and goods to exchange for her hand in marriage. There is also a dower set up, just in case he leaves her or dies.

There are no showers, no gathering of the women who would like to present the bride with gifts in addition to their love, no day of games and trying to figure out who knows her the best and who has a better memory, and certainly no party favors.

But the days of traditional marriages and family roles are long gone. Today, my sister pays for her own wedding and my very persian cousin has a very non-persian bridal shower.

There is no doubt that the lines that separate cultures, traditions, and histories are becoming blurred. As I listen to a room of many different accents speaking one unifying language, I am glad to be here, in America, at this time in our global history where I can learn and participate in a completely new tradition. One as simple and as strange as a bridal shower.