I am a vegetarian because I have always been one.  My parents never prepared any meat.  Milk, eggs, and yoghurt were plenty growing up but not flesh of any animal.  So, naturally, I learnt to cook and eat vegetarian food.

In the US, I realize vegetarians run the gamut : vegans, lacto-ovo vegetarians, vegetarians who eat fish, vegetarians whose only ‘meat’ comes from chicken and finally the “I am a vegetarian except I indulge in steak once in a while”-ians.  It does get confusing when you add nut-free, gluten-free, lactose-free descriptions into your vocabulary.

Traveling is hard with dietary restrictions.  The major cities are very agreeable – vegetarianism is almost a fad there.  But try entering the “real America” and you are in for a shock.  Last Spring, we drove from Atlanta to Orlando on I-75.  It’s about an 7 hour trip.  We were hard pressed to find a restaurant let alone one that served vegetarian.  We stopped at a “breakfast” restaurant.  Even their menu seemed like it was dripping lard!  Most of the time, you are left with a plain salad to eat while the others chomp on their meaty meals.

Then there are awkward moments when you tell a host that you are a vegetarian, and they come back with “I’m glad I didn’t make steak!  We are having turkey for dinner.”  You smile politely, play with the food and eat what you can.  And then fill up on dessert to please the hosts!

Some people rave about fish.  I have tried fish and frankly, it tastes like a flaky tofu – no offense.  And then there are those who pity you because “there is nothing like sinking your teeth into a juicy piece of meat”.  It’s like if a cannibal were to tell you, “Hey, ever tried the well done thighs of a human.  It’s heaven!”, would you be inclined to try human flesh?  Legalities aside, if your societal moral compass dictated that eating human being is repulsive, then chances are, you are going to be repulsed to even try it.  I grew up in a society that justified being a vegetarian because “you shouldn’t derive pleasure from someone else’s pain especially when there are other options”.  So, eating meat is not an option for me.

The hardest part though is cooking.  I envy meat eaters whose mealtime preparations take maybe an hour.  Vegetarian meals take hours to cook, plan and prepare.  This may be the only convincing reason for me to turn to meat.

People who believe it is a privilege are afraid that they will end up paying for someone else’ healthcare leading to a socialistic system with the public option.  But we already are.  When someone goes to the emergency room for non-emergency medical issues that has now evolved into an urgent medical condition, we all pay.  The government already has a clause in place that makes the hospitals take care of emergencies whether the person has insurance or not.  People without adequate health insurance who have mental health issues and substance abuse end up in emergency rooms.  We all pay a lot in these circumstances.

People have likened healthcare to a house.  The government doesn’t owe you a house.  In a similar vein, the government doesn’t owe you healthcare.  If you don’t own a house, you can rent one, move-in with parents, move out of town, live with relatives and friends, go to a shelter and in the worst care, be on the streets.  But you can still have a job, earn an income and work to earn the right to live in a house.

If healthcare is a privilege and you don’t have healthcare and get an illness where you can’t afford to see a doctor, then it takes longer to get cured and possibly transforms into a life or death situation.  It must be heart-wrenching to know that you or your loved one has an illness that can be cured but because of you aren’t wealthy enough, you don’t deserve the privilege to save yourself or your loved one.  Its like saying, “I know you are in deep waters but you didn’t have the money to pay for the life-jackets that could save you.”.

If healthcare is a privilege and you have decided not to have healthcare, then all is well as long as you are healthy.  With anything more serious than a cold or cough, you are in trouble.  Fractures, stitches, pregnancies, and other benign but urgent care situations can be expensive.  In the age of swine flu, what if a person contracts swine flu and doesn’t have the money to go to a doctor?  They live amongst us spreading it.

Nobody wants to be without healthcare.  It is generally a financial situation that hinders someone from getting adequate healthcare.  It is morally abhorrent for a wealthy nation such as ours to deny the weak and the poor amongst us to adequate healthcare.

Yes, I believe it a right.

First, a pocket gopher (I am inferring from the mounds of soil left around) dug near its root.  This caused the poor plant to lean considerably.  I left it to die as I wrongly assumed that it was a lost cause.  It survived.  Its one hardy plant, I thought.

Leaning away from the wall

The small sprouts had started coming from its nodes and I salivated with a stir-fry pan ready to cook.

This morning to my dismay I found the top of the plant covered with small aphids.  Aahhh!!!  All my labor going to a naught!

Covered with aphids

I have a couple of ideas before I give my plant the hook.  I read on the web that cornmeal may do the trick.  I applied the cornmeal to the soil near the plant.

Next, I gave the plant an old-fashioned Indian treatment.  Nothing that a dose of chilli pepper and turmeric can’t cure – or so I hope.  I mixed a liberal amount of crushed chili pepper, turmeric with water.  I also added a little bit of the dishwashing liquid.  It seems to be a handy tool for organic gardeners.  I then bathed my plant (I didn’t have a spray bottle) in this liquid.

After the Indian treatment bath

2 weeks later, you can still see the ravages of the aphids but the plant is definitely recovered!  Yoohoo!

The plant is in remission!

Now I wait with crossed fingers and a stir-fry pan ready …

First, there are the pumpkins.  A pumpkin for each person in the family would make you cheaper by $40 at least.  Then there are the carving tools – a set for each child.  That’s another $12-$18.

Decorations for Halloween are another big ticket item.  These are our children’s favorite part of Halloween.  A half-man crawling on the floor snarling,”Pick off your dog’s doo.  Some people have to crawl here”, a howling face, skeletal garlands, window stickers, scarecrow, pumpkin lights, cobwebs … the list is as long as for Christmas decorations.

Then comes the the most expensive part of Halloween.  The so-last-year’s costume can run you $10.  But if you want the cool costume of the year and you buy it when the season starts (which gets earlier each year), then you have to shell out at least $30.

Don’t discount the candies that you have to give out.  These teeth-rotting, sugar high, nutritionally zero garbage food that we give out to costumed children can run you another $15.

By  now you must think that I hate Halloween.  I don’t.  I love it.  We as a family decided to spend our money on pumpkins (I use the innards in food) and decorations.  Costumes consist of cloaks and other interesting clothing with face paint.  And we all go out as a family trick-or-treating.

In the elementary school that my children attend in the US, the parents give money at the beginning of the school year which is used to buy cheap craft supplies for the various holiday celebrations.  The celebration of any holiday involves using these craft supplies to make something relevant to that holiday.  The money is also used to buy cupcakes, cookies, fruits and vegetables for the parties.  The parents are also solicited for more food.  By the end of the party, the class room is a filled with food, craft work, parents and children high on sugar.  There is generally so much food at the end of the party that parents ask each other to take the rest of the food away or leave them at the teacher’s lounge.

I am not against the crafts.  The kids can make crafts using just colored paper, crayons, color pencils, glue, and their imagination.  I object to what I perceive as pandering to the children.  The children don’t ask for art supplies.  We give them before they have a need for it.  They don’t ask for so much food.  Grapes, graham crackers and cheese sticks will be just fine.  But we overdo it with the varieties of food.  So much gets wasted.  The craft work eventually lands in the garbage.  How many craft work can you save of your child’s?

Parties at school are unnecessary in these days of economic difficulties.  But try telling the room parent that you don’t care for any parties in the class…

Our children have known this car all their lives. They have got used to it like you get used to the quirks of your relatives.  But our children’s friends noticed that this car wasn’t like any other they know.

1988 Honda Civic

When I painfully went to open every door, one of their friends helpfully suggested, “Why don’t you click all the doors open?”  ”Well, because I can’t.  They didn’t make those clickers until 10 years after this car was born.”, I said to a bemused child.  They also don’t have this concept of “lock your doors” as you leave the car because they expect me to do it with my remote.

In this electronic age when children think they are smarter with gadgets than their parents, another confused child asked me how to open the window.  I pointed to the lever.  He started to press various parts of the lever to open the window.  When I showed him how to crank the lever, it was like magic to him!  All the children played with the levers the whole way to school.  Of course, I had to remind all the children to close the window and lock the door before they got out otherwise I’d have to laboriously close each window and door of the car.

My least favorite feature of this car is that the trunk cannot be opened from inside the car.  Only the key opens it.  I guess they designed it that way for security of the trunk but didn’t carpool moms complain about it?  Popping the trunk from the driver’s seat is my all-time favorite feature of the newer cars especially on rainy days.

What makes driving this car difficult is that it doesn’t have power steering.  Power steering didn’t come standard with the car “in those days”.  Consequently, I struggle with 3 point turns, U-turns and parallel parking.  To the children, I appear to be weak.  ”My mom does it with no effort”, one child quipped.

The car came with an AM/FM radio and a tape deck.  A tape deck has since been destroyed by a tape left inside the tape deck that melted on a really hot day.  The FM has stopped working as well.  It is truly a bare-bones car.  When the children gripe that the car doesn’t have an iPod jack, CD player, remote clicker, my indignant retort is “That is because it is a vintage car”.

But then, when I hear them use “vintage” with something that belonged to my youth, I realize I have become my dad.

My mother was married at 14 and was the primary caregiver for 3 children by the time she was 21.  She has a middle-school education, was never financially independent and has never worked outside of home.  She vowed that she would give a better life to her 2 girls and made sure that we were educated and knew what marriage was before we got married.  She accomplished both those goals.

Fast forward to my life,  I have 2 Masters Degrees from 2 different IITs and a Ph.D. in Computer Science.  I worked until our 3rd child was born.  Now, I am a homemaker with 3 children going to 3 different public schools.  At this point I feel my life isn’t much different than my mother’s.

When I worked 45 miles away from home, it somehow still fell to me to take care of the home – cleaning, laundry, cooking, grocery shopping.  My husband helped me but the responsibility was always mine.  Feminism gave the women the right to do man’s work as well. When our 3rd child was born, I couldn’t keep up the work on both fronts and I decided to stay home.

There are times when I get frustrated with my humdrum life.  There is always a never-ending list of jobs to be done: laundry, cooking, cleaning, mending, shopping.  You can never say, “Ha! The laundry project is done.  I can move on to a different project.”  because you’ll have to do it again soon.  So, what did feminism give me?

It gave me the opportunity to travel.  I came to the US to get a Ph.D.  That gave me the financial independence which led me to my future husband.  My husband appreciates that I take an equal interest in our investments and seeks my input on major decisions.  In other words, I am an equal partner in our marriage in a way my mother never was.  You can’t be unless you are financially independent.

That is possibly a reason the divorce rate is much higher in America than in India.  Indian women (barring a few) are not financially independent from their husbands.  Even if the wife makes more than the husband, a divorce hurts the woman more than a man.  He could probably make a life with another woman but questions will be raised about the divorcee’s ‘values’.  Consequently, the woman stays with a man even if she is not happy.

So, what does feminism give woman – CHOICE.  The choice to stay married, choice to work outside the home, choice to be a homemaker.  It also gives the husband a strong, educated woman who can take care of the family financially, if need arises.  All we need now is masculinism (I just made it up!) to give the man the right to do the housework without losing the masculinity.

But I hate the idea of bicyclists ‘sharing’ the road with 2000 pound vehicles.  Its asking for disaster.  Recently, I heard about a few bicycle accidents (couple of them fatal) on the road that jarred me.  One truck driver didn’t even realize that he had hit a bicyclist!  Is that the truck driver’s fault or the bicyclist’s?

When I am driving, I am always on the lookout for bicyclists.  Some of them are dangerous.  They weave in and out of traffic.  They are much smaller compared to the huge vehicles on the road and not easy to spot.  In any accident, the bicyclist stands to lose more than the driver.  It behooves them to pay deference to the vehicles on the road.  But they leave the onus of their safety to the drivers of big vehicles.

From a bicyclist’s point of view, they want to share the road.  They would rather use a bicycle to commute (say) than drive.  But putting them along with these behemoths that we call vehicles is like putting a crawling baby in the Boston Marathon.  They may get run over.  Who is to blame then?  The laws that allow the bicyclists to share the road is to blame.

Whenever I ride my bicycle, I go on the sidewalk.  Yes, I know it is unlawful.  But I am not willing to risk my life ‘sharing’ the road with fast moving vehicular traffic.

How about we ‘share’ the sidewalk with pedestrians?  Yes, accidents may happen but fatal collisions will be rare.  Anyway, other than big cities like NYC, sidewalks are hardly used.  But bicyclists may not like it because you can’t go fast on a sidewalk.

But then, I’d rather be slow than dead or maimed.

Uncle Tom's trail

Yellowstone National Park was all it that it was hyped to be.  Vast, breathtaking, awesome.  Yellowstone has a Grand Canyon (really!) that lives up to its name.  Yellowstone area is the caldera of the still simmering volcano underneath.  The hills around are like baked potato being baked from under by the volcanic heat.  The Yellowstone river that flows through this area is literally washing away these soft hills thus forming this canyon.  There are signs everywhere warning of dangerous ground.  So, follow all signs and do not go over any of the railings as they can give away.

Upper Falls

Uncle Tom's trail information

There are 2 places where the Yellowstone river becomes a fall; upper and lower falls.  You can view the upper falls from next to it.  You have to hike down to the canyon to view the lower falls from below.

The hike into the canyon is through a set of metal stairs called the Uncle Tom’s trail.  400 steps lead you down to the canyon.  It is a very steep climb down – frequent rests are advised.  It was a little unnerving for me to see these metal steps were secured by posts into the hills that were called “Baked potato” by the ranger.  If you think the hike up and down these stairs are bad, think of the ladies in the early days of this National Park doing this climb in layers of skirts on a rope ladder!

This trail was hard for me as I am afraid of heights.  It is also very strenuous.  Oddly enough, children do just fine – at least in my experience.

Grand Geyser

Old Faithful

The famed “Old Faithful” is predictable as the name suggests.  You get to view it from quite a distance.  If you have the time, a better geyser to see is the Grand Geyser.  It erupts every hour and a half but you can view it from up close.  When it erupts, its warm sprays will reach you.  And it is much more grand than the Old Faithful.

There is generally a large crowd waiting for the Old Faithful.  But the Grand Geyser erupts without fanfare.

Pearl Geyser

Monarch Geyser

There are plenty of smaller geysers.  The most enjoyable one for our children was the toilet geyser that sounds like a toilet being flushed when it drain after the eruption!  Remember to walk on boardwalks and not step into any of these thermal areas.  You can be scalded or seriously burnt.

Check out the Minerva Terrace in the North of the Park.  The colors on this terrace are a treat.  Walk along the Yellowstone river  to see salmon going upstream.  Keep a watchful eye for bears.  Where there is salmon, there could be bears.

Minerva Terrace

Buffaloes

There are many buffaloes in the park and bear sightings are not uncommon.  When you see a bear, or a bear cub, do not get out of the car and try to take that fabulous shot.  You could be endangering yourself.

Being in an interracial marriage myself, I can attest to the fact that I am quite happy and my children seem to be well adjusted.  Our success maybe attributed to us living in a very multicultural region of the country where questions such as, “How did your parents react to your choice?” don’t follow introductions.

Acceptance by the immediate and extended family, though important, is not necessary for a successful marriage.  Marriage is between two committed individuals.  Their commitment to each other dictates the course of their marriage.  America has a high rate of divorce and most of them, I think, are intra-racial.  Can we deduce that intra-racial marriages are bound to fail?

My husband is a Caucasian and I am an Indian-American.  We were married by a black minister in Las Vegas.  In the Louisiana Judge’s view, our marriage was bound to fail.  We have been married now for 16 years and still going strong.

As far as our children are concerned, both our sides dote on them.  In my experience, I have noticed that the parents/families may not be thrilled with their child’s choice for spouse, but once the children arrive, all is forgiven and forgotten.  Children have a way of making peace between adults.

I believe, inter-racial marriages promote tolerance.  Indians have long held the belief that Americans (especially Caucasians) are promiscuous.  My family’s opinion about that has changed because of my marriage.  When races mix, the families mix.  And consequently, instead of seeing someone of a different race in a stereotypical manner, you have a more personal stake in protecting one of your own family member.