The Sweet Spot

“When you do common things in your life in an uncommon way, you will command the attention of the world”, said teacher, inventor, agriculture-scientist, botanist, nature-lover and my sustainability hero, Dr. George Washington Carver . An early proponent of composting, he said “Waste is man-made; nature produces no waste; whatever is consumed is returned to the whole in a reusable form. Man fails to utilize appropriately the bounty of nature”. While I am inspired by his words, work and philosophy of life, I started small, by doing common things in a common way. Such as separating my kitchen and organic waste in a separate bin than my trash bin.  We got a smell free, rust free, indoor composting pail with charcoal filters (there are other options). Instead of dumping kitchen and food scraps in with the regular trash, it was easy enough to separate it into this pail. We were already separating recyclables, so separating the wet waste reduced our trash to ¼ of the original, and much lighte

It has done one round around the sun and “the Sweet Spot” has survived its first year. Now that the blog has survived one year, I thought it would be interesting to invoke my natural inclination to put the results in numbers. As Kai Ryssdal , the host of the award-winning radio show Marketplace would say, “ Let’s do the numbers ”.  This is the 40th blog post on “the Sweet Spot”. Blog analysts say blogs are known to gain traction once they reach 25 posts, with an average increase in readership by 30% after that. On my blog, I started seeing an upward trend around the 18th post, and saw a 50% increase in my readership beyond that point. My data does not include the readers who have subscribed via email to read at their leisure, or readers I know have bookmarked the site url and can get to the latest post via the homepage. I attribute the higher increase in readership due to increased shares, with each “share” contributing about a 5% increase. There is a concept of compounding blog posts,

“...Family is my uncles, my aunts, and my chithis”, as Senator Kamala Harris said in the acceptance speech for her Vice Presidential nomination. Whatever is this “Chithi”? The word, which in Tamil means younger aunt, became viral and reminded me of my own cultural reckoning when my children were younger. “Is it ok if I call Tom’s Mom Pam Aunty?”, my younger one asked about her best friend. Before I could reply, my older one interjected, a little irritated. “Well, you can’t. She isn’t Indian. And by the way Mom, I am not going to call Ruchi Aunty that anymore. It was weird when my teacher asked me if she was your sister or Dad’s, and I said neither.”  I call this the cross-cultural dilemma. It is one of many woes that children of Indian origin face while being raised in the US, when they are required to apply a cultural trait in a culturally-unaware setting. In the Indian culture, “Aunty” is anyone who feels like an Aunt. She doesn’t have to be family. She can be a family friend, Mom’s

I wrote my first blog post one year ago about my daughter’s gap year and her experience in Iowa. This was when the clouds of “gap year” confoundment were starting to disperse from my mind. When the notion, which was originally vague at best was clearing up; when the concept of a gap year was finally sinking in. I wrote about my daughter’s experiences and mine at about half way into her gap year, when things had started making sense. I also want to address and share about the time when it all started on shaky grounds. In our desire to be model parents, ironically, we had lost connection with our daughter’s desire to live her life in her way. So, when in the middle of her senior year, she expressed a desire to take a gap year, we thought it was a phase. She had a choice of half a dozen colleges to pick from and admitted to at least one college she liked very much - now, wasn’t the next step to attend that college? As the academic year progressed, she continued to bring “gap year” up eve

Growing up under the shade of my super talented artistic brother, I had an elusive relationship with art. I was immensely proud of the cascade of applause, awards and accolades my brother received, including one from Shankar’s Weekly International straight from the hands of the Indian President himself. Not wanting to be left behind, I gave art a fair shot - but we were not meant to be! My subject would be very clear in my head, but by the time it traveled down to my hand and fingers and onto the paper, I ended up having to call it modern art and leave it to the viewer’s imagination and interpretation to figure out what I drew. I think I did end up developing a very important skill, that of an art critic. There was enough art around the house to appreciate. And it was fairly easy to look at a piece, reflect and express with honesty my true feelings for the piece. A few years ago, some artist friends formed an Art Club. Given my history with art, I avoided the messages to join. Well, wh