Have you ever read an obituary or been to a memorial service and been moved by the tributes paid to friends, family, and loved ones? These are some of the most beautiful, thoughtfully articulated messages of gratitude about a person’s impact on the lives of their loved ones. Yet, the person whose rich life is being celebrated often doesn’t get to hear, enjoy, and cherish their impact. These ruminations along with ongoing conversations with my dear friend Suzanne (who is battling Stage 4 cancer) propelled me to write notes of gratitude to ten women who enabled my life as an immigrant. Why Wait for Eulogies chronicles my experience in this journey and my witnessing first-hand how the expression of gratitude spills joy many times over. In doing so, I’m urging people to celebrate love and friendship; to take the time to express gratitude to the people that matter in big ways and small, before it is too late. Why Wait for Eulogies is ultimately a joyful celebration of friendship, love, gratitude, and powerful themes that unite each of us.
It is quite a disservice to any museum, but especially one as rich (defining rich here not just by the collections, but the thinking that went into the design) as the San Francisco MOMA to pick just a few things as highlights. Isn’t beauty in the eyes of the beholder? What holds appeal to me may not be “the” thing that attracts another person. However, given that this was love at first sight, I can’t help but gush about a few things that struck me. So here in no particular order, is a photo essay (with captions) capturing how the SF MOMA wooed me over.
Pick up all you need to know about the SF MOMA here.
Monday was a dark day in our family. Our beloved DeLonghi Perfecta Espresso Machine refused to be part of our lives. How can the central glue to our existence for the last 3.5 years give up on us without a fight? The Esc Ok lights came on. Multiple attempts at resets and revival failed and one of the greatest joys of our life just left us cold. We could not start our days with our special cappuccinos; we could not come home to our lovingly brewed espressos. I looked longingly at the machine, hoping my love would resurrect it, but that was not meant to be.
Just in case any of you is thinking of me as a drama queen, let me walk you through the journey we embarked on 40 months ago. Williams Sonoma had just advertised the upscale Perfecta machine on sale. A $1,300 machine was available for a steal for as long as supplies lasted. I called every Williams Sonoma within a 60 mile radius and each one was sold out within minutes. And then lady luck showered her blessings. A store 80 miles away had one in stock and they could ship one to me.
From that moment, the DeLonghi Perfecta became a pivotal glue in our lives. Each day, the coffee it brewed permeated our senses filling us with joy and contentment. The reputation of our new household member spread quickly to family and friends. Visitors started arriving to partake in the brew. Teenagers congregated for hours on end to get their exotic coffees without spending a dime. Adults lingered for hours enriching our home with laughter and good vibes. Pretty soon, every moment of happiness and sadness was intertwined with endless cups of good coffee.
And then the end…it was so sudden. So unanticipated. Of course, a resurrection maybe possible for a fee – We will have to ship the entire unit to a service center to get an estimate which could cost me dearly.
Despite feeling like a bit of a traitor, we ordered a smaller DeLonghi machine. It came, it occupied a little corner in our kitchen and brewed us our first cups of cappuccino this evening. But, it cannot hold a candle to the grandeur, the scale, the taste and the impact exuded by our Perfecta.
The condolences are pouring in from all those who congregated with it. The outpour is amazing. And the verdict is unanimous – we cannot go back to a life without the Perfecta. It needs to come back into our lives and fill it with more love, joy and endless, amazing caffeine filled journeys.