Sundays with Baba
My grandmother and I couldn’t have been raised more differently. I grew up in Los Angeles, was taught to believe in myself, follow my dreams and not allow naysayers to hold me back. My grandmother was raised in Winnipeg, Canada with conservative parents who told her what to do, how to look, and whom to befriend. My adolescence occurred in the 90s, when birth control pills were as widely accessible as Tic Tacs. My grandmother, a teen in the 40s, was admonished for sitting next to a boy at the beach. During my childhood, I’d have characterized our relationship as … non-existent. Yes, I saw her on holidays, birthdays. But she owned a business and traveled the world, had lots of money and very little interest in children touching her things. However, after my grandmother’s second husband died, she began to shed the mask of stoicism she’d worn throughout my life. I was living abroad at the time, so I’d heard rumors, but didn’t have the chance to witness the transformation firsth...