I'll Have The Curry.

I’ve been a musician for 25 years, even more, if you count those elementary school lessons on the recorder.  At the end of my 4 th grade year, Ms. Heinze, the Churchill High School orchestra director, came to my elementary school to recruit new players for her after school beginner string program. I walked timidly into the music room, not sure what to expect. Instruments lined the room for us to hold and try on.  Which instrument should I pick?  What’s that huge one in the corner? The bass? There’s no way I, a 10-year-old, was going to physically be able cart that huge instrument to and from lessons.  Pass.  What about the cello? Tempting. I could sit down and play. But then I tried picturing myself getting a cello on and off the school bus.  Not going to happen.  I made my way to the table where the smaller instruments were. I bypassed the table with the violas on it, because even at a young age, I had the foresight to know I did not want to play the viola. I

For centuries, families have been gathering at dinner tables, in living rooms, around campfires, and in caves to share stories of their family’s origins.  Our stories give us a context to who we are, how we see ourselves, and how we see the world. When a young child learns about the struggles her grandparent endured during the great depression, she can be proud of how her family overcame hardship. At the same time, learning the dark truths about a family’s slave owning past can muddy someone’s perception of who they are? Learning the truth of our family heritage is all the rage right now.  Modern technology has made it easy to find out a family’s genetic genealogy, even as elders pass away and stories leave with them. For ninety-nine dollars, plus shipping and handling, you, too, can spit your DNA into a tube and mail it off to a company that analyses your genetic code while promising to keep your sensitive data safe. So far, 26 million people (myself included) have sent off the

Tests are completed. Books are returned. Lockers are emptied. The “have a nice summer” inscribed into yearbooks stings this time, as the recipient knows it’s the last summer before their lives are about to change forever. Caps are decorated with sequins and glitter, displaying a funny saying or a beloved cartoon character.    Gowns are carefully ironed, so as to remove the crease that forms from sitting in a plastic wrapper for weeks.     Stoles that signify academic accomplishments and memberships in honors societies are draped carefully on top of the gown, ready to be put on for the commencement ceremonies. Parents and siblings and grandparents and out of town relatives make plans to celebrate the accomplishments of their graduate. The last-minute details of graduation parties are in place. It’s all happening.   The hour is here.     Graduation signals the completion of something big, the first step into new levels of responsibilities and opportunities. You finally have freedom