Even Foolish Shakes Hands

Foolish, Seth’s nine-month old puppy—overexcited, barking, and with wet, muddy paws racing at Phillip—hears the command, “Sit!” and bumps his rump on the ground, lifting a filthy paw to shake as Phillip fondly scratches behind the silky ears.*

An American in India for nine years, I had been overwhelmed by differences of culture, all the while slowly adjusting until India became “home.” The Indians I have met, by way of introduction, either offer a limp handshake or put their palms together at the chest in spiritual greeting. It’s taken me this many years to consider returning the hand shake greeting of the country rather than firmly holding each of the offered hands before releasing.

I’ve learned I no longer have to grip my identity as firmly as I have; my self-defense, hand-in-hand with stubbornness, has submitted to the ameliorating effects of aging with openness about how I could change. I feel closer to Indians as I meld more into their customs while still keeping enough American ways about me to feel authentic.

My realization is, “While in outer appearance and cultural behavior, differences appear to be many, in truth, we may find there is a bonding, one to another, from ever-deepening friendship and more and more frequent acts of helpfulness.”

· Inner Harbor, Nora Roberts