Category Archives: Aging and Ageless

Celebrating Mother’s Day 2013

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The older I get, the more I see
The power of that young woman, my mother.
– Sharon Olds, American poet

Mother's Day 2013 with David's parents after breakfast at Fat Apple's.

Mother’s Day 2013 with David’s parents after breakfast at Fat Apple’s.

David started a Mother’s Day tradition that pre-dated our getting together. This tradition has been going strong for 20 years now. He is a fantastic chef and he loves to cook – lucky me – and every Saturday evening of Mother’s Day weekend, he makes a gourmet dinner for his mom and me. His parents and his brother Michael come up for the weekend, and then Sunday morning, his parents treat our family for breakfast at Fat Apple’s in El Cerrito (7525 Fairmount Avenue, 510.528.3433). We have learned to get there before eight in the morning to avoid having to stand in line, which can be quite some time when there are seven of us waiting for a table.

This year, David grilled everything – swordfish on a bed of tomatoes and arugula, clams with prosciutto and tabasco, potatoes with a Chianti vinaigrette, and fresh asparagus with prosciutto (his parents brought these fresh, thick spears from Stockton) – and paired dinner with a smooth White Southern Rhone Blend. He ended the evening serving a mango smoothie. Overall, the meal was not heavy at all; in fact, it didn’t seem like it was a five-course meal and we didn’t roll away from the dining room.

Too many choices of plants at Annie's Annuals in Richmond. A big hat, from Anthropologie, is a must to keep the sun at bay!

Too many choices of plants at Annie’s Annuals in Richmond. A big hat, from Anthropologie, is a must to keep the sun at bay!

After his parents and brother left Sunday morning, we headed to Annie’s Annuals (740 Market Avenue, Richmond, 94801, 510.215.1671), a fabulous nursery that throws a big Mother’s Day weekend party, complete with face painting, entertainment by Budderball the Clown, music, a mini petting zoo (new this year), plant talks under a tent, a raffle, and food and drinks. It gets crowded, but we enjoy going to get a few plants for my pots and admire the row upon row of plants and flowers that I wish would fit in our garden. The trek to Annie’s Annuals has become a recent tradition in the past few years. The evening ended with David preparing a Mother’s Day dinner for our family – lamb kabob, keeping this year’s theme of grilling going through the weekend.

Remembering my Mom
This is the second Mother’s Day that I am celebrating without my mother. In the past, while we spent Mother’s Day weekend with David’s parents, I sent my mother a card and plant (flowers would trigger her seasonal allergies, so I stopped having flowers delivered) and then called her that Sunday. Last year was difficult and painful. This year is no less difficult, but in a different way. Gone is the immediacy of her no longer being with us. Instead, I feel a bit lost, like what an orphan might feel.

Mom and me at my graduation, UC Davis, June 1985.

Mom and me at my graduation, UC Davis, June 1985.

I posted on Facebook a picture of my mother and me on my graduation day 1985 at UC Davis. It is one of my all-time favorite photos of the two of us because it was spontaneous – I was looking off to the side with my arm around her, and she had this half-smile and looking off into the distance. What was she thinking? Maybe that she was able to get her third daughter through college – a proud moment, indeed. One of my cousins posted a comment that she remembered, as a child, my mother as always looking beautiful and elegant, and that her style and beauty never faded. Growing up, I never thought of my mother as beautiful because I didn’t see her as anything but a mother who was very strict, who worked herself to exhaustion in the vineyards and in the packing house so she could give us the material things that made up the American Dream. Looking back now, yes, she was beautiful. My grandmother had Chinese in her heritage and my grandfather Spanish in his. My mother had that mestizo look.

My mom in high heels, the Philippines, circa 1950s.

My mom in high heels and a modern striped frock, the Philippines, circa 1950s.

She also had a quiet style. She wore her hair fashionably short, which suited her. Though plump as a teenager and young adult, she was always thin since her marriage to my father. I loved her dresses from the 1960s – fitted bodices and flared skirts. Even in her later years, I could find at least one outfit in her closet that I could wear and look neither matronly nor out of fashion.

She never wore high heels in my lifetime, but a few years ago when I became obsessed with high heels and platforms and showed my mother a pair of high-heeled pumps that I had purchased at a local shoe store, she got excited. She told me that she wore high heels when she was much younger. I could see her living vicariously, as she turned my newly purchased shoe over in her hands. She liked what I had picked out. Maganda, beautiful. I looked at her, amazed, never imagining my mother rocking a pair of high-heeled shoes. In the vineyards, she wore old clothes sealed at the openings with duct tape to keep the dust out. She came home after 10-plus-hour days sweaty, her work clothes coated in dust. In the packing house, she wore an apron stained with purple dye from the Sunkist brand stampings on the shiny, hard oranges. I was glad she had told me that about her. It was something we had in common, a story I keep in my heart.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms in the world and in heaven!

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms in the world and in heaven!

A toast on Mother's Day 2013!

A toast on Mother’s Day 2013!

Textures reign in this very comfortable outfit: Ann Ferriday camisole (Personal Pizazz, Berkeley), wide-legged semi-sheer pants (Free People), long tassel earrings (Shopbop) and J. Crew crystal bracelet. The texture and scalloped neckline of the camisole and drop earrings require an accessory-free neck and chest.

Texture reigns in this very comfortable outfit: Ann Ferriday camisole (Personal Pizazz, Berkeley), wide-legged semi-sheer pants (Free People), long tassel earrings (Shopbop) and J. Crew crystal bracelet. The texture and scalloped neckline of the camisole and drop earrings look best without a necklace.

Remembering my father on the anniversary of his birthday

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I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren’t trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.
– Umberto Eco, Foucault’s Pendulum

I took a lot of photos of my father in his garden while taking a photography class in 1982.

I took a lot of photos of my father in his garden while taking a photography class in 1982.

Yesterday was my father’s birthday. Given that he was 55 when I was born, he would have been 106 years old today. He came to the United States in the mid-1920s, following his older cousins when he was a teenager. His relatives laughed at him because he didn’t know how to speak English, and his defiant response was, “I know ‘yes’ and ‘no.'” This should have told me a lot about my father. But I didn’t appreciate his courage and resiliency because first I had to overcome the generational and cultural gaps between us, which didn’t happen until I went away to college.

Dad liked making cakes. He lined the kitchen cabinet shelf with a row of Betty Crocker yellow cake mixes.

Dad liked making cakes. He lined the kitchen cabinet shelf with a row of Betty Crocker yellow cake mixes, 1985.

When I went to UC Davis and wrote stories in my fiction workshops, in a nod to youthful naiveté and indulgence, I modeled my writing after great writers such as Hemingway and Joyce. Not surprisingly, my stories were artificial and awkward. Prompted by an unknown reason, I wrote a short story about a father and daughter. In one scene, Emily, the protagonist, is embarrassed when her elementary school teacher mistakes her father for her grandfather and tries to hush him when he speaks in broken English and proclaims that he is so proud of his daughter – who helps him with his spelling when writing letters to his relatives – because he never made it past second grade in his home country. My classmates, and my professor, really liked the story. The father, they enthused, was endearing and human; they wanted to know more about him. They wanted more of his story. On the other hand, they disliked the girl, who was cruel and disrespectful to her father. In writing that first story, which I still have, I, too, wanted to know more about him. And I, too, disliked the girl, and I wanted her to change.

My father loved to read the newspaper every day. He always bought the Los Angeles Times.

My father loved to read the newspaper every day. He always bought the Los Angeles Times, 1988.

Confronting the past
Growing up, he was already an old man to me, retired by the time I was 10. As a child, I couldn’t appreciate his idiosyncrasies. He thought the new microwave we bought would blow up the house. I can still see him scurrying in his house slippers after the delivery men – from the truck, through the garage, and into the family room – telling them that the new color television console they were carrying would make us go blind. Sleeping with socks on would make our feet grow big (my sisters and I have big feet, so perhaps he was right). Sweeping the kitchen floor at night would disturb the fairies that ventured out at night. When I would come home from high school with severe menstrual cramps, he would follow me all the way to my bedroom, insisting I got sick because I went to bed with wet hair the night before. And yet, as soon as I crawled into bed, he would rush to the kitchen to boil water for my hot water bottle.

My father posing with one of my Christmas presents to him - a Giants baseball cap, 1994.

My father posing with one of my Christmas presents to him – a Giants baseball cap, 1994.

Instead of admiring the fact that he actually watched Babe Ruth play in Yankee Stadium, my sisters and I focused on how old that made him out to be! He loved major league baseball, loved the San Francisco Giants, though we grew up in Los Angeles Dodger territory. His favorite player was Willie McCovey. Once when McCovey hit a home run during a televised game, he stood up from his recliner – his version of the Wave long before the Wave became popular – and threw up his arms, yelling, “Home run!” When the network replayed the swing of McCovey’s bat and the ball sailing over the fence, he stood up again, waving his arms, and yelling, “Another home run!” This happened on more than one occasion with different players and teams. My sisters and I would laugh in a painful kind of way, and scold him, “Dad! That was a replay, not another home run!” He would look at us, confused, his eyes foggy through his forever-smudged reading glasses. We just rolled our eyes at him.

Life before fatherhood
I never learned about his life before he became a father until I took a number of Asian American Studies classes at Davis. That’s when I saw some parallels of his life to Carlos Bulosan’s America Is In the Heart. When I was home from college, I would ask him about his life. He didn’t like talking about the bad things – just as many of my relatives didn’t like to do – though when I pressed him, he admitted that he had experienced bigotry in America. “They called us monkeys,” he said, his lower jaw jutting out. While you could hear his wounded voice, he was an apologist, adding that there were some bad-seed Filipinos who ruined it for the rest of them who were no trouble at all to the whites.

Laura Leventer of Personal Pizazz showed me how to pair this maize-colored skirt with appliques with a chocolate brown blouse.

Laura Leventer of Personal Pizazz showed me how to pair this maize-colored skirt with appliques with a chocolate brown blouse.

It wasn’t until after his funeral, after his passing on Christmas Day 1995 that my sister Heidi and I learned why he was so eccentric. (Another example: When I was in college, coming home from spring break, I came home to find out that he had imagined the bus driver who was taking him and his relatives to Las Vegas to gamble was instead going to take them to the desert and kill them. So he hopped into a cab once they got to Las Vegas and the car drove off; he was found three days later, wandering the oilfields outside of Bakersfield, 280 miles away, without his trousers and wallet.) Whenever his imagination ran wild, such as the time he insisted that fish were swimming in his bed, even as he threw back the covers and shined his flashlight on his empty wrinkled sheets, my relatives would click their tongue against the roof of their mouth and say, “That’s your dad!” I had this secret fear that his zany behavior was hereditary, and that at a certain point I, too, would be saying and doing loony things. Our uncle, his cousin, in fact told us that he was perfectly normal before the war, but that he had fought in the Battle of Leyte, which was one of the bloodiest battles in the Pacific Theater during World War II. He was never the same.

Upon hearing this revelation, I was relieved and then profoundly moved and saddened. What was he like before the WWII? How much of my father’s life would I have to piece together from relatives whose ability to recall was faltering, recognizing that he himself was an unreliable narrator when he was alive and I prodded him for stories? How much had I missed for good?

A Gorgeous & Green reclaimed vintage necklace made of chandelier pieces goes well with a contemporary glass bracelet.

A Gorgeous & Green reclaimed vintage necklace made of chandelier pieces goes well with a contemporary glass bracelet and textile earrings by Paz Sintes of Spain.

One of my greatest regrets is not having published a book and delivered it into his open hands. While my mother wanted me to go into nursing or business school in college, my father appreciated my writing. He proudly wrote letters to his relatives about my modest accomplishments. After his funeral, when we were cleaning out his possessions from my parents’ bedroom, we pulled out an old green Samsonite luggage from beneath his bed. Among the papers inside was a yellowed clipping – dated 10 years earlier – of a UC Davis Aggie newspaper article and picture of the chair of the undergraduate English department standing beside me after having given me an award for one of my short stories. It was a painful reminder that I didn’t give him the gift of a published book after all. But more importantly, it affirmed his belief in me.

And in celebrating his birthday yesterday, I keep the faith alive in my borrowed mantra: Keep writing, keep writing, keep writing. And my echo: Yes, yes, yes.

Vintage floral purse mixes well with maize, chocolate brown, and contemporary and vintage jewelry.

Vintage floral purse mixes well with maize, chocolate brown, and contemporary and vintage jewelry.

Beyond the seven-year plan

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I never made one of my discoveries through the process of rational thinking.
– Albert Einstein, theoretical physicist

Now that the weather's warm, unabashedly throw lace and flowers together.

Now that the weather’s warm, unabashedly throw lace and flowers together.

The other night I was thinking about what I would blog about for Friday’s entry. I have several irons in the fire, so to speak, but none fully formed to post. I told myself that I can always “go fishing” again if I wasn’t inspired. And then my sister Heidi called yesterday morning, and in our conversation she marveled at the fact that three months ago she would have scoffed if someone had told her she would be spending her retirement from elementary school teaching, at age 53, investing and working on new business ventures. We were talking about what we had planned to do and what things we stumbled into. It got me to thinking about my “seven-year plan,” which I had never told her about but shared with her on our call.

When I was a senior in high school, my two older sisters were already in college. My mother told all of us that she and my father, retired since I was 10 years old, could not afford to send any of us to a four-year university. We had to attend the junior college in the next town over for two years and then transfer to a university. Fair enough. I held a 20-hour-a-week job at a dry-cleaner shop and loaded up on classes every semester. There was not much to do in either my hometown of Terra Bella or the next town over, Porterville, but I was bound to be productive. And I was bound to get over my painful shyness and introversion, and bust out of my small town. I dreamed big and developed this seven-year plan, which commanded that after graduating from Porterville College, I would attend UC Davis, join the Peace Corps for two years, work for a year to earn money since I wouldn’t have any after volunteering, and then go to a creative writing program (see my Welcome to the Dress at 50 page).

Trying out my vintage dance card pencil pin with reclaimed vintage button ring, and vintage Weiss earrings.

Trying out my vintage dance card pencil pin with reclaimed vintage button ring, and vintage Weiss earrings.

I ended up staying in school three years at Davis, working a year at the UCD law library the year after graduating, and going to Alaska and then San Francisco for my two years of volunteering with the Jesuit Volunteer Corp. instead of Africa with the Peace Corps. Minor adjustments. But I would stick to my plan of attending a creative writing program, which I did. I had met my first husband while a JVC volunteer in San Francisco. Our organization, a prisoners’ rights union run by a Jesuit priest, worked with my husband’s criminal justice nonprofit, and I very much admired his passion and commitment to social justice. His family was from Syracuse, and I chose Syracuse’s creative writing program because of a certain well-known writer in residence and the fact that the university paid my way via a teaching assistantship. The location ended up being central to cementing the relationship, as I grew very close to his parents.

Navy and orange go well together. Think Syracuse! A nude Mad Men pump ties it all together.

Navy and orange go well together. Think Syracuse! A nude Mad Men pump ties it all together.

After graduation, I returned to San Francisco. It was the natural thing to do. But it was also the end of my seven-year plan. I did not have goals or concrete plans after that very precise list of things to accomplish. I assumed I would get married, get a job, buy a house, and raise a family. Indeed, on the cross-country drive home, my husband proposed to me. I have asked myself a number of times long ago – and then recently while on the phone with Heidi – why I slipped into the pattern of get married, get a job, buy a house, and raise a family. It was a comforting life plan, and perhaps I didn’t trust myself enough at the time to think I could really succeed as a writer. Sure, I could write stories in an undergraduate fiction class or get into a creative writing program. That wasn’t hard, and at times it didn’t seem like “the real world.” It seemed, at least or me at times, that we were just pretending to be writers in this artificial environment. But could I get published? Could I be bold enough to say, I am a writer, and really mean it? Did I have the perseverance and patience?

You can make lace on lace work by mixing the colors.

You can make lace on lace work by mixing the colors.

The short answer was no. I was too much of an amateur. I didn’t trust myself or have confidence in myself, especially after being told in my last semester by a cantankerous poet and professor that I didn’t know how to write. This manifested itself in my not writing at all. I remembered the nervous laughter my fiction-writing friends and I exchanged when we told one another to keep writing after leaving Syracuse. Of course, we would. More nervous laughter.

Another way to break up lace on lace is with accessories: The Edwardian-era purse and mottled brown (animal print) bring more texture and interest in vintage and contemporary.

Another way to break up lace on lace is with accessories: The Edwardian-era purse and mottled brown (animal print) bring more texture and interest in vintage and contemporary.

There is a certain comfort, after going bold, in burrowing in a secure place. What if I had stopped myself and said, this is not where I should be going. When I told my co-worker – at her wedding reception, no less – that my husband and I had separated, all she could say was, “Oh, Patty!” in a forlorn yet knowing voice that deflated me. Months later, she brought up a time during my wedding planning when we were riding up an escalator at the Union Square Macy’s during our lunch break. I had looked off into space and said to no one in particular, “Is this all there is?” My heart broke when she told me. Soon other co-workers reminded me of the many times I showed up to work in the mornings with red eyes and a swollen face from crying. We were not compatible in marriage and indeed had different ideas of marriage. I was unhappy, stunted in every aspect of my life, and I did not know what to do.

I remember scoffing at my husband at the time of our separation when he concluded that one of the problems was that I had married too young, had only been in two serious relationships, and had never really lived on my own. I was 29 years old at the time; how could that be too young? But he was right. I should not have stopped at seven years with my dreams. I should not have entered a place that I wasn’t ready to be. In fact, I had retreated to this place.

A bejeweled collar ties together a striped pink and cream casual blouse and green faux ostrich handbag.

A bejeweled collar ties together a striped pink and cream casual blouse and green faux ostrich handbag.

To be clear, I am not advocating not getting married or having a family. I am advocating getting married because you and your partner love one another very much and want to spend the rest of your lives together, learning, exploring, sharing dreams big and small, and helping each other achieve those individual and combined dreams. And if one of those dreams is to buy a house and raise a family, that’s fantastic. But at the same time, job, marriage, home ownership, and family should not be taken on because that’s what people do, that’s what our parents did. Or because at the time it was safe and comfortable. All of those things should not blunt who you are or want to be.

The dreams, the goals, of becoming the person we are meant to be should never end. Don’t stop at a certain timeframe. First and foremost, take time to bloom as a person – the other stuff will either happen or not. But don’t force it. Instead, focus your energies on dreaming big. Go bold. Never give up. It’s never too late, no matter your age, so long as you are young in spirit.

A close-up of the bejeweled collar (Anthropologie) and Carmela Rose bird and sphere earrings.

A close-up of the bejeweled collar (Anthropologie) and Carmela Rose bird and sphere earrings.

Easter reflections

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What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.
– Kobayashi Issa, Japanese poet and lay Buddhist priest

Last year was the first Easter we celebrated without my mother. In the past, when my son was a toddler, we drove down to San Diego to spend the weekend with David’s sister’s family and his parents. After my daughter was born, we took them to Folsom to spend the holiday with my sister’s family and my mother. We still went to Folsom last year, even though my nephew, who was a freshman in high school at the time, finally won out and no longer had to participate in Easter egg hunts and the interest within my kids was also waning.

Calla lilies in our garden.

Calla lilies in our garden.

After my mother’s passing, I told David that we needed to spend more time with his parents, who are in their early seventies. I am acutely aware that I didn’t spend enough time with my mother in the last few years, and I don’t want to repeat the same mistake. When the kids were babies and toddlers, I made many a weekend trip to Folsom, but all that changed when my son got involved in sports in the second grade – baseball and basketball. He has since given up basketball, but his baseball schedule used to be every weekend from February through mid-August. My daughter joined a soccer team last fall, and now our Saturdays in the falls and springs are spoken for.

This past Christmas, David and his siblings got his parents a surround sound entertainment system, which David and one of his brothers set up. David needed to finish up the job, so he had to come back after the holidays. By the time a weekend could be found, I was out of town on a business trip. But my daughter ran a temperature on the appointed weekend, and then had another virus the following weekend, which was when the rescheduled trip had been planned. We were all set to go two weekends ago, and then his father called to tell us a good friend of theirs had caught a secondary infection while in the hospital after contracting sepsis, following a procedure to eradicate a spot on his liver. He was not expected to make it through the weekend, and David’s parents thought it best if we didn’t come.

Pink tulips in our side garden.

Pink tulips in our side garden.

Their friend passed away that Saturday evening, and his funeral was set for the following Saturday. David’s dad was scheduled to eulogize his long-time friend. Our weekend was booked for my son’s first baseball tournament of the season. On the drive home from the games that Saturday afternoon, David’s brother called. David listened to the voicemail message when we got home: His parents had been hit by a car crossing the street at a four-way stop. The driver had stopped, but then proceeded to turn. He later told the police officer that the sun was in his eyes and he didn’t see them. My mother-in-law was knocked to the ground and thankfully only suffered bruises, but my father-in-law’s head cracked the car windshield. He had broken two vertebrae in his neck and his forehead was stitched up. Fortunately, he didn’t suffer a concussion.

We came that Sunday sans the kids, and we were going to come the following weekend, when he would be home from the hospital. We ended up coming Easter weekend, which seemed a better time to spend with them. Two of David’s brothers also came. It was a 24-hour visit, as we left after my son’s baseball practice and my daughter’s soccer game. It was a short visit, but we had a nice dinner and breakfast. The kids played a Mexican domino board game with their “noni,” their uncle’s girlfriend, and their dad. They weeded the backyard for their “noni,” which she paid them for their services. We watched a little bit of March madness, some Sharks hockey, and the original Pink Panther movie in surround sound.

On cool spring days, layer a heavier sweater over a thinner floral sweater.

On cool spring days, layer a heavier sweater over a thinner floral sweater.

At night, we watched an amazing lightning and thunderstorm play out from David’s parents’ bedroom window. It was quite a display of theatrics, which none of us has ever seen before, including David, who has seen his share of Tennessee thunderstorms. It made us realize how small we humans are against the force of Nature. It made us appreciate the power of Nature. Then we went to bed, and time flew by. Time flew by – It’s a cliché I find myself referencing with greater frequency. There is an equal sense of urgency that accompanies the acknowledgment, the inevitable.

When the sun comes out, you can peel off the outer sweater.

When the sun comes out, you can peel off the outer sweater.

It was a quiet Easter, but an important one. I’m glad the kids could share the holiday with their noni and papa and two of their uncles. Like spring, Easter is a time for renewal and rejuvenation, for being amazed by and grateful for life, which is the ideal response to the events of the past few weeks.

Pink and floral for spring, sweater and thin-wale corduroy for cooler weather.

Pink and floral for spring, sweater and thin-wale corduroy for cooler weather.

Peggy Liou and Tenny Tsai: A Tale of two big-hearted friends (Part II)

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Shared joy is a double joy, shared sorrow is half a sorrow.
– Swedish proverb

Volunteerism: An Integral part of their lives
Peggy Liou, 58, attributes her volunteerism to Tenny Tsai, 59. “She is the biggest hearted person I have ever met,” she said, of her good friend. “Once you start it [volunteerism], that’s it; there’s no turning back.” Liou worked full time outside of the home, raised her son and daughter, now 31 and 23, respectively, but still found time to volunteer her time to charitable organizations. The key to volunteerism for multi-tasking mothers, and really, anybody, according to Liou, is to “surround yourself with friends who are into giving back. It makes it fun – like a friends and family event.” Tsai would often call Liou to volunteer, and Liou joked, “You can’t say no to Tenny.”

The family-formed walk group for the Alzheimer's Association's Walk to End Alzheimer's, October 2012. (Photo courtesy of Tenny Tsai)

The family-formed walk group for the Alzheimer’s Association’s Walk to End Alzheimer’s, October 2012. (Photo courtesy of Tsai)

Liou’s daughter, Christina, who is Tsai’s goddaughter, recalled growing up participating in fundraising events that soon became annual family traditions. “It [volunteer work] was a part of our lives,” the elder Liou said. Every October, for example, the two families participate in the Self-Help for the Elderly‘s Golden Gate Walkathon and the Alzheimer’s Association’s Walk to End Alzheimer’s in San Francisco. The purpose of the walk is to raise people’s awareness and raise fund. In June, they attend the Self-Help for the Elderly’s annual Longevity Gala with family and friends, an annual event which raises between $400,000 and $500,000 to fund the nonprofit organization’s services. In the past, Liou has helped organize and provide the entertainment for the gala.

There are so many charitable organizations to support – from prevention and finding cures to diseases and environmental protection to elimination of hunger and homelessness locally, nationally, and globally – that choosing where to invest one’s time and energies can be daunting. The decision is made easy, according to Liou, when you choose “where your heart is.” In the last six years, since her daughter entered Stanford University, Liou became more involved in education for both the young and the elderly.

Self-Help for the Elderly fundraiser dinner: Tsai, Rosalyn Koo, Tsai's mother Tina, and Liou, June 2012. (Photo courtesy of Tsai)

Self-Help for the Elderly fundraiser dinner: Tsai, Rosalyn Koo, Tsai’s mother Tina, and Liou, June 2012. (Photo courtesy of Tsai)

Liou pointed out that the elderly rarely get much attention. Tsai, who was very close to her grandmother and was one of her main caregivers the last 10 years of her grandmother’s life, became passionate about issues around the elderly. Another good friend of hers introduced her to Self-Help for the Elderly when Tsai was asked to serve lunches to the elderly and drive the elderly participants for the walkathons. Gradually, Tsai became more involved and in a greater capacity. Around the time of her grandmother’s passing, Tsai was urged to join the board of the Alzheimer’s Association by a local committee member who said the organization needed an advocate who could speak on behalf of a more diverse community. Tsai served on the local board for seven years, following by eight years of service on the national board. Tsai’s passion and her commitment to the elderly were inherited by her daughter, Elisha Bonny, 29, Liou’s goddaughter, who is a nurse practitioner with a specialty in geriatrics.

Turning adversity into opportunity in order to give more
Just as Tsai’s life experiences informed her volunteerism, Liou’s triumph over breast cancer is leading her to new ways of giving. “Any harsh experience is a learning experience: I got cancer for a reason,” Liou said. Whereas last year’s goal was to recover and make three trips to China, her goal for this year is to “pick up a little more volunteer work” – as if she doesn’t have enough on her plate. Liou has been talking with cancer patients and is hoping to do more. She is especially keen to change the prevalent attitude among Asian patients who believe their cancer is a punishment from God for some transgression they had committed. “If I can share anything positive with people – that’s my calling,” she said.

After one of Liou's treatments, with Tsai and her son, Garrett, and Liou's daughter, Christina, 2011. (Photo courtesy of Tsai)

After one of Liou’s treatments, with Tsai and her son, Garrett, and Liou’s daughter, Christina, 2011. (Photo courtesy of Tsai)

Tsai can relate to Liou’s gift of feeling blessed. When Tsai’s grandmother passed away, she felt a void, which is common among primary caregivers. Tsai recalled going to her grandmother’s bedroom and staring at her empty bed, wondering if her own life was finished. When she began volunteering with the Alzheimer’s Association – visiting with elderly people and comforting family members of the elderly, and then participating in policy development and supporting research for cures – her own grief was lessened. “It was also a way to lessen people’s burden,” she said.

Friends, family, and faith
When Liou met her oncology doctor for the first time, he told her he could tell on the first visit which cancer patients had better recovery and survival rates. Studies have shown that chances are greater when the patient was healthy before contracting cancer (that the patient didn’t have other health conditions prior) and how many family and friends accompany the patient to treatments and doctor visits. Faith, family, and friends have been fueling Liou’s recovery. The “three F’s,” as Liou calls them, have always played important roles in both Liou’s and Tsai’s lives.

The three families went on vacations together. Tsai and Liou at Lake Tahoe, 1983. (Photo courtesy of Tsai)

The three families went on vacations together. Tsai and Liou at Lake Tahoe, 1983. (Photo courtesy of Tsai)

At the high-tech company where they met back in 1979, Tsai and Liou had befriended a coworker, Paul Roth, and the three formed a strong bond and friendship, which resulted in the three families taking vacations together. On walks at work, Tsai and Liou became the eyes for Roth, who had lost his sight at the age of 28 in a chemistry lab accident, by describing the physical world around them. At the same time, Roth helped them “see life more in-depth,” according to Tsai. Liou agreed, adding, “We helped him see with our eyes, but he helped us to see with the heart, to see things differently.” When Tsai and Liou came to Roth with their problems, he listened to them without passing judgment and in doing so helped them resolve their own issues through talking it out.

When Roth passed away in 2005, a small foundation was set up, and every year the Roth and Tsai children determine which organization will receive the donation. “It is a wonderful way for them to learn how to work together for a good cause,” Tsai said. The three families come together every year on the day of Roth’s passing, though Tsai points out that they celebrate his life by continuing to be involved with each other’s lives. Tsai and Liou have attended Roth’s two daughters’ and their children’s births, baptisms, and birthday parties, and the three families are planning a trip to Switzerland, Roth’s homeland, in 2014.

Faith intervened to preserve the two women’s friendship when Liou was first diagnosed and they clashed over what kind of treatment and which hospital to choose. With her college degree in clinical science and her understanding of the severity of the diagnosis, Tsai believed her friend should participate in clinical trials at the University of California at San Francisco. Liou, however, didn’t want to travel to San Francisco from her home in Los Altos, even though Tsai offered to drive her for every treatment, and instead opted for chemotherapy at El Camino Hospital. When Tsai found out, she cried, believing she was going to lose her friend. While Tsai admitted to being stubborn, Liou pointed out that Tsai merely wanted the best care for her good friend.

A smiling Liou after her second treatment, 2011. (Photo by Dee Lee)

A smiling Liou after her second treatment, 2011. (Photo by Dee Lee)

Unhappy with the decision, Tsai nevertheless accompanied Liou to her first round of chemotherapy. Tsai offered a prayer before treatment, holding hands with Liou’s husband, Leo, and daughter, Christina. When Tsai concluded the prayer, Liou’s oncology nurse responded behind them, saying, “I love Jesus, too.” Her response was a spiritual confirmation for Tsai, who said, of that moment, “I surrendered my will to God, and I realized our friendship really took me to a different level that I have to trust.” Tsai had to trust God and love Peggy, and in doing so, she had to trust her friend’s decision and let her live her own life. “If I love her and care for her, I have to totally accept that, whether I like it or not,” she said. Tsai believed that this trial strengthened their friendship and made Liou’s journey not just a medical journey but a spiritual journey.

“It’s a humbling experience,” Liou said, of all the prayers that family and friends offered on her behalf, and even the prayers of people she didn’t know from Tsai’s prayer group. Despite the difficult time, Tsai said, “There was a lot of joy around us.” Liou said she could feel the strength and the power of prayer that was offered before the “poison” was put into her body during treatments. “I could feel the energy,” Liou said. “God’s grace is there, ready for us to draw from,” Tsai said, though oftentimes it is blunted by human will and wisdom when it comes to wanting to make our own decisions. Tsai came to realize that the type of treatment or hospital didn’t really matter in the end; what mattered was trusting in God to take care of her good friend.

Looking forward to the future
Liou is currently fundraising for the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life and volunteering her time at the American Cancer Society’s Discovery Shop (243 Main Street, Los Altos, CA 94022, 650. 949.0505). When Liou was undergoing treatment, Ruth Jeng, board chairperson and founder of PEACH Foundation, realized that “time doesn’t wait for anyone” and that she needed to do more so long as she was healthy. Acting on that revelation, in addition to the Chinese adage of “do good deeds” and the cultural responsibility of taking care of family, Jeng increased the quota for sponsorships from 400 students to 600 students in 2012 and raised 2013’s goal to 900 students. Liou worried about how the additional students would get funded, and then a sponsor from Taiwan, where an equivalent organization also operates, emerged. While Liou called it “a miracle,” she said, “It also confirms our belief in ‘just do it’ attitude.”

Alzheimer's Association's End Alzheimer's Walk in San Francisco: Elisha Bonny (Tsai's daughter), Tsai, Liou, and Christina (Liou's daughter), carrying photos of Tsai's grandmother, who died from Alzheimer's disease, October 2012. (Photo courtesy of Tsai)

Alzheimer’s Association’s End Alzheimer’s Walk in San Francisco: Elisha Bonny (Tsai’s daughter), Tsai, Liou, and Christina (Liou’s daughter), carrying photos of Tsai’s grandmother, who died from Alzheimer’s disease, October 2012. (Photo courtesy of Tsai)

Tsai, who turns 60 this year, has been pondering her “second life.” Tsai sees her profession as a commercial real estate broker not as a series of business transactions but as a ministry. She is currently searching for a daycare for a church that wants to provide this service to families in need. She continues to work with the elderly, ensuring that their dignity and quality of life remain intact. She finds the greatest satisfaction with one-on-one visits with the elderly, helping them through the last stage of their lives. Tsai tries to spend as much time with her parents, children, and friends, trying to carry out her maxim: “Live like there’s no tomorrow.” Sometimes, Tsai admits, she can be accused of doing too much – juggling career, family commitments, and volunteerism. That said, she is merely living out her philosophy of “do[ing] everything today.”

Tsai experienced a revelation after one of her high school friends recently died of ovarian cancer. Tsai’s visits over the duration of 10 months didn’t change the outcome. What changed, however, was making her friend’s life as well as her own life “more bearable” during those visits. It was difficult for Tsai to watch her friend suffer and to let her go. Despite the physical pain, Tsai’s friend found great comfort in their friendship and in having Tsai be there with her. “If I can be the little buffer or little agent to be there, other people make my life more acceptable,” Tsai said. “That’s what it’s all about.”

Back in July 2012, when Tsai was looking at the PEACH Foundation kids, she wondered how she was giving them hope. “It’s not the one hundred fifty dollars or two hundred fifty dollars a year,” she concluded. “It’s the touch you gave the kids, the hug, and you being there. That’s the crucial word – that you’re being there for them.” At the many crossroads in their lives, Tsai and Liou have been there for one another, holding one another’s hand, listening to each other’s problems and in their listening helping them sort out the issues and resolve the problems themselves. “That,” Tsai concluded, as Liou nodded and smiled, “is what a good friend is all about.”

Liou and Tsai in Los Altos, February 2013.

Liou and Tsai in Los Altos, February 2013.

Peggy Liou and Tenny Tsai: A Tale of two big-hearted friends (Part I)

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It is prosperity that gives us friends, adversity that proves them.
– proverb

Peggy Liou and Tenny Tsai, in Los Altos, February 2013.

Peggy Liou and Tenny Tsai, in Los Altos, February 2013.

When Peggy Liou, 58, was diagnosed with Stage III, Triple-Negative Breast Cancer in December 2010, her friend Tenny Tsai, 59, accompanied her to nine of her 10 rounds of chemotherapy the following year. [The only round Tsai missed conflicted with her son’s graduation.] During her treatment, Tsai promised that she would accompany Liou to China on a volunteer mission once Liou recovered. In July 2012, the two close friends, who met as programmers for a Silicon Valley company in 1979, traveled to a poor, mountainous region in China, where Tsai encountered what she called a “life-changing” experience and Liou returned to the children who, she says passionately, needed her – and whom she needed.

‘Walking the walk’
Since 2001, Liou has been involved with the PEACH Foundation U.S.A., which stands for Promoting Education, Arts and Community Harvest. The Foster City, CA-based nonprofit organization’s main project is to help children from the poorer regions of China stay in school. In China, education is free up until middle school. Finishing middle school is a challenge for students in remote regions, however, because their families can’t afford the room and board. The PEACH Foundation sponsors economically disadvantaged students, but they have to be motivated to stay in school, Liou explained. Thus, students nominated by the local middle schools must be among the top 20 in their class. Sponsors donate 125 USD for middle school students and 250 USD for high school students. A sponsor for 10 years, Liou became more involved in 2006 – “walking the walk,” as she refers to it – by traveling to China three times a year to conduct interviews and home and school visits.

Volunteer teachers for the first session of the PEACH summer camp in Yunnan, China, July 2012. (Photo courtesy of Peggy Liou)

Volunteer teachers for the first session of the PEACH summer camp in Yunnan, China, July 2012. (Photo courtesy of Peggy Liou)

“We don’t just give them the money; we care about the kids,” Liou said, which distinguishes the PEACH Foundation from other organizations. Every summer, the foundation sends volunteers to China to teach in summer camps. “The purpose of the camp is to care for those kids,” she said, which includes developing self-esteem, something the children lack because of the stigma of their socio-economic standing. Liou, who translates the children’s autobiographies from Chinese to English to post on the organization’s website, said that many of their stories “break your heart.”

Liou and her students at the PEACH summer camp, Yunnan, China, July 2012. (Photo courtesy of Liou)

Liou and her students at the PEACH summer camp, Yunnan, China, July 2012. (Photo courtesy of Liou)

Liou recently translated the story of a girl who had started school at the age of seven but quit at age nine at her parents’ request when her father became very ill. While her mother took care of her father and the household, she was responsible for taking care of the family cow, which meant taking it to the mountains, even in inclement weather. “I couldn’t help but cry when I saw other children attending school because I wanted to go back to school so badly,” the girl had written. Within a span of four years, her father was hospitalized and underwent two surgeries. When her father’s health improved, he told her she could return to school, but she thought it was “too late” and that people would laugh at her for going back to third grade at the age of 13. She came to realize, however, that if she didn’t go back now she would never have that chance again. On her first day of school, she wrote how excited she was to return and resume her education. The girl, whom Liou called “brave,” is now in the ninth grade.

Changing lives and being changed
Students who are accepted attend a new student orientation in the summer, which is run by up to 40 volunteers from the U.S. and Taiwan per section, with 400 students in each section. The orientation packs English and Chinese language lessons, music, and other activities into nine-hour days. Tsai had been a sponsor for the PEACH Foundation for four years, but eschewed volunteering for the summer camps because it wasn’t her “cup of tea.” Although Liou had asked Tsai to join her a few times in the past, Liou noted that it was Tsai’s over-commitment to other volunteer activities that kept Tsai from going.

Teachers and parents mold their students for years and their children for a lifetime, respectively, Tsai said, but after the 10-day camp, volunteers come away having changed somebody’s life – as well as their own. “You build a relationship with them,” she said. While volunteers can’t solve the children’s life problems, Tsai pointed out that these children, who often have never had people care about them, experience the generosity of strangers who have come into and made a difference in their lives.

Tsai teaching her students at the PEACH summer camp, Yunnan, China, July 2012. (Photo courtesy of Liou)

Tsai teaching her students at the PEACH summer camp, Yunnan, China, July 2012. (Photo courtesy of Liou)

For Tsai, the experience also made her realize the tremendous scope and amount of work that Liou had accomplished in the last 10 years with the organization. “I was speechless,” she said. She also witnessed the tenacity and passion of her good friend when Liou badgered her doctors after each round of chemotherapy, wanting to know when she could return to the mountains of China. At first, Tsai was frustrated with Liou because they had discussed going to Europe when she recovered. With her lymph nodes removed as part of the treatment, Liou was advised against traveling and being in high elevations, but still she persisted. “Somebody else is up there!” Tsai scolded Liou, referring to other volunteers running the camp.

Tsai grew to understand and appreciate the bond Liou had developed with the children she knew and those she had yet to know. “It was almost the purpose, her goal for living,” Tsai said. In 2012, Liou participated in a cancer support group as she fought to recover. For her type of cancer, the recovery rate is two years and the survival rate is 50/50. “I’m the lucky 50 because I have a reason to live,” she said. “I have a mission waiting for me to do. I have kids who need me. They keep me going.” Liou said that the kids at the foundation saved her life, which motivated her to get well. “I have to do it; I have to go see them,” she added.

Liou spent 2012 recovering from her treatment and learning how to take care of herself and preparing herself for when – not if – the cancer comes back. “I’ve come alive again,” she said. When she wakes up every morning, Liou says she is grateful: “I learned how to live as if each day is a blessing.”

Editor’s note: Part II will be posted on Monday, March 25th.

Liou after her second round of chemotherapy, February 2011. (Photo by Dee Lee)

Liou after her second round of chemotherapy, February 2011. (Photo by Dee Lee)