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An Evening with Kazuo Ishiguro: remembering and forgetting

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An artist’s concern is to capture beauty wherever he finds it.
 – Kazuo Ishiguro, British novelist of Japanese origin, from An Artist of the Floating World

Being introduced at the First Congregational Church of Berkeley.

Being introduced at the First Congregational Church of Berkeley.

The last time I saw the novelist Kazuo Ishiguro at a reading was 10 years ago at the now-defunct bookstore, A Clean Well-Lighted Place for Books in San Francisco, when his then-latest novel, Never Let Me Go, came out. I remembered being stunned that he had advocated against setting novels in a specific time and place. The Remains of the Day, When We Were Orphans, A Pale View of the Hills, An Artist of the Floating World – these novels were set in a specific time and place and they captured that time and place so exquisitely. He advocated for universality because that allowed for inclusivity – more readers to be drawn in interest wise and thus a greater opportunity for the writer to touch a greater number of readers. I wasn’t convinced because I thought then and still think today that themes of humanity can come through successfully from a particular person, time, and place, but any time a great novelist speaks, I deeply consider what he or she says.

Ishiguro was speaking in defense of Never Let Me Go, his science fiction-genre novel, a departure from his earlier works. I confess that I tried to read Never Let Me Go two different times when it first came out, and I just couldn’t get into it. Interestingly, Ishiguro told us that he wrote the novel twice in the 1990s. He wanted to write about characters having to face a limited lifestyle in futuristic England. He had two pieces of the puzzle but needed a “situation to make it work.” “Out of desperation, I wanted to get this thing to work, to get my flying machine to fly,” he told us. “Only when it’s flying do I see so many rich things out there when you’re trying to get your writing to work. There are so many ways to tell a story.” Indeed, there are so many ways to tell a story. There are so many choices a writer makes – what to tell, what to leave out, which are traits of Ishiguro’s first-person narrators that I admire so deeply. Ishiguro deftly shows us flawed protagonists who struggle with what to tell us and what to leave buried.

Discussing his new novel.

Discussing his new novel in this beautiful venue.

The Buried Giant
Interestingly, his latest novel The Buried Giant is set at a time in Britain long after the Romans withdrew from the country in the fifth century. But the theme of his previous novels is inherent in The Buried Giant. He told the capacity crowd that this novel is about forgetting and remembering and exploring these questions: When is it time really to face up to the past? When is it better to remember, when is it better to forget – both as an individual and as a nation? When Ishiguro was working through the theme of remembering the past from a nation perspective, he thought of the potential settings – science fiction, France after WWII, and apartheid South Africa. But he set it in Britain during the country’s “blank history” of ethnic cleansing. “That appealed to me to stand metaphorically for the uneasy peace between two factions,” he explained.

And he took on the genre of a fable – mythic but grounded in the physical. He said he “could do something special” with ogres, wolves, and bears as supernatural characters. Ishiguro confessed to not knowing Arthurian times very well, but he is well-versed in Japanese folk tales, is obsessed with Homer’s The Iliad and The Odyssey, and has a soft spot for Sherlock Holmes (as a child) and western movies. The samurai comes to a town that has a demon problem. The aging, lonely gunslinger and his horse can’t accept that they’re past their prime.

Talking about his close connection to Berkeley.

Talking about his close connection to Berkeley with novelist Michael David Lukas.

The Buried Giant is also about two people growing old together and wrestling with memory and forgetfulness, against the backdrop of a nation trying to forget what one faction has done to another within its borders. As for the love story theme, Ishiguro was exploring what happens to a couple’s love for one another if and when they lose their shared memories. “There’s a real need on our part to see everything good and bad, to withstand everything,” he said, when two people share their lives.

Reading the first three pages of The Buried Giant.

Reading the first three pages of The Buried Giant.

Berkeley roots, singer/songwriter
Berkeley holds a special place for Ishiguro because after his schooling, at age 29, he came to America and hitchhiked along the west coast in the 1970s. He was a singer/songwriter at the time and landed in San Francisco – specifically Berkeley – with his guitar and his rucksack because that’s where his musical heroes hailed from and it was also the “center” of the American counter-culture. He revealed that he had slept in the hillsides and worked at a baby food factory for six months.

The turning point in his life came when his guitar was stolen in San Francisco. He admitted that the record company rejections also played a hand in his decision to switch from being a singer/songwriter to a novelist. He skipped the “early bad stages” a writer endures because his songs were full of the adolescent angst and experimental purple prose, which often emerge in the works of first-time writers. Being a singer/songwriter aided him as a writer in other ways. “Songs have so few words,” and the words are “below the surface,” according to Ishiguro. He added, “The transaction is very first-person intimate, confessional. It’s the kind of atmosphere created in first-person narratives.” Ah, that makes sense, given how Ishiguro approaches his novels!

Ishiguro was very gracious while signing his books.

Ishiguro was very gracious while signing his books.

Representing humanity
Following the Q&A format with novelist Michael David Lukas, Ishiguro responded to a young woman’s revelation that in her high school world literature course he “represented” Asia. Of course, everyone laughed, including Ishiguro. He admitted that early in his career he couldn’t help but think of himself as representing Japan to British and felt that his job was “explaining the mysterious Japanese mind to the western world.” Although he only spent the first five years of his life in Japan, at a certain point he made a “conscious decision to be a Japanese writer.” But he got very frustrated trying to write about “human questions, stuff that we all share, universal themes” within the narrow framework of “representing Japan” So when he wrote his third novel, The Remains of the Day, it was a turning point in his life. “I don’t want to represent Asia. I just want to be a novelist not a cultural correspondent,” he said at the time and still is his strong belief today.

Ishiguro was very gracious while signing his books.

A Ziploc bag full of pens – he’ll need them with the long line of admirers who were clutching their copy of The Buried Giant and wrapping around the inside of the church.

Ishiguro responded to questions posed by audience members who had read The Buried Giant and wanted him to comment on what he called its “picaresque providential ending.” He said he is trying to leave the reader with a certain emotion but no practical suggestions on how to solve anything. He concluded, “My main ambition is simply to share emotions. It’s not a bad thing. We need fiction. We need music. So people can share emotions with one another. It’s not a huge thing, but I think it is, ultimately.” Indeed, after a wonderful evening of him sharing his backstory and his new novel, I can’t wait to read The Buried Giant.

Me and Kazuo!

Me and Kazuo!

Praising the struggle, the beauty of ‘yet’

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If parents want to give their children a gift, the best thing they can do is to teach their children to love challenges, be intrigued by mistakes, enjoy effort, and keep on learning. That way, their children don’t have to be slaves of praise. They will have a lifelong way to build and repair their own confidence.
– Carol Dweck, American professor of psychology and one of the world’s leading researchers in the field of motivation

Carol Dweck listens raptly to a parent's request for advice.

Carol Dweck hears out a parent’s request for advice.

Last Thursday at El Cerrito High School, Stanford professor and educator Carol Dweck told an audience comprising mainly parents and educators that we need to nurture our children and students, respectively, as learners who can grow and continue to grow as a result of our experiences with struggling, working through conflicts, and overcoming challenges. She warned that praising our children’s intelligence and ability doesn’t foster self-esteem; in fact, her research shows that such praise leads them to believe that they don’t have to work hard because they’ll get by on their smarts and natural ability. When faced with hardship, they flee or shut down because having to work hard will expose them as frauds – they’re not smart after all – in their minds and in the eyes of everyone around them. Studies show that fear of failure often trumps the desire to invest in the effort to overcome obstacles.

Dweck noted that the self-esteem movement, which instructed parents and teachers to praise kids and tell them how smart they are at every opportunity, is responsible for this “fixed mindset” mentality. Telling kids that they’re smart or they’re natural athletes also feeds into this mindset that your intelligence and skills are set for life. Research shows that they are far from set. When exposed to new stimuli, our brains reorganize neural pathways, making learning, struggles, and different experiences wonderful opportunities for our brains to grow. In order for new knowledge to be retained in memory, changes in the brain representing new knowledge must occur. In other words, you can’t grow unless you’re exposing yourself to different experiences, challenges, and struggles, and taking risks. That’s the thesis of Dweck’s book, Mindset: The New Psychology of Success, which was first published in 2006 to wide acclaim and embraced by preschools and schools across the country since its release.

The conclusion of a very inspirational talk at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Theater.

The conclusion of a very inspirational talk at the El Cerrito High School Performing Arts Theater.

Abandoning the non-learner mindset
While I constantly tell the kids that few things in life are easy and if they were life would surely be boring, I am guilty of this learner/non-learner mindset. Case in point: my daughter has loved animals since she was a toddler. Many people have commented through the years that Isabella’s calling ought to be as a veterinarian, given her compassion toward all animals and the solutions she seeks for protecting or rescuing animals in danger. I thought this would be her path, too, until David and I saw her struggle in the primary grades with math and science. I worried that either she had a learning disability or just didn’t have the knack for math because she would go over concepts time and again that seemed, at least to me, fairly easy to grasp for her age and abilities. I was alarmed when she was forgetting and relearning multiplying and dividing fractions throughout one academic year. I consoled myself with the fact that Jacob got the engineering side from David – he loves building and he excels in math and science – and Isabella got her creativity from me. She has a wonderful imagination, loves to tell and write stories, and is stronger academically in language arts. The trait that I love the most about her, however, is her compassion for all living things and her sense of stewardship of the earth. Oh well, I thought to myself, although she’s “weak” in math and science, she doesn’t have to be a vet to take care of animals.

Signing away....

Signing away….

Dweck would have smacked me for shutting the doors and closing the windows. For one thing, who knows if Isabella is even interested in pursuing such a career. But more importantly, I’ve just labeled her a non-learner with fixed intelligence and skills, incapable of taking difficult math and sciences classes required of pre-vet majors in undergraduate school and soldiering on. Again, Dweck pointed to research that supports the brain’s capacity to grow through challenges and hard work. While she noted that not everyone can be Einstein, even Einstein had to put in years of hard labor to become who he was. Dweck acknowledged that you can have a fixed mindset in one area and a growth mindset in another, but the bottom line is that you shouldn’t shut doors. You should encourage and support. You should validate that hard work pays off. Her advice to teachers to give to students – “I have complete faith in your ability to learn and grow, and we will work with you until that happens” – is a promise that parents can offer in the home.

Grades and working hard
Dweck would also point out that my emphasis on grades is wrong-headed. And I admit that she’s right. I didn’t use to nag about grades in elementary school or even middle school. I emphasized working hard, making learning fun and interesting, being your own advocate, and getting organized. But once Jacob entered high school, suddenly everything changed – with the changes coming from me. I warned him at the end of eighth grade that once he hit ninth grade, “grades mattered.” There was no turning back now. If he wants to get into one of the higher-ranking University of California schools – and I’m not even talking about the stratospherically-out-of-league Cal or UCLA campuses – he has to work for A’s. An 88 on a Spanish test, which he thought was pretty good, was not acceptable to me. I’ll admit that I was aghast that he accepted that score because to me it were beneath a good, conscientious student’s standards. What I really should have asked him was whether he learned something from studying and taking the test. Did he retain any of the Spanish words, phrases, sentences, or meanings? Did he learn how to prepare himself better for the next test?

On my way to an educational evening.

On my way to an educational evening sporting a ruffled bolero, boyfriend jeans, and vintage purse.

Since he entered high school this past fall, I’ve struggled internally over putting too much emphasis on grades. I sincerely want him first and foremost to be a critical thinker, writer, and reader because ultimately these are the skills that will serve all college students well, no matter what they major in, and all adults in their working world and for the rest of their lives. I don’t hesitate to point out to him how his English papers can be written more clearly, logically, succinctly, and thoughtfully. I must be making headway in this area because he shocked me by thanking me for my help on his last essay for his cultural geography class. I mark up the usual grammatical errors and words that spellcheck missed. But I also ask questions about some of his statements, which force him to think more deeply about what he had written, what he unwittingly had left out, and what he was trying to say. Dweck pointed out that if you focus on working hard and overcoming challenges, you appreciate your accomplishments more, it inspires you to continue on that path of persistence, you gain more confidence in your abilities, your brain’s neural pathways light up like firecrackers (my words, not hers), and you end up earning good grades as a by-product.

When I was in college, I cared about grades, but I cared more about loving what I was doing in my classes and soaking it all in – reading great and minor works of literature, analyzing these works through literary criticism, writing short stories and poems and sharing and critiquing the original works of my classmates, and discovering Asian-American history within our country’s history. I truly loved learning for the sake of learning. I couldn’t imagine majoring in anything but English; if I had gone into nursing or business, which were areas of study my mother had gently pushed for, I would have been miserable. So I followed my passion and that’s what I tell my kids to do.

Chocolate and brass: vintage purse (Feathers, Austin, TX), ruffled platform peep-toe pumps, Sundance belt, Laura Lombardi necklace and hoops (Eskell, Chicago), and reclaimed vintage bracelets by M.L. Moore (Green & Gorgeous, Berkeley, CA).

Chocolate and brass: 1940s vintage purse (Feathers, Austin, TX), Anthropologie ruffled platform peep-toe pumps, Sundance belt, Laura Lombardi necklace and hoops (Eskell, Chicago), and reclaimed vintage bracelets by M.E. Moore (Green & Gorgeous, Berkeley, CA).

Despite my lapses in parental judgment regarding grades, I have been sharing with my kids my stories of working hard and struggling with the hope that they’ll appreciate how I learned and grew from these experiences and apply perseverance in their own lives. For example, it took me 17 years to write my first novel and not abandon it when so many things, such as my job and other obligations, kept me from writing. When I sent out a version of my novel back in 2005, I was crushed by the tens of rejections from literary agents, and I let the rejections shut me down for several years. But my passion wouldn’t allow me to remain silent, and nearly three years after the last rejection letter of not writing or reading fiction, I picked myself up off the shoulder of the road and started writing again. And in those years, in those struggles and dark days, I became a better writer – better than when I started on the novel in 1998 and when I sent out the manuscript in 2005. These are the stories I need to remember to keep telling when my first thought is to ask Jacob about his grades when we talk about school at the dinner table.

A great combo: chocolate and brass.

A great combo: chocolate and brass.

The Beauty and promise of ‘yet’
One of the things I appreciated from Dweck’s talk was the beauty of “yet.” Instead of looking at a low grade on a test as a failure, we should view it as a concept or a subject matter that they haven’t learned yet. Instead of saying, “I’m not a math person,” we should say, “I’m not a math person yet.” Last night, Jacob told me that math hasn’t been fun since seventh grade, which I had noticed but tried to ignore. He complained that concepts were becoming more difficult for him to grasp and by the time he understands them, the test has already been administered. I quickly thought of Dweck. I dutifully told him that when he comes to understand the concept and solve the math equation, he’ll appreciate the victory more and feel a greater sense of pride because he struggled and pushed through to the other side. Persistence won over apathy. And then, breaking the spell of that revelation, that epiphany, David piped in that opening up the textbook doesn’t hurt, either.

As for Isabella, who knows if going to vet school is something she will want to pursue when she’s 18 years old? It might be the furthest thing on her mind when she’s filling out college applications six years down the road. I just want to make sure that the reason she doesn’t want to go – especially if it’s her passion – isn’t because the path is too hard. That’s where mindset parenting needs to step up: embrace the struggle and believe in the promise of and the journey to “yet.” And know that we parents, who are also continuing to learn and grow, are supporting our kids – all the way to the moon and back.

Adding stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito CA) and Anthropologie chocolate bolero jacket.

Adding stack of rings (Kate Peterson Designs, El Cerrito CA) and Anthropologie chocolate brown bolero jacket to this ensemble photo.

The Enrado-Rossi holiday greeting for New Year’s Eve

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For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await a new voice.
– T.S. Eliot, recipient of the Nobel Prize for Literature, poet, dramatist, and literary critic, from Four Quartets

Sharing my annual holiday greeting on my blog….

Prologue
I began our holiday letter at various times throughout December – and still haven’t finished it! It’s now post-Christmas and I finally have quiet time to reflect on the past year. I decided to keep the snapshot frame around this year’s reflections.

Dear Family and Friends:
As I sit here on a rainy night at SFO, waiting for my delayed red-eye cross-country flight and the frenzy of company meetings but happily anticipating spending time with dear friends afterwards, I realize my current situation mirrors what the year has been like for me and my family: Crazy busy, time slipping through our fingers, sharing adventures, making it a priority to spend precious time with family and friends, shaping our dreams, and more crazy busy.

Reflections of a great year - Barnes Museum, Philadelphia, August 2014.

Reflections of a great year – Barnes Museum, Philadelphia, August 2014.

Our big adventure this year as a family was our visit to Philadelphia this past August. My goal is to have the kids visit major cities and national/state parks every year while still under our roof. I feel the urgency, knowing that I’m running out of time! We chose our nation’s first capital after Jacob’s enthusiasm over a Washington, D.C., 8th grade trip in February. We figured we could enjoy a history lesson as a family. What we learned or memorable lessons: Ben Franklin was the man (thumbs up), while George Washington as president took advantage of a loophole in the City’s no-slaves law by switching out his slaves every six months (thumbs down). We made stops to Baltimore to watch an Orioles game in Camden Yards and outside of Philly to see Gettysburg and Amish country in the towns of Lancaster/Bird-in-Hand/Intercourse. We also caught a Phillies game, much to Isabella’s chagrin – she who does not like baseball of any kind.

City of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia, August 2014.

City of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia, August 2014.

Promotion ceremony, June 2014.

Promotion ceremony, June 2014.

Jacob: Yes, we have a high schooler in the house
The day has finally come: David and I are parents of a high schooler. Jacob’s two years at Portola Middle School – as we were warned – flew by. His year was highlighted by the D.C. trip and having two wonderful teachers who shaped him academically. Mr. Aloi, his unorthodox history teacher, gave him a love of history – more importantly, a love of the backstory to those memorized dates and names of famous people, places, and events. Mr. McCormick, who was voted teacher of the year for the district, created an environment in which Jacob appreciated English, and this is from a kid who doesn’t like to write or read. Major kudos for that magic! The combination of his love of history and being in our nation’s capital made quite the impression on him. After we convinced him that he isn’t cut out for joining the military, he has settled for learning everything he can about WWII. Months ago, he convinced me to watch Saving Private Ryan with him; we stayed up until 2AM Saturday morning. He has since dug up old DVDs we have – Why We Fight and The Fog of War – and after I summarized these documentaries for him and asked if he was interested in watching them, he said sure. I was thrilled. (Post script: We got to see them during the holiday break!)

As I sit here, among rows of black and steel chairs filling up with weary travelers and amid the constant thump of the escalator, I am warmed by recalling the past weekend. Surrounded by the roaring fireplace and our fragrant Noble Fir tree, we four watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, adding our running commentary throughout, nourished by our traditional popcorn, hot cocoa, Trader Joe’s mini chocolate stars, and chocolate-caramel-sea salt tea. The next night we watched It’s a Wonderful Life, which is my favorite holiday movie. They both loved it, and I was touched when Jacob told me later that he really liked the movie. He’s not as talkative as he used to be, though he’ll surprise me with bursts now and then. But while he’s discovering his freedom and I feel that pull away, I also feel a closeness that I know will always remain. Last Sunday evening when I was working in front of the fireplace, he sat next to me on the sofa to study and we shared the blanket that was keeping me warm.

Strike 3 coming off the mound, Fremont, CA, summer 2014.

Strike 3 coming off the mound, Fremont, CA, summer 2014.

This year was Jacob’s last season on his Hornets baseball travel team, which was ending after a four-year stint because half the team was entering high school in the fall. The team gelled and played extremely well, winning a tournament and placing second in a few other tournaments. It was gratifying for me – and for David, who was his manager all four years – to see the team’s well-executed plays both on offense and defense. It’s sad to see this era end, but exciting to see what high school baseball will bring. As for his other sport, it will also be “thrilling” for David and me when he finally puts in the time and effort into getting his Black Belt in tae kwondo. We’re still waiting….

Flying high in tae kwondo.

Flying high in tae kwondo.

A guest speaker at our December high school PTSA meeting who has studied child psychology gave a short presentation on the teenaged brain – that strange, wonderful, and mysterious organ. She informed us that our brains don’t mature until between the ages of 25 and 30. That explains a lot! It also made me want to tell Jacob – enjoy life and don’t feel pressured about plotting out your life just yet (because your mom will worry on the sidelines for you!). I’m trying to balance the hand-wringing over grades and the nurturing of his love of history, stop-action filmmaking, and animal sciences by opening up windows and opportunities for him to explore these areas. He had a smooth transition to high school and is really enjoying his classes, teachers, and new and old friends. It’s an exciting time for him, and I find myself catching my breath when I spy him from afar and I see him changing, growing up right before my eyes. These are indeed the miracle years.

Spring soccer with Coach Michelle and Coach Brian.

Spring soccer with Coach Michelle and Coach Brian.

Isabella: Our big-hearted animal lover and steward of the environment
Isabella, who turned 12 in early December, is the over-scheduled child, but it’s of her own choosing. She is involved in fall and spring soccer, band (Wednesday evenings with the middle school band teacher in addition to elementary school band), Shakespeare for Kids, horseback riding lessons, and flamenco. She has always loved animals, but after I took her to an urban homesteading talk, she dreams of raising farm animals and growing a garden, partly because it’s good for the environment. She and her friends have raised funds each month selling home-baked cookies and fresh lemonade for the Milo Foundation, which rescues and adopts out dogs and cats. It warms my heart that she is already a good steward of our earth.

Isabella and Tana at a March performance - flamenco twins.

Isabella and Tana at a March 2014 performance – flamenco twins.

Isabella had a rough academic year with two difficult teachers in 5th grade but is enjoying her last year, 6th grade, at Harding Elementary School (our 10th year!). We look forward to her entering middle school, though the passing is bittersweet. She still holds my hand or slips her arm through my arm, wakes up early on weekends so she can accompany me on walks with Rex, and loves running errands with me. That said, she spends a lot of time now with her door closed, playing with her Breyer horses or looking up rabbit videos on YouTube. She’s growing taller and wears a size 8 now (the curse of the Enrado women big feet), big enough to wear some of my shoes. She still thinks boys and girls should play separately. All that will change in a few short years. But for now, she’s my sweetie. I can always count on her to say, when I ask her what’s up, “Nothing but love.”

Isabella and Maggie in Santa Rosa, summer 2014.

Isabella and Maggie in Santa Rosa, summer 2014.

David: An Explosion of projects
After the recession sort of went away, David’s work has exploded to the levels we saw prior to the shutdown in the fall of 2008. Like everybody else in the household, David has had an active year. His office is extremely busy, and has grown to 70 people, while his group is up to eight people, five of whom are quite young. Combined with the volume of work, the youth of the staff has kept David on his toes, a far cry from where things were a couple of years ago. He’s putting in some long hours mentoring the staff and working on several projects, from city blocks of residential structures to smaller renovation jobs. This year also marked David’s final season coaching Jacob’s baseball team, and though he enjoyed coaching over the past six years, he was more than ready to hang up his spikes, sit in the stands, and become a spectator. He’s also been pretty dedicated about attending Isabella’s soccer games.

Enjoying America's favorite pastime with the Phillies and the Mets, August 2014.

Enjoying America’s favorite pastime with the Phillies and the Mets, August 2014.

Patty: Finding my way amid the frenzy
I’m in a nostalgic bent right now, and maybe for end-of-the-year musings this frame of mind is appropriate. So now I’m sitting in Portland International, awaiting my flight back home after this business trip and wonderful time spent with long-time good friends Jack and Fay and their kids. I didn’t travel as much this year as in previous years. And aside from the recent Portland, ME, business/pleasure trip, I only traveled to Las Vegas, Orlando, and Dallas, not-so-desirous destinations. We’re continuing to grow my department, a strategic goal of my company, with me still doing some writing but mostly focusing on management and business development, finally working upstream with the sales team and management to create long-term programs (as opposed to having projects land on my desk for execution). In February I was promoted to senior manager of custom content, and I hope to continue that upward trajectory with a lot of creativity and freedom to make that growth a reality.

Turning the kids into Aggies on Picnic Day at UC Davis, April 2014.

Turning the kids into Aggies on Picnic Day at UC Davis, April 2014.

I joined the East Bay Lunafest Committee last year and in March we had a successful Lunafest screening. Lunafest is a film festival “by, for and about women” that enables local communities to fundraise for both the Breast Cancer Foundation and local organizations. In the fall, I joined El Cerrito High School’s Investing in Academic Excellence, which is a rare committee that actually makes a difference. We identify academic needs, raise funds, and build out programs to address those needs. It’s very gratifying and we’ll be able to see immediate benefits once we roll out the programs in the spring.

Amid work, extracurricular activities, and family duties and activities, I’ve had to cut back on my blog. I don’t know how I was able to blog three times a week, especially during the busy season at work, for the first two years of its existence. I scaled back to two times a week, and as time went on, I found that I’d go through a week to several weeks (like now) of not having time to write. The blog has also changed a bit in that I don’t have as much time to interview all the interesting women I meet and it’s become less of a lifestyle blog and more of a contemplative blog. David pointed out that the reason I don’t have as much time is that I’m finally exchanging activities like blogging with a couple of hours of sleep a night – a good trade from a health perspective!

My all-time favorite photo of me and the kids, outside the Philadelphia Museum of Art, August 2014.

My all-time favorite photo of me and the kids this year, outside the Philadelphia Museum of Art, August 2014.

I finished my novel, A Village in the Fields, earlier this year, and I began the dreaded but deliberately short search for a literary agent. After a well-known agent who represented one of my favorite authors asked to read my manuscript in the summer but ended up not taking it, I decided to abandon the traditional route. I’ve queried small publishers, and as I wait, I’m exploring other ways of how to get it to my core audience – the Filipino and Asian American communities and Asian American Studies programs at universities across the country. It takes stepping back from reading, researching, and writing to develop and commit to a plan of action, and I just have to do it. Once I do that, I can clear my head and be totally committed to the second novel, which is awaiting my undivided attention. That means the fate of the first novel will be decided and executed in 2015, which by the way is the 50th anniversary of the Great Delano Grape Strike – a perfect marketing tool! Stay tuned.

‘In everything, give thanks’
I find myself realizing – during rare quiet moments or when a miracle or tragedy occurs outside of our family – how lucky and blessed we are. Health, a roof over our heads, a means to make our lives comfortable when so many are without these basic needs. I sound like a broken record to Jacob and Isabella about appreciating what they have and therefore sharing and giving our gifts to those not as fortunate as we. It’s only then do we fully grasp how rich our lives are and how this is really the only way to live. As we close out another year and look to the New Year, as we celebrate the holidays, we wish you much love and joy, peace and justice, and light in your lives!

Rex, our 13-year-old dog in the autumn of his life.

Rex, our 14-year-old dog in the autumn of his life, wishes everyone a long life.

Giving Tuesday: Our National and Global Day of Giving

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Give with love and receive with grace.
– Lolly Daskal, American leadership coach, speaker, consultant, and author

The promise of blooming Calla lilies in the rain.

The promise of blooming Calla lilies in the rain.

Black Friday. Cyber Monday. Christmas advertisements and commercials before Thanksgiving Day. It’s easy to let the holiday messaging overwhelm us and dictate our lives at this time of year. As a counter to the consumerism that has overtaken the meaning of Christmas, 92nd Street Y, a culture and community center in New York City, in partnership with the United Nations Foundation, founded #GivingTuesday in 2012. 92nd Street Y has been a local community advocate for 140 years, harnessing “the power of arts and ideas to enrich, enlighten and change lives, and the power of community to change the world.” Calling itself a “catalyst,” 92nd Street Y is guided by its mission “to inspire action by bringing together today’s most exceptional thinkers and influential partners for social good.

The founding of #GivingTuesday was inspired by the core Jewish value of “tikkun olam,” which translates to “repairing the world.” Imagine if every one of us did something – no matter how big or small – to repair the world. Take a small step tomorrow. Once nourished, take another step and another yet. And keep going.

Donate, volunteer, and share your story. By giving, we celebrate generosity. By sharing our stories, we inspire one another and enlarge our hearts and our humanity.

Let’s reconvene on Friday and share what we did on Tuesday, December 2nd. Join me!

Calla lilies for #GivingTuesday.

Calla lilies for #GivingTuesday.

On being thankful: flying kites, riding bikes, dancing, planting trees, and drawing

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Growing up in Cincinnati, Ohio, I drew and drew and drew and drew. Drawing was my way of making things exist which didn’t exist. And writing became a way to have my drawings interact.
– Jon J Muth, American children’s author and illustrator

The cover of Jon J Muth's book, The Three Questions.

The lovely cover of Jon J Muth’s book The Three Questions.

After my son, Jacob, had shown me one of  his children’s book, The Three Questions, based on a story by Leo Tolstoy, this past weekend, as is usually the case when I am moved, I dropped what I was doing and went to the source of the book’s inspiration and went on a quest to learn more about the author, Jon J Muth. I’d forgotten, until I reread this book and Zen Shorts, another one of his books that we have, that I was dubbed the class artist throughout elementary school and had dreamed of becoming a children’s book author and illustrator when I grew up. To some extent, I still harbor those fantasies. Until then, I’ll live vicariously off of other children’s authors and illustrators whom I admire. What I learned about Muth came at a fortuitous time. Thanksgiving dinner preparation and stress aside, this is a time that, in my heart and mind, I give official thanks – as opposed to the spontaneous thanksgivings that occur often throughout the year.

I love learning about artists, whether they be visual, performing, or written word. Knowing their backstory creates a deeper appreciation and connection for me to them. Muth, who started out as an American comic book artist before becoming an award-winning children’s book writer and illustrator, was primarily raised by his great- grandmother, who was in her 70s when he was a child. His parents were pursuing their careers as teachers and he routinely woke up after they had already left the house. (His mother, an art teacher, took him to museums all over the country.) His great- grandmother walked him to school a mile away and walked him home afterwards. They walked the three miles to the grocery store together. He only had one hour in the evenings with his parents. These experiences shaped his imagination, which you can see in his work, especially when you hear him talk about his memories as a child. He found an outlet for those memories and childhood imagination – lucky for us. In one story, he thought if he could ride his tricycle as fast as he could around the cherry tree in his backyard, he could lift himself up and float around the top of the tree. In the second story, the one time that his great-grandmother couldn’t pick him up from school a leaf followed him home. These whimsical stories made me miss those years when my kids told equally magical stories to help them make sense of the world around them, to empower them in a world that is at once enormous, scary, enchanting, and full of possibilities. After all, that’s what stories do. That’s why storytellers exist.

Jon J Muth, 2011, photo by Stuart Ramson.

Jon J Muth, 2011, photo by Stuart Ramson.

The Birth of the writer and artist
In an interview, Muth discussed his evolution from creating comic books to writing and illustrating children’s books, saying, “A sense of joy is what moved me from comic books to picture books. My work in children’s books grew out of a desire to explore what I was feeling as a new father.” Not unlike many of us, Muth said he was “poorly prepared to be a father” and “overwhelmed,” but that he underwent a “personal, spiritual experience.” He noted, “I felt completely responsible for this little being. As his custodian, I wanted to make the world a better place.” Muth acknowledged that this act is somewhat universal, but how he handled it as an artist was not.

“Growing up as an artist, it’s a selfish profession. Your job description is you, you, you. It’s the sense of how the world works and suddenly it’s not about me. It’s about someone else, and by extension it’s about everyone else. That was my experience of it,” he said. For 20 years, through his work in comic books, Muth explored the theme of young man and adult full of angst about the absurdities of life but without the sense of responsibility to address those absurdities. Then Muth read the Tolstoy story that Vietnamese monk Thich Nat Hanh retold in one of his books. “When I read it in his book, it just was like this little deep-laid dynamite charge going off, and I thought, I want to give this to my son. I want to give this to children. But they can’t have to wait to understand Czarist Russia to be able to work with it. That’s how that story [The Three Questions] started for me,” he said. “That was a kind of major turning point where I thought I’d be able to explore the things that are really important to me now in this medium and I’m really amazed and happy that the children’s book world has had room for me.”

A scene from Zen Shorts by Jon J Muth.

A scene from Zen Shorts by Jon J Muth, which reminds me of his childhood story about rising above the cherry tree.

Wisdom at any age
Muth tackled his book’s weighty subject matter without reservation. “I think children are intuitively capable of grasping wisdom as readily as adults are,” he said. “There’s the kind of practical wisdom that we encounter every day that children need to know about. They need to know that …. if you put your hand on a hot stove you’re going to be burned. They need to figure out how the world works, so they look to us to know how that works. It’s very important for us to impart this practical wisdom. I also think that we have an opportunity to offer up what I call ‘prudential’ wisdom – it’s a sense of your relationship to those things that you can’t change, and sometimes it manifests as a spiritual wisdom or a spiritual teaching. Zen Shorts seemed like a perfect place to offer these stories.

“It’s very important to me not to offer something that’s going to inoculate them from their own experience,” Muth went on. “I want children to recognize that what they’re actually going through is valuable. Their experience of something is important to the way they’re going to look at the world. It would not work if the stories were more didactic. They need to be offered in such a way that kids can take them or leave them, and perhaps if they don’t understand something, return to it.”

I feel that returning to the story again and again is something quite important for children. So does Muth. “I’ve actually had that happen a bunch where kids will maybe come to the story first of all just because it’s a giant panda, but then return to it because it’s created a kind of itch in their mind and they can’t quite understand it or it actually, it flies in the face of what they think,” Muth related. “By returning to it and considering it and mulling it over, they have a chance to come to a new understanding of how things are.”

Muth’s prayer
One of the loveliest things you will find on a webpage about him is a link to a prayer. Muth’s watercolor shows two children – a blond-haired girl and a dark-skinned boy – sitting against a backdrop of an ethereal world of oceans and wispy clouds. They are cutting out a string of connected paper dolls from one end of the canvas to the other. And scattered about the canvas is this prayer:
i am the son of a mother who’s lighting a candle beneath a photograph of a new york city firehouse
i am the daughter of a man who hijacked a plane in the name of allah
i am the palestinian boy whose father was killed by israeli gunfire.
i am the soldier who shot him.
i am the jewish girl whose brother was killed by a palestinaian while eating pizza in a mall.
i am the father in America who must protect this great country and this great way of life.
i am the daughter who jumped from the burning world trade center holding my friend’s hand.
i am the orphaned afghani boy who lives in a refugee camp.
i am the woman who led the preschoolers away from fire and falling buildings.
i am the firefighter who saved your wife.
these are the ten thousand reasons to kiss your parents each day, to kiss your children, to hold dear the one you are with.
you are the ocean and each of its waves.
when i reach out to touch your face i touch my own.

To fully appreciate this wonderful prayer and watercolor, please go to the link on this blog. This condensed version is just to whet your appetite and seek it out.

To fully appreciate this wonderful prayer and watercolor, please go to the link on this blog. This condensed version is just to whet your appetite and seek it out.

What it means to be alive
In variations on a theme, he has listed in various interviews through the years his favorite things to do – flying kites, riding bikes, dancing, and planting trees with his wife and four children. In his biography, he offers: “He is astonished at his good fortune.” It’s a stunningly humble assertion. He obviously worked hard all those years and works very hard now at what he does. He’s grateful to be able to do what he loves for a living, for the better part of his day. It’s not really good fortune, although he does point to coming into situations that have opened up windows and doors for him, but what’s wonderful is the sense of feeling lucky and the acknowledgement of astonishment. To be astonished is to be vibrantly alive.Therefore, one can happily be thankful for being able to do all those wonderful things with one’s family and to be continually astonished. As an artist, Muth says, “When I am painting in the right state of mind, my hand disappears, the brush disappears, the paint stops being paint, and all that exists is the thing that’s becoming. I am all of those things at one time.” This is living fully in the moment and being awash in awe.

And the other wonderful thing about Muth? He planted a tree, had a child, and wrote a book. My spiritual connection. Many thanks on this day of thanks.

Tolstoy’s three questions: a timeless parable

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The hero of my tale, whom I love with all the power of my soul, whom I have tried to portray in all his beauty, who has been, is, and will be beautiful, is Truth.
– Leo Tolstoy, from Sevastopol in May, 1855

Leo Tolstoy, photograph by Sergey Prokudin-Gorsky, 1908.

Leo Tolstoy, a wonderful and rare color photograph by Sergey Prokudin-Gorsky, 1908.

One of the chores my kids have to finish before David’s family descends upon our home for Thanksgiving is to clean their rooms, particularly clearing off their floors so that their cousins have a place to set up their air beds. While cleaning his room over the weekend, my son, Jacob, brought to me a children’s book that we used to read when the kids were much younger: “Remember this book, Mom?” he said with a smile. My face lit up! We read this picture book every evening during one magical stretch of time. We three loved it – for its beautiful watercolor illustrations and its big-hearted message, which was intuitively grasped by my kids, evidenced by the wonder in their eyes and their requests to have it read again and again.

The Three Questions, based on a story by Leo Tolstoy, was written and illustrated by Jon J Muth and published in 2002. The children’s book took its cue from a short story Tolstoy published in 1885 as part of his collection What Men Live By, and other tales. Tolstoy’s parable involves a king who believed that if he knew the answers to three questions he would be successful at anything he attempted. His questions were: When is the right time to do the right thing, or when is the best time to do each thing? Who are the people I most need, and to whom, therefore, should I pay more attention to than the rest, or who are the most important people to work with? What affairs are the most important and need my attention first, or what is the most important thing to do at all times?

Tolstoy’s king announces a reward to anyone who can come up with the right answers, but he is besieged by myriad responses from learned men across his kingdom. Confused and dissatisfied, the king seeks out a hermit who is known for his wisdom. Because the hermit only sees common folk and never leaves the woods, the king dresses as a peasant and leaves his bodyguard and horse at a certain point in the woods on his journey to the hermit’s dwelling. He finds the frail hermit digging in his yard. The king poses his questions, but the hermit keeps digging. Finally, the king realizes that the hermit is exhausted from digging and offers to dig for the hermit. The king digs two beds and again poses the questions to the hermit. The hermit merely responds by telling the king to take a break. The king refuses and keeps digging until the sun begins to set. Irritated, the king sets down the spade and declares that if the hermit is not going to respond the king will return home.

At that moment, the hermit spies a man running toward them who is bleeding heavily from a stomach wound. The king tends to the man, stanching the flow of blood, until his situation stabilizes after several hours. Exhausted and with night descending, the king falls asleep in the hermit’s home. In the morning, the wounded man admits to the king that he knows the king’s identity and in fact was on a mission to assassinate him, laying in wait for his return to the woods, because the king had his brother executed and his property confiscated. After impatiently waiting and no sign of the king, the man had come out from hiding, only to be attacked by the king’s bodyguard. The man was able to run away, but was bleeding to death. Now with his life having been saved, the man swears his and his sons’ allegiance to the king.

Painting of Leo Tolstoy by Ilya Repin, 1891.

Painting of Leo Tolstoy by Ilya Repin, 1891.

Shocked, the king is nevertheless relieved to have made a friend out of an enemy and pledges to have his physician look after the man. He then seeks out the hermit, who is sowing seeds in the plowed beds, and again poses his questions, requesting answers for the last time. The hermit replies that the king’s questions have already been answered: If the king hadn’t helped the hermit dig the soil, he would have gone back into the woods and been killed by his assassin. “So the most important time was when you were digging the beds; and I was the most important man; and to do me good was your most important business,” the hermit responds.

“Afterwards when that man ran to us, the most important time was when you were attending to him, for if you had not bound up his wounds he would have died without having made peace with you. So he was the most important man, and what you did for him was your most important business,” the hermit goes on.

“Remember then: there is only one time that is important – Now! It is the most important time because it is the only time when we have any power. The most necessary man is he with whom you are, for no man knows whether he will ever have dealings with any one else: and the most important affair is, to do him good, because for that purpose alone was man sent into this life,” the hermit concludes.

Close-up of painting of Leo Tolstoy by Ilya Repin, 1901.

Close-up of painting of Leo Tolstoy by Ilya Repin, 1901.

Jon Muth’s beautifully illustrated tale posed these questions: When is the best time to do things? Who is the most important one? What is the right thing to do? The protagonist, the king, is recast as a boy named Nikolai, who hangs out with three friends, all of whom have distinct personalities  – a heron named Sonya, a dog named Pushkin, and a monkey named Gogol, who was a memorable character for Jacob because he was playful and carefree. The three friends try to help Nikolai come up with answers, answers that matched their animal personalities. Nikolai decides to seek counsel from Leo, the wise old turtle who lives in the mountains. Instead of an assassin, as in Tolstoy’s tale, Nikolai attends to a momma panda whose leg is injured when a fierce storm fells nearby trees, and later rescues her baby, who was lost in the forest.

Muth once said, “I think children are intuitively capable of grasping wisdom as readily as adults are.” So true. He effortlessly combined his studies of Zen with his ode to Tolstoy to bring to children the importance of compassion and living in the moment. Leo the old turtle tells Nikolai: “Remember then that there is only one important time, and that time is now. The most important one is always the one you are with. And the most important thing is to do good for the one who is standing at your side. For these, my dear boy, are the answers to what is most important in this world. This is why we are here.”

After Jacob let me borrow his book, I researched the Tolstoy story and reread Muth’s book. The wonder returned. The deeper story resonated deep within me, just as it did for me and Jacob and Isabella: That’s why we are here.