3rd Filipino American International Book Festival: an Open Tomorrow

One only dies once, and if one does not die well, a good opportunity is lost and will not present itself again.
– Jose Rizal, national hero of the Philippines

The 3rd Filipino American International Book Festival was held in San Francisco, but it was my first time attending. Friday evening, invited Filipino/Filipino American and members of the Philippine American Writers and Artists (PAWA), Filipino American Center, San Francisco Public Library, and Philippine Consulate General of San Francisco enjoyed an opening reception, which included wine and lumpia, in the Koret Auditorium of the San Francisco Public Library. PAWA President Edwin Lozada gave the welcome, followed by a welcome to San Francisco by Henry S. Bensurto, Jr., Philippine Consul General, and presentations by Filipino American poets, film trailer, and musicians.

Edwin Lozada welcomes everybody to the Third Filipino American International Book Festival.

Edwin Lozada welcomes everybody to the Third Filipino American International Book Festival.

The two days of sessions were packed. I enjoyed listening to Dawn Mabalon (she introduced me at my book launch at Eastwind Books of Berkeley), Robyn Magalit Rodriguez (who blurbed my book), Lily Ann Villaraza (PhD candidate and City College of San Francisco instructor), Oscar Penaranda (long-time middle and high school teacher in the Bay Area and mentor to many current Filipino American academics in Asian American Studies) discuss Filipino American history. Oscar and Lilly Ann started an interesting conversation about the definition of Filipino American and Filipino, trying to get at identity and who defines us and how we are defined. This is important stuff to figure out for my second novel, actually, before starting my second novel.

Another session on Filipino American Literature was sobering because it brought up an admittedly depressing reality – are Filipino Americans reading us? A couple of Asian American Studies professors pointed out that none or one at best of their freshmen students have read any Filipino-American writer before enrolling in their classes. In fact, for one professor, he has more Hmong students than Filipino-American studies in his Filipino-American courses. Twice he has had to cancel because of low enrollment. He also noted that many tenured professors at his university will be retiring within the next five to 10 years, and if enrollment continues to decline, expect those positions to go away and be replaced with adjunct professors with no clear path to tenure. It was too much to tackle, this complex problem of determining why enrollment is declining at some schools and not at others, but suffice to say the dialogue is out there.

The opening reception Friday evening at the Koret Auditorium.

The opening reception Friday evening at the Koret Auditorium.

I’ll admit that before I took an Asian American Studies class at UC Davis, I hadn’t read any Filipino-American writers. I read Bulosan while there and Bienvenido Santos afterwards. Other panelists bemoaned the fact that Filipino-Americans aren’t reading Filipino-American writers. So what has to be done? It requires the incorporation of Filipino-American history and culture into the K-12 curriculum, which means somebody has to take the initiative to develop a strategy of implementing Assembly Bill 123. The bill, sponsored by Assemblyperson Rob Bonta of Alameda, requires that Filipino-American contributions to the farm labor movement be incorporated into the social sciences curriculum. The Filipino American Educators Association of California (FAEAC) is meeting at the end of the month to address that issue.

Hope, however, also abounds in cities like San Diego, in which the school district is establishing an advisory committee to “develop recommendations on how ethnic studies can be implemented and accessible to all students throughout their K-12 educational experience.” Los Angeles and San Francisco passed their ethnic studies requirements in 2014. For Los Angeles, ethnic studies will be a required course for graduation, while in San Francisco, its 19 high schools must offer ethnic studies courses. So this is a good place to start.

But it also means, as the poet Eileen Tabios pointed out as a panelist on Filipino American Literature, that we have to get creative about getting Filipino Americans to read Filipino-American authors. She suggested that various student organizations in the areas of, for example, engineering or medicine be given a book of fiction or poetry in their conference packet or dinner. Maybe the engineering student wouldn’t read it, but perhaps he or she could pass it on to someone who would. Tabios also entreated that we reach out to children, grandchildren to get them interested in Filipino American poetry and fiction.

Reading as part of the Hot Off the press panel.

Reading as part of the Hot Off the press panel.

Isabella was with me both days. And, as Jacob and Isabella did in Delano, she absorbed a lot of information and appreciated the readings. In the session on the Philippine diaspora and politics, Isabella was too shy to participate in the ice breaker of introducing ourselves and telling everyone who we are, what we do, and why we were in this particular session. I was informed by the earlier discussions that teaching and instilling appreciation for one’s culture begins in the home. Even if we have already been assimilated and don’t know the language of our parents, we need to do more than just, as I do on occasion, remind Jacob and Isabella that they are half-Filipino. So I emphasized that I hoped to be part of the solution by bringing my daughter to the festival.

I truly appreciated being among the many Filipino American writers. But even more so, it was fun meeting and listening to writers from the Philippines, Canada, and Great Britain. A reunion of revolutionary writers from 1971, including Juanita Tamayo Lott, Lozada, Penaranda, Lou Syquia, Tony Robles reading his father Al’s works, Emilya Cachapero, and Bill Sorro’s widow. It was a nice connection for me, with one of my characters, Teddy Enebrad, fitting in nicely with this group.

FilAm Intl Book Festival reading

While I never found the time to go to the bookstore area to sign books, I networked like a madwoman, and the connections I made were invaluable to me as a writer but also as a Filipino American who is still trying to find out where she fits within her community.

In honor of Filipino American History Month, the Asian Art Museum had a display of books. I was delighted to find that my novel was with the classics by Carlos Bulosan and Bienvenidos Santos in the museum shop's storefront window by the entrance.

In honor of Filipino American History Month, the Asian Art Museum had a display of books. I was delighted to find that my novel was with the classics by Carlos Bulosan and Bienvenidos Santos in the museum shop’s storefront window by the entrance. Honored to be among these pioneering Filipino-American writers!

On Sunday, Isabella and I got to the Asian Art Museum in the late morning to listen to the presentation of Filipino-American history and hear Vangie Buell play the guitar and sing a wonderful Filipino song with Tess Bautista. We caught the Pina: an Enduring Philippine Fabric exhibit, which is ending soon. Our friends Jack and Justin came for my reading, a decidedly abbreviated reading as part of nine writers participating in the Sunday edition of Hot Off the Press, writers whose books have come out recently or are coming out soon. Erin Estrada Kelly read from her YA novel Blackbird Fly, about a girl named Apple who has to navigate the already treacherous world of middle school, which is further exacerbated by being Filipino in a white world in southern Louisiana. When the book’s premise was announced on a Saturday panel, Isabella immediately tugged my arm and asked if she could get it. We think alike. I thought it would be a great book for her to read. And she had it signed, too!

My books at the entrance of the Asian Art Museum shop.

My books at the entrance of the Asian Art Museum shop.

Now I have to recover for my reading at Green Apple Books Monday evening. All the readings have been wonderful, and I look forward to many more. I also look forward to connecting with more writers and scholars and figuring out how we can reach and touch our Filipino-American community. As this festival’s theme, Bukas Na Bukas: An Open Tomorrow, suggests, the opportunity and challenge are certainly there. And one of the calls to action for the next book festival in 2017 is to get more people to attend the festival.

Book festival poster.

Book festival poster.

Book launch party: Eastwind Books of Berkeley

While we are living in the present, we must celebrate life every day, knowing that we are becoming history with every work, every action, every deed.
– Mattie Stepanek, American poet

I’m late in posting about my book launch party, which was held at my publisher’s bookstore, Eastwind Books of Berkeley (2066 University Avenue, Berkeley, CA), on Sunday, September 13th. I’ll admit that I was worried that not enough people would fill the tiny storefront. I’m happy to be wrong this time.

Professor Dawn Mabalon, who teaches history at San Francisco State and hails from Stockton, graciously introduced me to the crowd.

Professor Dawn Mabalon, who teaches history at San Francisco State and hails from Stockton, graciously introduced me to the crowd (photo credit: David Rossi).

Providing backstory before I begin reading from the novel.

Providing backstory before I begin reading from the novel (photo credit: David Rossi).

Crowd reaction, from Lunafest committee Rhoda and Raissa in the background.

Crowd reaction, from Lunafest committee Rhoda and Raissa in the background (photo credit: Robert Milton).

Harvey Dong, my publisher, teaches part-time at UC Berkeley’s Ethnic Studies department, and his students were in full force. Four of my Lunafest committee members came with a bouquet and a sweet note. Friends whom I haven’t seen in years came, which was a sweet treat for me. Neighbors, old and new friends, acquaintances, and strangers all helped me celebrate the release of my novel.

Reading as if I mean it. Reminds me of when I locked myself in the downstairs bathroom in my college apartment so I could hear how the words I wrote sounded.

Reading as if I mean it. Reminds me of when I locked myself in the downstairs bathroom in my college apartment so I could hear how the words I wrote sounded. (Photo credit: Robert Milton)

My old pal, Steve, whom I haven't seen in years and who I met when we were in the same workshop at the Squaw Valley Community of Writers in 2002.

My old pal, Steve, whom I haven’t seen in years and who I met when we were in the same workshop at the Squaw Valley Community of Writers in 2002 (photo credit: David Rossi).

I haven't seen my friend, Barbara and her husband, Matt, in years. So good to see them!

I haven’t seen my friend, Barbara and her husband, Matt, in years. So good to see them (photo credit: David Rossi)!

My artist/painter mom and good friend Tana. We inspire one another!

My fellow artist/mom muse and good friend Tana. We inspire one another (photo credit: David Rossi)!

Sid Valledor led a tour of Agbayani Village and other important places in Delano in 2002.

Sid Valledor led a tour of Agbayani Village and other important places in Delano in 2002 (photo credit: David Rossi).

Signing my friend Pam's copy.

Signing my friend Pam’s copy (photo credit: David Rossi).

Rhoda and me in B&W (photo credit: Robert Milton).

Rhoda and me in B&W (photo credit: Robert Milton).

My cousin Daniel and me (photo credit: David Rossi).

My cousin Daniel and me (photo credit: David Rossi).

Standing room only, plus overflow out the door.

Standing room only, plus overflow out the door (photo credit: Jeff Blyskal).

A big thank you to Braxtons’ Boxes for the sinfully delicious red-velvet and chocolate mini-cupcakes and to David and Isabella for all those chocolate chip cookies.  And once again, I am deeply grateful to family and friends who have helped me arrive at where I am today. Maraming salamat po!

The line for book signing grows, with my Lunafest family in front.

The line for book signing grows, with my Lunafest family in front (photo credit: Robert Milton).

Happy signing!

Happy signing! (Photo credit: Robert Milton)

Stack of books.

Stack of books (photo credit: Robert Milton).

I have arrived: New and noteworthy.

I have arrived: New and noteworthy (photo credit: David Rossi).

Long road to Delano: A Village in the Fields comes home

No history, no self; know history, know self. – José Rizal, Filipino patriot and national hero, physician, and man of letters

All these past months – a blur to me now – all came down to this Labor Day Weekend, the 50th Anniversary of the Delano Grape Strike. My novel, A Village in the Fields, came out the Friday before – no small feat. My publisher, Eastwind Books of Berkeley, and I worked hard the last five months to get the novel out in time for this historic event, Bold Step: A Celebration of the 50th Anniversary of the Delano Grape Strike. It was worth the sleep deprivation.

The Filipino Community Cultural Center of Delano, home of Bold Step: A Celebration of the 50th Anniversary of the Delano Grape Strike.

The Filipino Community Cultural Center of Delano, home of Bold Step: A Celebration of the 50th Anniversary of the Delano Grape Strike.

I’ll admit that I was a little apprehensive about the weekend because I’d spent most of those five months focused on editing, production, and then marketing and promotion activities. There was no moment of stepping back and enjoying the moment or thinking about the reception in Delano. As we packed up the van, which our friends Raissa and Mike lent us, with 20 boxes of my novel, I told myself I wouldn’t bring any work with me. I needed to decompress, enjoy the moment, and anticipate what I would say or do up on the stage during the open-mike evening and with anyone who came to our table to inquire about the book. As we drove down Interstate 5 in bumper-to-bumper traffic Friday early evening, I wondered whether I should practice reading the chosen excerpt or choose another passage. I was already stressed that we weren’t leaving when I had hoped to leave.

On Filipino time
If there is one overarching theme, it is that we were on Filipino time even before we left for Terra Bella/Porterville/Delano! I was looking forward to a leisurely dinner to celebrate my cousin Janet and her husband Tim’s anniversary. They ended up getting Mexican takeout and having it ready for us when we pulled up at 10:30pm. After dinner, Janet and I stayed up till past 1 in the morning catching up, even though David and I had to be in Delano before 10am on Saturday.

FANHS Delano Chapter president Alex Edillor welcoming everyone to Bold Step.

FANHS Delano Chapter president Alex Edillor welcoming everyone to Bold Step.

The festivities begin
We were late, but so were the festivities. The welcome and keynote address was held at the Filipino Community Center on Glenwood Street, which was a meeting place for Filipinos made historic during the grape strikes. Alex Edillor, president of the newly formed Delano chapter of the Filipino American National Historical Society (FANHS), welcomed the audience who hailed from cities and towns up and down the state. Other dignitaries included Paul Chavez, son of Cesar Chavez and president of the Chavez Foundation, the mayor of Delano, and keynote speaker, Rob Bonta, California State Assemblyman Rob Bonta of Alameda. Bonta is the first Filipino-American elected to the California legislature and author of AB123, which requires California schools to teach Filipino-American contributions to the farm labor movement in social science curriculum, and AB 7, which requires the Governor to proclaim Larry Itliong Day in California on his birthdate of October 25th and encourage public schools to teach about Itliong’s life and contributions to California.

State Assemblyman Rob Bonita giving the keynote address.

State Assemblyman Rob Bonta giving the keynote address.

From the Filipino Community Center, we set up shop at Robert F. Kennedy High School, along with other vendors at the campus food court for the lunch break. The dance troupe Kayamanan Ng Lahi, adorned in beautiful and colorful traditional dress, put on a wonderful performance, which included the tinikling and a dance to the classic Filipino love song, Dahil Sa Iyo.

A fancier tinikling dance than I'm used to seeing.

A fancier tinikling dance than I’m used to seeing.

Tinikling dance gets livelier.

Tinikling dance gets livelier.

During the lunch hour, we cultivated relevant contacts, including an executive committee member of the National Education Association who was a contemporary of the farm labor movement. I talked with Dr. Oliver Rosales, who teaches history at Bakersfield College and the University of California at Santa Barbara. He was part of a terrific panel, which included Dr. Dawn Mabalon of San Francisco State and Dr. Robyn Rodriguez of UC Davis – she read an advance copy of my novel and blurbed me. During that panel, Dr. Rosales emphasized that he wanted to include Filipino-American courses and materials to his teachings because his Filipino-American students were thirsty for more knowledge about their heritage.

Dr. Oliver Rosales.

Dr. Oliver Rosales.

Once the symposium started, everyone moved over to the learning center auditorium, which was across campus. I wanted to watch and listen, so David stayed behind, only to pack up shop in a little while because everyone had gone in. By this time, Janet and Tim and the kids joined us. It was really wonderful for Janet and Tim to be here with me and learn about the part of our Filipino American history that has been obscured for so long. The rest of the panels included a personal film by John Armington – a tribute to his immigrant father Bob Armington, a discussion of what had preceded and paved the way for the grape strikes, and historical legacies and new activism, the latter a necessity because sadly we still see exploitation and discrimination in the labor force.

Dr. Mabalon and Dr. Rodriguez on historical legacies.

Dr. Mabalon and Dr. Rodriguez on historical legacies.

A mom moment
At the evening event, a reception and open-mike, we were treated to young slam poets who impressed me with their mastery of their poems and the passion in their voice and their artistic ability to express their experiences as “other.” I read the first chapter of the novel when it was my turn. In retrospect, David and I agreed that I should have read a section from the strike, and that the first chapter is more in line with any other crowd. I wasn’t nervous, mostly because the event was outdoors and I couldn’t really see anyone’s face. I confess that I didn’t read the Ilocano sentences or phrases for obvious reasons; rather, I read them in English. I was already anxious about incorrectly pronouncing the word “manong” because I’d been pronouncing it a different way. (I want to call out and give thanks to my cousin Annie who explained to me that the accents change when you address someone using the term versus when you are referring to the group as a whole or using the historic reference to them.)

My first public reading from A Village in the Fields, Delano, Calif.

My first public reading from A Village in the Fields, Delano, Calif. Master of ceremonies Herb Delute kindly held the flashlight for me.

The next day, a few people who came up to the table and bought my book told me that they had listened to me at the open-mike event and said they were impressed and that I read very well. My ease is in part from having to do public speaking in my profession, which has been an invaluable experience. Also, through the years of working on this book, late at night, I would often read revised passages in my head or out loud and transform myself into an unabashed thespian. I was a little more restrained Saturday evening, but my heart was in it. The biggest thrill for me, however, was when I walked off the stage and Isabella and then Jacob came up and gave me a hug. Later, I found out that Jacob had posted on Instagram and wrote: “My mom, reading a part of her novel at the Filipino Community Cultural Center of Delano. Her novel came out yesterday. It took her a long time to accomplish her goal, and I’m so happy for her!” That was all the validation I needed at that moment and now.

Selfie with Marissa Aroy.

Selfie with Marissa Aroy.

I was honored to sit with Marissa Aroy during Saturday’s sessions and chat in-between the session breaks selling our respective DVDs and books. I met Professor Allyson Tintiangco-Cubales, who is using my novel in her Filipino/a American literature class this fall. I talked at length with Johnny Itliong, son of labor leader Larry Itliong. I connected with two Filipino-American librarians from San Jose Public Library, who were interested in a reading at the library. I gained more knowledge about the strike and unions of the past and of today from veteran labor leader Al Rojas. And I met wonderful people like Dale, a student from my alma mater UC Davis, who was just as thrilled as I was about the Aggie connection and the enthusiasm for my book. I’ll admit to enjoying my celebrity moments when people asked if they could have their picture taken with me.

Book signing!

Book signing with a smile!

We missed the luncheon at the Terra Bella Veterans Memorial Building for the 60th anniversary of the San Esteban Circle – and I missed catching up with my cousins and seeing other relatives. We were late to the dance, though we were able to see my cousin Annie and her mother, my Auntie Berta, who at age 93 was being honored for her work with the San Esteban Circle. She is not only a pioneer with the club, but she is the only one left of my father’s generation. We stopped by another cousin’s house to catch up with four more cousins, and we stayed up past midnight talking about Ilocano translations and the book.

Agbayani sign.

Agbayani sign.

The interior of Agbayani Village.

The interior of Agbayani Village.

After the Sunday events concluded, since we missed the bus tour of historic sites, we drove to Agbayani Village, which wasn’t that far away from RFK High School. Growth had indeed come to Delano because the last time I was here in 2004, Agbayani Village was isolated from the rest of the town. The village is still operational and clean and tidy; it is being rented out to retired farm workers. The kitchen and recreation room building was locked up, but we could peer inside and see the photographic displays still up for the tours. The garden, line of trees and cacti, goats in their pens, and vacant rabbit hutches, however, were gone. What stood was a vast empty field of cracked earth with a layer of powdery topsoil. I was sad to see that part of the village gone. But I was excited to share the village with Janet and Tim, and especially Jacob and Isabella.

Vineyards across the street from Agbayani Village.

Vineyards across the street from Agbayani Village.

As we walked through the village one last time and headed out through the main entryway, we came upon an elderly Filipino man who sat on a chair facing out. It seemed as if he was waiting for us, so we stopped to talk to him. His name was Edmundo. He told us he came to Agbayani Village in 1982. When we mentioned that Janet and I were related to Fred Abad, his face lit up. Fred was a good friend of his, and he said he was so happy to know that somebody else knew his good friend. He laughed and smiled and walked us out to the parking lot. That meeting touched my heart.

Resident Edmundo at Agbayani Village.

Resident Edmundo at Agbayani Village.

Because the Sunday afternoon sessions ran late, we were late getting back to Porterville. Our anniversary dinner out for Janet and Tim ended up at Super Burgers on Olive Avenue. We hurriedly ate and then David, Tim, and I headed back to the Veterans Memorial Building for the San Esteban Schools Alumni Association event, while Janet took the kids home. I sat with Annie and her mom. While we waited for my introduction, Annie and I surfed through her family photos, which she has been slowly digitizing. What a wonderful walk through nostalgia.

One of Annie's photos from the 1960s: roasting a pig in her family's backyard. I recognize many of my relatives here and recognize my dad's red sweater. He's holding onto me. I'm guessing the terror on my sister Joyce's and my face is from watching a pig being roasted. Vegetarian friends, look away!

One of Annie’s photos from the 1960s: roasting a pig in her family’s backyard. I recognize many of my relatives here and recognize my dad’s red sweater. He’s holding onto me. I’m guessing the terror on my sister Joyce’s and my face is from watching a pig being roasted. Vegetarian friends, look away!

Kudos go to my cousin Leila Eleccion Pereira: During the awards and recognition ceremony for the community’s student scholars, Leila presented my book to the top scholar, who was attending UC San Diego and wanted to become a pediatrician. She gave a brief introduction and had me come up to address the audience. I talked about my mom and dad, the backstory to the novel, and how I wanted to learn more about our history and contributions to the farm labor movement and share that not only with our community but the global community. When I told everyone that our young generation needs to learn about and embrace their history, I was heartened to see some of the students nodding their heads – such a satisfying moment for me. We sold many books, and I give Leila all the credit for her introduction, her enthusiasm, her pride.

My cousin Leila and me.

My cousin Leila and me.

Addressing the audience: telling them about the book's origins, dedicating the novel to my parents and our community, and waxing poetic about remembering and honoring our history.

Addressing the audience: telling them about the book’s origins, dedicating the novel to my parents and our community, and waxing poetic about remembering and honoring our history.

I was touched by the request by two moms who wanted to take a picture of me with her sons, who were holding up my book. Two college students, one a recent graduate from UCLA, the other still at Loma Linda University, bought a book. We chatted for a bit, and they understood the need to remember our history, which made me hopeful for the next generation’s convictions. We left as the evening concluded and retired to Porterville, the last of our Delano activities for the weekend. Wanting to capture more cousin time, Janet and I stayed up again.

Author hawking my book at RFK High School.

Author hawking my book at RFK High School.

The best way to cap the long weekend, which seemed to zoom by, was to have a leisurely breakfast with Janet and Tim and our cousin Debi, who played her guitar and entertained us with all of these wonderful stories from our childhood and from her incredibly rich and complex life. As we left, knowing that we left late and will encounter bumper-to-bumper traffic when we hit the Bay area, I made a note that we’d connect again so I could write down her stories. We made plans to get the cousins together to compare photographs, share stories, and talk about a San Esteban Circle archiving project. So much to do. So much history back home. And overall, so much to be grateful for.

Towering cypress trees at Agbayani Village.

Towering cypress trees at Agbayani Village.

Sunset over Agbayani Village.

Sunset over Agbayani Village. Most of these photos courtesy of David Rossi.

The End of summer: a reflection, a pictorial

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
– Sylvia Plath

On Monday school starts. I need to catch my breath. How is it that summer is over already? After our trip to Italy in June, I was trying to find my easy pace of summer, my groove. It was not to be this year. As soon as we came home we prepared for our traditional Fourth of July visit with my cousin and her husband Tim (aka Timbuktu), which includes the Oakland A’s fireworks game, City of El Cerrito Fourth of July celebration at Cerrito Vista Park, Fourth of July feast, Alameda Flea Market, and lots of science experiments, board games, catching up, and sometimes we sneak in a hike.

Tim, Janet, and me at the Oakland A's fireworks game. Tim took pleasure in entertained us by photo-bombing the group of women in front of us.

Tim, Janet, and me at the Oakland A’s fireworks game. Tim took pleasure in entertaining us by photo-bombing the group of women in the row in front of us.

The A's lost - again - but at least the fireworks were fun!

The A’s lost – again – but at least the fireworks were fun!

We all agreed that this Fourth of July's fireworks show was the best we've seen in four years.

We all agreed that this Fourth of July’s fireworks show was the best we’ve seen in our four-year tradition.

One of the things Janet and I love to do while at the El Cerrito Fourth of July festivities is to buy a necklace from our favorite Himalayan Jewelry guy. And check out other artisan goods. These earrings are by Moon and Leaf.

One of the things Janet and I love to do while at the El Cerrito Fourth of July festivities is to buy a necklace from our favorite Himalayan Jewelry guy. And check out other artisan goods. These earrings are by Moon and Leaf.

Talented jewelry designer and Harding Elementary School mom Kristen Satzman of Moon & Leaf.

Enjoying a conversation with talented jewelry designer and Harding Elementary School mom Kristen Satzman of Moon & Leaf. You can see more of her work at http://kristinsatzman.com/moonandleaf/

Salmon and steak, potatoes and salad, and the fresh corn that Janet and Tim brought up from the Central Valley for our Fourth of July feast.

Salmon and steak, potatoes and salad, and the fresh corn that Janet and Tim brought up from the Central Valley for our Fourth of July feast.

Up bright and early for a Girls' Day at the Alameda Flea Market - our group selfie with the San Francisco skyline in the background.

Up bright and early Sunday morning for a Girls’ Day at the Alameda Flea Market – our group selfie with the San Francisco skyline and Golden Gate Bridge in the background.

Beautiful 1920s French marcasite necklace from Gypsy Road Studio, which happens to match well with the marcasite earrings from Firenze.

Beautiful 1920s French marcasite necklace from Gypsy Road Studio, which happens to match well with the marcasite earrings from Firenze.

In the summertime, Janet and I love looking at lawn art. For old-time San Francisco Giants fans - See the crazy crab.

In the summertime, Janet and I love looking at lawn art. For old-time San Francisco Giants fans – See the crazy crab.

I'm forgetting this Oakland artisan, but I loved the poems and adages burned into various found wood objects. One of my favorites - a poem by Pablo Neruda, one of my favorite poets, whom I studied while at Syracuse University.

I’m forgetting this Oakland artisan, but I loved the poems and adages burned into wood, stone, and other found objects. I immediately gravitated to this poem by Pablo Neruda, one of my favorite poets, whom I studied while at Syracuse University.

Then after they left – such a short visit this time around – we offered our home to a French exchange student for three weeks. All the while, I was trying to edit my manuscript, and then proof and go through the production phase of the book. The month of July, I think I averaged 3-4 hours of sleep. Wait, that’s normal. At any rate, every evening and weekend was filled with reading the manuscript over and over and over again. While trying to entertain our exchange student.

Isabella and I took our exchange student for a day-long walk along the Embarcadero. At Pier 27, we chanced upon a free concert by the San Francisco Symphony - lovely!

On a beautiful Sunday in July, Isabella and I took our exchange student for a day-long walk along the Embarcadero. At Pier 27, we chanced upon a free concert by the San Francisco Symphony – lovely!

Sunday brunch at Butterfly Restaurant at Pier 33. California-Asian fusion and a nice view of the Bay.

Sunday brunch at Butterfly Restaurant at Pier 33. California-Asian fusion and a nice view of the Bay.

We rarely venture to Pier 39, but I forget how spectacular the views can be, so long as you look outward!

We rarely venture to Pier 39, but I forget how spectacular the views can be, so long as you look outward!

The end-of-our-walk view of the San Francisco piers....

The end-of-our-walk view of the San Francisco piers….

And in the midst of our hosting duties, I flew out to Portland for a week for my company’s annual sales meeting in mid-July. Every time I come to Portland, I fall in love all over again. I had to edit/proof in the evenings while there, but I really enjoyed spending time with my colleagues since I only see most of them twice a year.

Downtown Portland - my view from my temporary office at my company's headquarters.

Downtown Portland – my view from my temporary office at my company’s headquarters.

Lunch outside at the The Portland Regency with my colleagues.

Lunch outside at the The Portland Regency with my colleagues.

The courtyard of my boutique hotel - the Portland Harbor Hotel.

The courtyard of my boutique hotel – the Portland Harbor Hotel.

On the menu? Of course.

On the menu? Of course.

Our company took in a Portland Sea Dogs game at Hadlock Fields. The Sea Dawgs are the Red Sox's AA team. They played the farm team of the Yankees. Classic.

Our company took in a Portland Sea Dogs game at Hadlock Fields. The Sea Dawgs are the Red Sox’s AA team. They played the farm team of the Yankees. Classic.

Normally I go to baseball games to watch the game, but I had too much fun catching up with my colleagues. Here, with Eric and Cathleen.

Normally I go to baseball games to watch the game, but I had too much fun catching up with my colleagues. Here, with Eric and Cathleen. And this is after my third hot dog! Yup, I was hungry.

One street down from my hotel, I found a true gelato place - Gorgeous Gelato!

One street down from my hotel, I found a true gelato place – Gorgeous Gelato!

I had to go to one of my favorite shops in downtown Portland - Waterlily.

I had to go to one of my favorite shops in downtown Portland – Waterlily.

The earrings on the left are made by sisters in Thailand. I had gotten a pair by them a few years ago at Waterlily. Thanks for Fay, we walked into Edgecomb Potters on the waterfront. This collective features artisans from around the country. The earrings on the left are made from vintage watch parts. I chose this very Art Deco pair.

The earrings on the right were made by two sisters from Thailand. I had gotten a pair crafted by them a few years ago at Waterlily. Thanks to Fay, we walked into Edgecomb Potters on the waterfront. This collective features artisans from around the country. The earrings on the left are made from vintage watch parts. I chose this very Art Deco pair.

More seafood, please. On the outdoor deck on the waterfront at the Porthole Restaurant and Pub.

More seafood and fresh greens, please. On the outdoor deck on the waterfront at the Porthole Restaurant and Pub.

Dinner at the Flatbread with Jack, Fay, and Mia. One last view.

Dinner at the Flatbread with Jack, Fay, and Mia. One last view.

Upon my return home, it was back to editing and proofing. My publisher Eastwind Books of Berkeley and I were a week late with getting everything to the printer. You would think that a great weight would have been lifted once Harvey, my publisher, said, no more comma deletions; we are done and you can’t touch it anymore. But all that stress over typos, commas, widows and orphan lines still resided in my upper back. One morning in August, I awoke to chest pains and after talking it over with David, we decided to be safe and head to the ER. Thankfully, at 7am on a Thursday, I was the only one who walked into the ER waiting room. No risk factors. All tests came back negative. I went home in a record two hours and yes, came back with peace of mind and stern warnings from the ER doctor and my NP and physical therapist that I need more hours of sleep. Well, okay.

The day of my ER visit, the kids, on their own initiative, made dinner and a wine cake for me. In fact, Isabella made my lunches on the weekends while I was hunched over my laptop editing. Yes, I am filled with gratitude.

The day of my ER visit, the kids, on their own initiative, made dinner and a wine cake for me. In fact, Isabella made my lunches on the weekends while I was hunched over my laptop editing. Yes, I am filled with gratitude.

After the production process, however, I dove into the marketing/promotion tasks that need to be done. So I’m immersed in that right now. Press releases. Press release list upon list upon list. Creation of postcards and posters. Approval of ads. FB author page. Twitter handle (gulp). Author website. Reaching out to academics in labor, history, Asian-American disciplines with a little help from a history professor at the University of Maryland. Scheduling reading events. Networking. It’s all exhilarating, empowering, and validating! But hard to do when you have to do it all after hours.

My friend Wendy Johnson and I attended the Stand Up for Books Comedy Night, a fundraiser for my publisher's bookstore, Eastwind Books of Berkeley (landlord raised the rent - boo-hiss) at the Oakland Asian Cultural Center.

My friend Wendy Johnson and I attended the Stand Up for Books Comedy Night, a fundraiser for my publisher’s bookstore, Eastwind Books of Berkeley (landlord raised the rent – boo-hiss) at the Oakland Asian Cultural Center. And you didn’t have to be Asian-American to appreciate the jokes, I think….

Yup, I dragged David to the Jackson Browne concert at the Greek Theatre in August. I bribed him with beer while I had wine. The last time we were at the Greek Theatre? Twenty years ago when we saw the Counting Crows with our friends John (and best man) and Tracy!

Yup, I dragged David to the Jackson Browne concert at the Greek Theatre in August. I bribed him with beer while I had wine. The last time we were at the Greek Theatre? Twenty years ago when we saw the Counting Crows with our friends John (and best man) and Tracy!

I was thrilled when Jackson Browne introduced his heartbreaking song Sky Blue & Black by saying that it was one of his favorite songs. Me too!

I was thrilled when Jackson Browne introduced his heartbreaking song Sky Blue & Black by saying that it was one of his favorite songs. Me too! His latest CD is very political, a call to environmentalism. The title song, Standing in the Breach, is about rebulding a school in Port-au-Prince in Haiti after their devastating earthquake. Browne was very proud to be a part of this school, which he says educates 2,500 students every year for free. Yup, respect him in bunches.

We managed to have some fun, though. But now school is staring me in the face. Time to be co-chair of the high school’s Investing in Academic Excellence. Lunafest 2015-2016 season will be commencing soon. Work will start getting busier. And my book comes out September 4th, with readings and events, and more marketing and promotions.

We are winding down with our season tickets for the very painful Oakland A's season. A weeknight game with the Dodgers' Kershaw on the mound versus another pitcher called up from the minors. We went. When our hapless bullpen blew a 1-1 tie in the top of the 8th, we hesitated but still stayed. First walk-off win, 5-4, in 10 innings. Nice way to end the summer - Country Breakfast (aka Mr. Double Play) getting a pie and Gatorade. My first win since Opening Day. I know, pathetic. Back to the right-field bleachers next year! Still love the summer classic.

We are winding down with our season tickets for the very painful Oakland A’s season. A weeknight game with the Dodgers’ Kershaw on the mound versus another pitcher called up from the minors. We went with great trepidation. When our hapless bullpen blew a 1-1 tie in the top of the 8th, a common occurrence this year, we hesitated but still stayed. We were rewarded: First walk-off win, 5-4, in 10 innings. Nice way to end the summer – Country Breakfast (aka Mr. Double Play) getting a pie and Gatorade. My first win since Opening Day. I know, pathetic. Back to the right-field bleachers next year! Still love the summer classic.

But would I want it any other way? Heck no. But I will miss this summer. What a memorable time we had.

The last gasp from the garden. Is this truly the last bouquet of August, of summer?

The last gasp from the garden. Is this truly the last bouquet of August, of summer?

Venezia day 2: Murano glass, gondolas, and one last meal

Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go.
– Truman Capote, American writer

I woke up Tuesday morning before 6am thinking to myself, this is our last day in Italy. The sun was up already and I wanted to go out with a bang – live as fully as I could and make the most of this final day.

Watching the gondoliers while waiting for the vaporetta at the San Marco Basin.

Watching the gondoliers while waiting for the vaporetto at San Marco Basin.

Heron fishing for breakfast below our vaporetto dock.

A heron successfully fishes for breakfast below our vaporetto dock.

We took the vaparetto to Murano Island and spent a leisurely morning walking the quiet – thankfully, no tourist groups – streets of the famous place where beautiful glass works are made. The sun was very hot by late morning, but we had a nice snack of croissants, or cornetti, by the waterfront.

Boat docked on the island of Murano.

Boat docked on the island of Murano.

One euro for the accordion player.

One euro for the accordion player.

A quiet morning on Murano.

A quiet morning on Murano.

I had a personal mission to find a necklace that wasn’t like all the necklaces we had seen in Venezia and Murano – the glass balls or overly ornate, heavy pieces. I saw two that were distinctive, but when it came time to choose one, I couldn’t find the other store (it was likely closed for the siesta hours) and settled upon a lariat-style necklace that was unique. We made a return trip to Venezia via the vaparetto and took a little siesta before heading back out for more meanderings on the streets and canals of the city.

Daily life in Venetia.

Daily life in Venetia.

Internet access was spotty once again; such was the case in all three hotels. The afternoon hotel desk clerk was apologetic and kind enough to give us the private network and password, but it could only be used on the main floor. While we sat in the lounge area next to the breakfast room and caught up on emails and or putting up a blog post, our hotel desk clerk had turned up the volume so that Pink Floyd blared from the speakers. Another staffer, upon seeing us, promptly scolded him for his indiscretion, but as we left to return to our room, David let him know that we like Pink Floyd. He smiled and enthusiastically thanked us. Pink Floyd clearly puts a spring in his step.

The anecdote about our hotel clerk made me remember another story of the ticket seller at the front desk of the Museo Correr. As we completed the transaction, he was listening to music and completely engrossed in singing along. He reminded me of the Italian actor Roberto Benigni but with Tourette Syndrome, the way that he was thrumming his fingers on the counter and spontaneously spouting off to himself, so full of energy. He told us that he loved the song that was playing in the main hall, which was called You Belong to Me. And then added that he asked his wife to sing the song with him, but she refused because she said she did not belong to him or to anybody else for that matter. With a mock pained expression, he shrugged his shoulders to David and said women were so difficult. Then he looked me in the eye and announced that at the same time, men could not live without women. He glanced at me when he made the latter pronouncement, as if to include me in on the grand truth.

Rocking boats further down the Grand Canal.

Gently rocking boats further down the Grand Canal.

After taking our siesta, we sprung from our tiny hotel room in search of the Rialto Bridge, which spans the Grand Canal, but along the way, we spied a gondolier tucked away on a quiet canal, looking for riders. It was midday and I figured we might as well take advantage of the ride now, something the kids wanted to do while in Venezia. Part of me was afraid that if we didn’t do it now, we might very well get sidetracked, lose sense of time, which is easy to do with the maze of streets and canals, and then wind up running out of time on our last day. We thought it was too expensive to take a gondola ride 18 years ago, but, despite it being a touristy thing to do, I was all (sans the accordion playing and singing, however, which would have cost a total of 120 euros). I wanted to give the kids a memorable time through the canals of Venezia. It was such a pleasure to hear them say that they enjoyed the ride, and Isabella confided to me that Venezia was her favorite city on our trip, which I had predicted would be the case leading up to our vacation.

Family portrait on our gondola.

Family portrait on our gondola.

Reflections on a gondola.

Reflections on a gondola.

Here we are again, 18 years later.

Here we are again, 18 years later.

We learned some interesting things from our gondolier. Venezia comprises 117 small islands. There are 409 bridges, but only three cross the Grand Canal. Only Venetians can be gondoliers, which number some 430 in all. Gondoliers have to go through training, not unlike driving school, and they own their own boats, which they can decorate as they choose but also abide by strict codes. They traverse some 150 canals throughout the city. Our guide pointed out various churches and famous buildings where poets and other notables lived. I lost track of how long the ride was, but we opted for the day ride instead of the evening ride, which I think will be on the next must-do list of things upon our return to this city.

A grand view of the Grande Canal.

A grand view of the Grand Canal.

After the gondola ride, we finally found, after much zigzagging and meeting dead ends to steps leading into the green waters of the canals, the Rialto Bridge over the Grand Canal. Of course, as fate would have it, the bridge was in restoration, although the shops along the bridge were open for business. I’ve come to conclude that in Italy many famous structures will be in various states of restoration, so I got over the disappointment by telling myself that I’ll return to see in its full glory whatever was covered up before. Such will be the case with this famous bridge. We hung over the bridge and watched gondolas and vaporettos glide and motor by, respectively.

We continued our walk aimlessly around the city, poking in and out of mask and glass shops, not quite finding anything that really spoke to us. We did find Vespa t-shirts, which was on my list of what I’d like to get if I came across them again. By late afternoon, we decided to rely on Rick Steves to guide us to our final meal in Venezia and, indeed, our final meal in Italy. We were the first patrons of Trattoria da Bepi (Cannaregio, 1372), which didn’t open until 7pm. (We wandered around the charming neighborhood of Campo Santo Apostolic on Salizada Pistor the kill time.) But within an hour of our arrival, British tourists and locals alike filled the place up.

Trattoria da Bali before it opened, before candles and crisp tablecloths adorned the tables on the street side.

Trattoria da Bepi before it opened, before candles and crisp tablecloths adorned the tables on the street side.

Local tiny scallops for appetizers.

Local tiny scallops for appetizers.

Tortellini with claim sauce.

Tagliatelle with claim sauce.

Jacob's spaghetti with clams.

Jacob’s spaghetti with clams.

The seafood was amazing – simple, with butter and herbs. The appetizer, local small scallops, was tasty, as was our tagliatelle and clam sauce. We did not find adequate gelato, which I figured as much, given the abundance of tourists, so we indulged in the dolci – a lava cake for Isabella, biscotti and sweet wine for David, and an almond-chocolate cake and sweet wine for me. The meal was molto buono, and we let our appreciative server know.

Artichoke hearts in a patty.

Artichoke hearts in a patty.

Dessert time!

Dessert time!

Almond-chocolate cake.

Almond-chocolate cake.

After dinner, we wandered around city streets again, something I’m quite fond of doing in any city but particularly Venezia because you never know what you’ll find (without a map, of course) – blind alley, opening to quiet residential streets or bustling shops or piazza, or a drop-off to the canal. That’s what makes strolling the city so enchanting. On our way back to our hotel, we stopped by Piazza San Marco for serenades under the near full moon.

And the band played on.

And the band played on at Piazza San Marco.

An appreciative crowd.

An appreciative crowd.

The next band played their music two restaurants away from the first band on Piazza San Marco.

The next band played their music two restaurants away from the first band on Piazza San Marco.

Another beautiful evening.

Another beautiful evening.

Goodnight San Marco Basin!

Goodnight San Marco Basin!

We had to get up early Wednesday morning to catch our flight – a water taxi straight from our hotel to the Marco Polo airport at 7:15am. David got dressed earlier and took to the streets with his camera for a last rendezvous of Piazza San Marco. All was quiet except for street cleaners and Asian brides and grooms posing for portrait photographers. David caught a fisherman casting off in San Marco Basin and docked, covered gondolas being swayed by the waters of the Adriatic Sea.

Early Wednesday morning quiet scene.

Early Wednesday morning quiet scene.

Looking across the serene San Marcos Basin early in the morning.

Looking across the serene San Marcos Basin early in the morning.

All's quiet at Piazza San Marco.

All’s quiet at Piazza San Marco.

As we watched the city skyline recede from our view as the water taxi whisked us away, we told the kids we’d be back again. Sooner than 18 years, but just not sure when. While I’ll admit I got only a few days of a full night’s sleep, this vacation was just what I needed. It was alternately invigorating and restful when I needed it to be.

Only early in the morning can you get a people-less view off of Piazza San Marco.

Only early in the morning can you get a people-less view off of Piazza San Marco.

Column detail with pigeon.

Column detail with seagull.

Best time to fish - early in the morning.

Best time to fish – early in the morning.

While she had a great time during the entire trip, Isabella has been anxious to get back to her rabbits and Rex. Jacob was genuinely sad for our holiday to end. While I have my novel to return to finish off with its impending August publish date as well as numerous responsibilities to attend to, I’m sad, too. I’ll admit to being tired of living out of a suitcase and I’m also anxious to return to family and friends, Rex and rabbits, the garden, and the routine of El Cerrito life, but I’m sad for this family and friends time to come to a close. It was truly a wonderful vacation that brought me back to places I’d missed and new adventures that I could never have imagined. I’m reinvigorated and understand how time is short and we must live life to its fullest, whether it be on vacation or in everyday life. But no matter where, life is around us to enjoy and celebrate. Arrivederci Venezia and Italia! I look forward to adventures at home as well as plans for our next vacation.

Good-bye Hotel Nuevo Teton.

Good-bye Hotel Nuovo Teson.

Venezia day 1: seeing its beauty sans the tourists

The quality of Venice that accomplishes what religion so often cannot is that Venice has made peace with the waters. It is not merely pleasant that the sea flows through, grasping the city like tendrils of vine, and, depending upon the light, making alleys and avenues of emerald and sapphire, the City is a brave acceptance of dissolution and an unflinching settlement with death. Though in Venice you may sit in courtyards of stone, and your heels may click up marble stairs, you cannot move without riding upon or crossing the waters that someday will carry you in dissolution to the sea.
 – Mark Helprin, American writer, from The Pacific and Other Stories

I was really sad to leave Piazza al Serchio and our wonderful villa. Again, I wished I had one more day. I would have spent it outdoors, reflecting by the pool with the Tuscan hills before me. I would have convinced David to drive around and look for perfect photographic opportunities. Aside from Roma, and despite objection from family and friends, the Internet connection for me here was faithful and I was able to catch up with my Firenze posts, though at a cost – less time to enjoy the view outside.

The best view that we could capture on our way down the mountainside.

The best view that we could capture on our way down the mountainside.

Well, again, that just means I must return. Our drive down the mountain was as beautiful as it was stomach churning for Jacob. I usually get carsick, but I think the beauty of the landscape was my antidote for carsickness. At any rate, I was disappointed we didn’t return the way we came because there is a spectacular stone bridge that I was hoping to capture. We did come across a beautiful and strange plateau and horses let loose on the streets on a quiet stretch of road.

When we turned a hairpin corner, we came upon a scene not unlike the scene in The Polar Express, but with horses instead of caribou.

When we turned a hairpin corner, we came upon a scene not unlike the scene in The Polar Express, but with horses instead of caribou.

We stop for horses, especially a delighted Isabella.

We, especially a delighted Isabella, stop for horses.

While I was looking forward to seeing Venezia again, I also had to brace myself for the onslaught of tourists and tour guides again. After such a peaceful time in the Tuscan mountains, this was a shock to the system. Not only that, but we had to deal with the outrageous prices that go hand in hand with a major tourist destination. That said, David was extremely relieved to return the rental car at the Marco Polo airport and surrender the Fiat keys and his driving duties.

Jacob enjoying the water taxi ride from the airport as we head into Venezia.

Jacob enjoying the water taxi ride from the airport as we head into Venezia.

Gondola, gondola!

Gondola, gondola!

Bridge of Sighs.

Bridge of Sighs.

David and me with the Bridge of Sighs in the background.

David and me with the Bridge of Sighs in the background.

Detail from the Bridge of Sighs.

Detail from the Bridge of Sighs.

Detail from another bridge.

Detail from another bridge.

Detail from a column in San Marco Square.

Detail from a column in Piazza San Marco.

Pigeon on head over archway in San Marco Square.

Pigeon on head over archway in Piazza San Marco.

Archway in San Marco Square.

Archway in Piazza San Marco.

Still, I was excited and charmed by the canals, the plentiful bridges, the lapping water, the old buildings of stone and peeling paint, the Doges Palace or Palazzo Ducale, and Piazza San Marco. Again, I wanted the kids to experience Venezia, so we went to the Museo Correr and the palace.

In the Museo Carter, a splendid ballroom.

In the Museo Correr, a splendid ballroom.

Detail of painting in the Museo Correr.

Detail of painting in the Museo Correr.

Another opulent room in the museum.

Another opulent room in the museum.

My kind of library - beautiful Venetian glass chandelier, wooden bookcases, and old books.

My kind of library – beautiful Venetian glass chandelier, wooden bookcases, and old books – in the museo.

Inside the courtyard of the Doges Palace or Palazzo Ducale.

Inside the courtyard of the Doges Palace or Palazzo Ducale.

The basilica behind the palazzo.

The basilica behind the palazzo.

The stairwell to this statue was closed off. David says he looks like Paul Newman.

The stairwell to this statue was closed off. David says he looks like Paul Newman.

Columns in the courtyard.

Columns in the courtyard.

A view across San Marco Basin from an upstairs window in the palazzo.

A view across San Marco Basin from an upstairs window in the palazzo.

The view prisoners got before retiring to their dank and windowless stone prison cells. They were heard to sigh, and that's why the bridge is called the Bridge of Sighs.

The view prisoners got before retiring to their dank and windowless stone prison cells. They were heard to sigh, and that’s why the bridge is called the Bridge of Sighs.

More courtyard ceiling.

More courtyard ceiling.

Back of statue from the now cordoned-off part of the balcony. Last visit we were able to access the area. Too bad.

Back of statue from the now cordoned-off part of the balcony. Last visit we were able to access the area. Too bad.

View of the San Marco Basin from atop the Palazzo Ducale.

View of the San Marco Basin from atop the Palazzo Ducale.

Our hotel, the Nuovo Teson, is right off of San Marco Basin, so we didn’t have to carry our roller bags too far (it’s against the law now to use roller luggage on the cobblestone streets of the city). Our room is teeny, but that’s part of the experience of Italy. We don’t have a great direct room with a view, but if I lean out of the window and face left, I can see water.

Our hotel.

Our hotel.

Our room with a view - to the right.

Our room with a view – to the right – the waters of San Marco Basin.

A tight squeeze!

A tight squeeze!

We had dinner right around the corner, in a restaurant called Venezia Al Vecio Portal, with a garden in the back. Of course, we had to order seafood, with David ordering squid and me ordering spaghetti seafood. We knew we picked well – with a recommendation from the hotel clerk – because while we were joined by tourists, we were surrounded by locals.

Stone cat on a stone bench near our table in the garden.

Stone cat on a stone bench near our table in the garden.

Spaghetti seafood.

Spaghetti seafood.

Still getting along after more than two weeks on vacation.

Still getting along after more than two weeks on vacation.

After dinner, which was after nine in the evening, we wandered through the maze of streets, away from the main arteries of the city. We came upon empty streets and quiet canals – all very lovely and soothing. This is how I wanted to enjoy the city. And I got my wish.

Note: Venezia during the week is quiet after 10pm.

Note: Venezia during the week is quiet after 10pm.

Venezia as I wanted to see it.

Venezia as I wanted to see it.