Category Archives: Family and Friends

Inspiration from family and friends

Fall health maintenance

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The first wealth is health.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson, American essayist, lecturer, and poet, who led the Transcendentalist movement of the mid-19th century

Fall weather attire just before the temperatures dropped recently.

Fall weather attire just before the temperatures dropped recently.

Every fall I make appointments to keep up with my overall health maintenance. Because I had a couple of abnormal mammograms, the last one resulting in a biopsy two Halloweens ago, I’ve been recommended to get a mammogram every year. I don’t like the procedure and I ignored the letters that I got over the summer reminding me to make my appointment. Although I procrastinate, I understand the potential risks for me, which outweighs the discomfort, and so I dutifully have the procedure done every fall.

I also get a Pap smear every year. My nurse practitioner (NP) is quick to remind me that I only need to have it done every three years, per the 2012 guidelines released by the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force and the American Cancer Society for women aged 21 to 65, which are based on current, available scientific evidence. (The guidelines recommend that women under 21 and over 65 need not take the test at all.) That may be the case, but here’s a cautionary tale: several years ago, the results of a Pap smear for Fiona, one of the moms in my mom’s group, revealed that she had cervical cancer. She went through chemotherapy, and I’m happy to say that she is in remission and looks great. At the time of Fiona’s diagnosis, I told her what my NP advised. And she responded, “Patty, if I had followed the guidelines and her advice, I’d be dead.”

A colorful bold "tribal" necklace serves as the centerpiece to pull the rest of the outfit together.

A colorful bold “tribal” necklace serves as the centerpiece to pull the rest of the outfit together.

Now, if I were told that I didn’t have to get a mammogram every year, I would run with it because not only would I be spared the extreme discomfort (given my lack of tissue) under the scanning machine but I would be spared the unnecessary radiation. While the sight of stirrups and speculum for the Pap smear procedure still makes me twitch, a quick swab doesn’t expose me to any harm. I suspect the issues in this case are the scarcity of resources, which is tied to lack of access to healthcare services, and spiraling costs. These issues are what I see every day in my profession, so the importance is not lost on me. Maybe this will be my last Pap smear until 2017. It’s a conversation I’ll have with my NP next month, although honestly I can’t think about the procedure without thinking about my friend Fiona.

Bold jewelry for a colorful fall: Anthropologie necklace, Lava 9 wooden earrings (Berkeley, CA), fan ring (Eskell, Chicago), and Angela Cummings sterling silver ring (Urbanity, Berkeley).

Bold jewelry for a colorful fall: Anthropologie necklace, Lava 9 wooden earrings (Berkeley, CA), fan ring (Eskell, Chicago), and Angela Cummings sterling silver ring (Urbanity, Berkeley).

I had my eye examination a couple of weeks ago after getting a notice that my last exam was two years ago. At that time, two years ago, I had racked up years of staring at my computer screen for hours at a stretch. My once 20-20 vision had succumbed to blurry vision at any distance long after I had shut down my laptop. I was especially worried when my vision was blurry while I was behind the wheel. In addition to the vagaries of technology, I thought age was another reason for my failing eyes. Two years ago, my new optometrist surprised me by assuring me that age was not a factor. The culprit was my computer screen and the remedy was taking frequent breaks to exercise my eye muscles, which were locked in to one position. I can’t say that I took frequent breaks, as the adage applies – habits are hard to break.

Since I shifted from writing most of the white papers and case studies on my job to overseeing a cadre of freelance writers, my eyesight has improved markedly because I’m not staring at the computer screen for long periods of time. My other tasks require me to be on the phone a lot for conference calls and meetings, so I can look away. What a difference that makes! I still require reading glasses while on the computer or reading, but the power – .125 – hasn’t changed at all. Bottom line is that I don’t have the blurry eyesight anymore at longer distances. At my most recent appointment, my younger optometrist pooh-poohed age as the reason for degrading eye sight – ah, how casual youth can be! And yet, after reading the eye charts and enduring sticky eye drops and the light-piercing tests, I was deemed to have 20-20 vision, which was refreshing news. So I offer this: If you have to be in front of a computer screen, it really does pay to look away often and to stand up and walk around (this is for relief for your back and legs), if moving around I the only way to stop staring at your screen.

Time to say goodbye to lightweight cotton separates, but we'll keep the jeans and throw on booties and boots as winter approaches.

Time to say goodbye to lightweight cotton separates, but we’ll keep the jeans and throw on booties and boots as winter approaches.

My next examination is for my teeth, my poor abused teeth. In my introduction to my dentist to the history of my teeth, I’ll quickly rush through, out of embarrassment, the pounds of sour Jelly Bellies I consumed during the four-month crunch of conference projects that went on for about five or so years. The sugar falsely kept me up for those all-nighters I pulled, and popping them into my mouth gave my twitching arm something to do while the rest of my body stressed out. I have learned my lesson when my gums started to bleed and stopped consuming them cold turkey, but I’m still dealing with the effects on my teeth.

We may have abused our bodies through the years in the name of work, family, and other demands, but we can stop the abuse and reverse – even if it’s just a fraction – the damage that we’ve wrought. They key is to recognize the destructive behavior and change it for the better with good habits. And the other key is to schedule regular check-ups to ensure that you’re staying on track with living a healthful life.

Galway Kinnell: words that last

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It’s the poet’s job to figure out what’s happening within oneself, to figure out the connection between the self and the world, and to get it down in words that have a certain shape, that have a chance of lasting.
– Galway Kinnell, in an interview with Elizabeth Lund, The Christian Science Monitor Online, about his then-unfinished poem, “When the Towers Fell,” October 25, 2001

Galway Kinnell, 1927-2014.

Galway Kinnell, 1927-2014.

This past Tuesday, October 28th, Galway Kinnell passed away at his home in Vermont at the age of 87. The Pulitzer Prize and American Book Award winner, who also served as poet laureate for the state of Vermont from 1989 to 1993, succumbed to leukemia. When the news hit, I stopped what I was doing to read moving eulogies about this giant of a poet. Admittedly, I knew more of him and his reputation than I had read of his poems. He was a professor at NYU – he retired in 2011 – when I applied and was accepted into NYU’s creative writing program back in 1988. I didn’t go, though I had desperately wanted to, because I had no money, coming off of two years as a volunteer in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. The only programs I could consider were the ones that were going to pay my way through graduate school either through a teaching or research assistantship. I chose Syracuse, and more so because of the friendships I forged I am grateful for my time there.

That said, when I read that NYU’s creative writing students receive various fellowships, teaching positions, and stipends, I felt I had missed out. I thought about how different my life would have been had I gone to NYU with financial assistance. E.L. Doctorow was the head of the faculty for fiction and Kinnell for poetry. Had I attended NYU, I would have gone to Kinnell’s readings. I would have been surrounded by intimate interpreters and been privy to backstories only available to those around him. I would have had a deeper connection to the praise heaped upon the fallen poet. Instead, I felt as if I were standing outside a gate, looking in.

I listened to recordings of him reciting his poems, particularly one of his well-known poems, “After Making Love We Hear Footsteps,” about his then-young son, Fergus. While I was drawn to the vivid images of the boy crashing his parents’ post-intimacy and nestling in between his parents, I was touched by the music of his words and how they shaped those moments that conveyed such love for this tiny being:

In the half darkness we look at each other
and smile
and touch arms across this little, startlingly muscled body–
this one whom habit of memory propels to the ground of his
making,
sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake,
this blessing love gives again to our arms.

Only poetry has that power, yes?

Best photo ever of Galway Kinnell, by Richard Brown (c).

A poignant and beautiful black-and-white moment: best photo ever of Galway Kinnell, by Richard Brown (c).

Kinnell was immersed in life. He supported the antiwar movement, civil rights, environmental causes, and freedom of expression in repressive countries. In 1963, he worked for the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE, which was also actively supporting the farm workers’ struggles during the grape strikes in Delano in the 1960s). He traveled to Louisiana to help register blacks to vote, an act that landed him in jail. He felt that the job of poets was to “bear witness,” and he did so as a participant, not an observer. Kinnell once said, “To me, poetry is somebody standing up, so to speak, and saying, with as little concealment as possible, what it is for him or her to be on earth at this moment.” Plain-spoken, big-hearted, Kinnell, not surprisingly, was an admirer, a follower, of Walt Whitman. He forged his own way with poetry, and he embraced what was before him. He embraced everything.

While I’ll never have the opportunity to meet him or hear him read in person, it’s never too late to start reading the work of someone whom I should have been reading more deeply, whom I should have been reading at all. We are all immersed in a world that is spinning much too fast. We ourselves are spinning, forced to choose among objects enormous and imperceptible that are swirling around us, coming in and out of our sight, every waking moment: what among the trillion things out there will I allow to matter in my life? What am I missing when I blink or turn my head?

Is it the irony or the saving grace of death – that he will no longer shape words or recite them in his deep and solemn voice but with the news of his passing I have discovered his words as if new, will trace his connection between himself and the world, between all of us and the world, and because of that exploration his poems will sing in my head, become a part of my memory, for years to come?

I have always intended to live forever;
but not until now, to live now. The moment
I have done one or the other, I here swear,
no one will have to drag me, I’ll come
but never will I agree to burn my words.
(from “The Seekonk Woods“)

Rest in peace, Galway Kinnell.

National Filipino-American History Month: exploring our diaspora

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Men who had poetry in their soul come silently into the world and live quietly down the years, and yet when they are gone no moon in the sky is lucid enough to compare with the light they shed when they are among the living. – Carlos Bulosan, Filipino-American novelist and poet, Charlie Chan is Dead: An Anthology of Contemporary Asian American Fiction

I just finished watching a video celebrating the Asian American and Asian Diaspora Studies Program at the University of California at Berkeley, which I found while exploring the meaning of Asian and Pacific Islander diasporas. I’ve always been intrigued with the word “diaspora,” which I’d first come across many years ago in a flyer describing an independent film about displaced Africans. For me, what it boils down to is a search for identity when you are no longer home – whether you were forced out or felt you had to leave your homeland – but with the circumstances of your flight greatly informing the process of identification and the identity or identities you take on.

Diaspora literally means “Jews living outside Israel, the dispersion of Jews beyond Israel, the dispersion of any people from their original homeland.” It’s a state of disruptive being and one that is, of course, constantly evolving. I’ve been refining my query letter for my novel, A Village in the Fields, adding or deleting historical facts or descriptions of my novel as I personalize each query for the intended literary agent. But one description that I have kept throughout all of the queries is this:

“This novel encompasses more than the Filipino farm workers’ struggles in the fields. It also chronicles the Filipino community that my father and his cousins built in the farming town of Terra Bella in the Central Valley. Upon examining their lives, I found that as immigrants my father and his cousins were trying to determine what home is and who encompassed their concept of family when they were far away from home. I sought to answer those questions through my characters, in particular my protagonist, Fausto Empleo, whose story is at the heart of A Village in the Fields.”

Filipino immigrants leaving the ship that brought them to America (photo credit: everyculture.com).

Filipino immigrants leaving the ship that brought them to America (photo credit: everyculture.com).

October is National Filipino American month, and this year I’m celebrating it with yet another excerpt from my novel, with an eye toward diaspora. In this scene Fausto recounts to his nurse, Arturo, the boat ride that took him from Manila to Seattle in 1929:

Fausto took comfort in his cabin mates—four others besides Benny. Three had cousins or uncles waiting for them in America. Vermil Bienvenido spoke good English. He had worked in hotels in Manila and was counting on making more money in the American hotels. Ambo Ayson’s uncle had a restaurant job waiting for him in New York City. Arsenio Magsaysay hailed from Santa Maria, ten kilometers north of San Esteban. As he rolled cigarettes made from his family-grown tobacco for his cabin mates, he told them he expected his work in the fields would serve him well on American farms. Vermil and Arsenio were going to return home rich. Ambo wanted to remain in the States but visit his hometown, bringing gifts for his nine sisters, his parents, and grandparents. Everyone’s heart was still in the Philippines, except for Jun Villanueva.

Jun didn’t talk much, but one evening when Arsenio spoke longingly of his family’s land, Jun cut him off, blurting out that there was no future in his hometown of San Fernando. When Jun declared he would never return because he hated his country, his cabin mates wanted to fight him—even Fausto. It was as if he had spit on their mothers! Fausto calmed down and convinced the others to go up deck to cool their heads so he could talk to Jun. With just the two of them in the cabin, Jun complained that the rice they served on the ship had too much grit. His mother milled rice with a mortar and pestle, which made it taste more fragrant. Fausto told him the rice would be better once they got off the ship, but Jun said it would always taste bitter in his mouth. His family had lost their fields to harsh weather, which ruined their crops, and cheating agents who made it impossible to make a living off of the harvests. The new landlords overcharged, but his parents conceded just so they could stay on his lelong’s land.

“I told him he did not hate his country,” Fausto said to Arturo. “The people in power were dishonest. I told him he would realize that—maybe not now, but later—when he is in America and he grows homesick. I admitted I was already homesick.”

Fausto massaged his eyelids, bringing up an image of the teenaged boy who sat rigid in the bunk opposite him. Jun’s face and body were angular and hard. His eyes, mere slits, told everybody he trusted no one. The part in his hair was severe, a white streak. But when Fausto told him his homesickness was their secret, the hardness melted away. Jun yanked the bunk’s wool blanket over his head and began wailing.

“There is no shame in being scared or angry.” Fausto pulled the blanket down and locked his hand on Jun’s knee, which Jun had pulled up and tucked under his chin.

“If they had not taken our land, I would not be here!”

“Astun, astun,” Fausto said softly. “You will get it back. You put your anger to hard work in America, eh? Then you return. But you are tired, you need to rest.”

“I cannot stay here. They all hate me.” Jun sat up, amid the empty bunks.

Fausto promised to talk to them; they would understand his family’s hardships. Jun lay down, crossing his arms, but when Fausto patted his hand, Jun grabbed it and held tight. Neither of them moved. As Fausto watched Jun sleep, he thought of what they had left behind. His life in San Esteban was not so bad after all. Homesickness gnawed a hole in his stomach, but he wove his fingers with Jun’s until they were entwined.

Benny and the others offered Jun extra bread and fruit that they had smuggled out of the kitchen, but Jun wouldn’t accept them. Fausto didn’t know what happened to him when they landed in Seattle and parted ways. When he was working near Stockton years later, a pinoy on his asparagus crew told him about a pinoy named Jun Villanueva. The two Villanuevas shared similar stories from back home. At the time he heard this story, the American government had passed a law giving pinoys free passage to return to the Philippines. Not many took it. Fausto later found out that if a pinoy accepted the offer, he could never return to America. This Villanueva had gotten into trouble up and down California, fighting with whites and pinoys alike and landing in jail. He took the free passage, bragging to anyone who would listen that he was glad to be leaving.

“You think it was the Jun from your ship?” Arturo was on his second cup of coffee.

“When I heard the story, I hoped it was not him,” Fausto said. “I did not want to think he had no place to call home. When we landed, he said he wanted to keep in touch. I gave him the address in Los Angeles where my cousins lived, but I never heard from him again.” Fausto stared into his cup, his watery black reflection now cold. “Last time I saw him he was walking off the pier. But he looked like any of us leaving the ship. He was all of us leaving the ship.”

Farm workers in an asparagus delta farm in California, circa early 1930s (photo credit: Frank Mancao).

Farm workers in an asparagus delta farm in California, circa early 1930s (photo credit: Frank Mancao).

Portia Lee: compassionate acupuncturist

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Take care of yourself – you never know when the world will need you.
– Rabbi Hillel, Jewish religious leader, associated with the development of the Mishnah and the Talmud

I first came to Portia Lee (6931 Stockton Avenue, El Cerrito, CA 94530, 510.799.8788) in May of 2012, seeking relief from sciatica, which I had been suffering from since my first pregnancy 15 years ago. I was drawn to her focus on women’s health, including menstrual disorders, menopause, infertility, and prenatal and postnatal care. My sciatica has been under control ever since my visit, and I continue to see Portia for a number of physical ailments, which she has successfully treated or kept in check. More importantly, her compassion for her patients is the main reason I remain an enthusiastic patient.

Portia Lee, acupuncturist extraordinaire.

Portia Lee, acupuncturist extraordinaire.

Compassion and working with people
That deep compassion, nurtured when she was young, led her to where she is now. While her parents – her mother is a 4th generation Chinese and her father grew up in the Philippines – were not traditional, as a child Portia adopted her maternal grandmother’s use of herbs and herb-infused soups to treat illness and soon began creating concoctions with herbs and other plants. Although interested in acupuncture, having been treated as a teenager, she instead earned her degree in English literature and settled in Paris, working with students and professors as the cultural program director at the American University of Paris. “I knew I wanted to work with people,” she recalled.

After six years, however, Portia began researching acupuncture programs. When she returned to the States and began coursework toward her graduate degree at the American College of Traditional Chinese Medicine in San Francisco, she said, “I knew this was it – it was really resonating with me.” She received her MS in traditional Chinese Medicine and apprenticed for many years under Dr. Robert Johns, whom she credits for having enriched her practice.

Portia has been practicing acupuncture for 14 years, starting out in a chiropractor’s office after earning her license and then working with homeless people at drug rehabilitation clinics in San Francisco. She began her private practice on the side until she established her business in El Cerrito nine years ago. “What impassions me about my work is the people,” Portia said. “I feel that my work has very little to do with me and everything to do with my patients. I can be there, be open and listen, and somehow reflect in a positive way.”

Portia at her office.

Portia at her office.

Seeking self-awareness
and balance
Many of Portia’s clients deal with infertility or pain, each requiring different processes and treatments. Regardless of the case, Portia said, “What I hope to do is to bring about more self-awareness in a person. It’s something I’m constantly cultivating in myself as best as I can.” While we often don’t have control over many aspects of our lives, she countered, sometimes we can be empowered to believe that change is possible and thus shift things in a positive way. “Acupuncture needles are, perhaps, one way to do that,” Portia explained. “I think of them as a medium for creating positive energy, positive change in a small way that has a ripple effect.”

With acupuncture and the philosophy of Chinese medicine predicated on yin and yang, Portia hopes to help shift that state of being for patients who are dealing with imbalance in their lives or are in a state of discomfort. “I observe how events in life balance themselves out and everything is relative to each other – with varying degrees,” she said. “Understanding the philosophy has been very helpful to me because I work with balancing yin and yang and recognize it more in everyday events.”

Portia shared with me a Zen tale about a farmer and his son whose horse has run off. When a neighbor says to the farmer, “I’m so sorry, that’s awful,” the farmer responds, “”Well, maybe. We’ll see.” When the horse returns with a herd of horses, the neighbor exclaims how lucky the farmer is, but the farmer responds, “We’ll see. It could be good or bad.” The next day the farmer’s son breaks his leg while riding one of the horses. The neighbor gives his condolences to the farmer, and the farmer responds, “Well, we’ll see. It could be good or bad.” The following day the army comes to the farmer’s house to enlist his son, but his son’s broken leg prevents him from being conscripted. “Things ebb and flow,” Portia concluded. “You can never tell whether an event, which may at first seem awful, may lead to an opportunity that might have never arisen.”

A familiar figure at Portia's office - Merlin, the family dog.

A familiar figure at Portia’s office – Merlin, the family dog.

Finding balance in her own life
When she was in her twenties, Portia was a human version of the Eveready Bunny – she was always in motion. Before she left for Paris, her co-workers at the local public broadcasting station KQED wrote in her going-away card such sentiments as “I hope you slow down enough to actually be able to see some things,” Portia related and laughed. Her first acupuncturist warned her against pushing herself to the point of exhaustion. “I was the type of person who worked really hard, pushed really hard,” she recalled. Studying and becoming a practitioner of Chinese medicine changed Portia’s life and her outlook on her life. “Chinese medicine has made me a healthier person,” she said. “It has – hopefully – given me longevity because I’ve had to slow down to become more self-aware.”

Portia pointed out that our society is very yang – we are too focused on achieving and how much we can get done. “But you can’t do that without rest and recovery,” she insisted. In the past 14 years, she has learned to literally lie down and recuperate and reenergize, and just as important, not feel guilty about it. “In my work, I can’t be exhausted,” she said. “I need to rest and eat to replenish and refuel in order to be present and aware for people.”

For relaxation, Portia practices chi gong, which literally means life energy cultivation and is a form of standing meditation that helps harness “the infinite energy on this earth” to rebuild and restore oneself. Chi is the yang aspect of blood and gives the blood the ability to circulate through the body. “It’s often translated as energy, although that’s not its direct translation,” she explained. She and her husband also exercise together and check in with one another.

Empowering ourselves
I asked Portia for advice on how we can take care of ourselves outside of acupuncture visits. She advocates self-care in the form of a healthful diet, exercise, rest – both nighttime sleep and daytime nap – and time for oneself and family and friends. Portia counsels her patients to practice moderation, which all comes back to seeking self-awareness and balance. With dieting, for example, she points out that what we want and what we can’t have is merely an illusion. “If we can strip that illusion, we can advance from a state of deprivation to a state of empowerment,” she asserted. “The majority of people know what’s good for us and what’s not good for us. In a healthy state, we should be able to tolerate a little bit of everything. Being too restrictive can be just as unhealthy as allowing yourself anything you want. Again, it’s a matter of balance.”

Taking a break with Merlin.

Taking a break with Merlin.

Portia also entreats us to not take things too seriously. “Don’t worry about the past or the future – be in the moment,” she advised. “If you’re in the moment, everything is actually okay at this time.”

Portia’s optimism is uplifting. “As I age, I really feel like almost anything we want is really possible,” she said. “Not that we always have control over everything, but we do have more power over how our lives manifest and present than we give ourselves credit for.” Thus, an attitude of believing that anything’s possible opens the door for changes to any condition or situation. “It’s important to have that possibility,” Portia declared. “When you come to see somebody [for treatment], it’s possible to feel better. For prognoses, it can be true or it cannot be true; it can never be 100 percent.” Therefore, one must always foster hope.

In the end, it’s Portia’s heart – her compassion – that helps her patients to heal. She is an admirer of Gabor Maté, MD, a Hungarian-born Canadian physician whose body of work supports his belief in the connection between mind and body health. Maté, who specializes in the study and treatment of addiction, has shed light on patterns seen in certain diseases and painful conditions. He has noted that our culture is very addictive. “We’re all so similar in that way,” Portia pointed out, having come to that conclusion while working at the drug rehabilitation clinics. “Our society tends to think that if you’re a workaholic that’s a good trait, whereas if you’re a drug addict, that’s really bad,” she said, shaking her head. “We’re all human,” Portia said simply. “There’s very little difference when it really comes down to it. We need the compassion, understanding, and humanity in all of us.” Amen to that.

The Gratitude Challenge: 7 days of thoughtful gratitude

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Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.
– A.A. Milne, English author and poet, from Winnie the Pooh

I got on Facebook to help promote my writing, but I soon discovered that it connected me with friends both near and far-flung, friends from my deep past to recent acquaintances. I rarely participate  in the chain-letter-type activities that make the rounds on Facebook. I read about the Gratitude Challenge being taken on by a number of friends and was soon nominated by my good friend Laurel Kallenbach. With my participation now concluded, I share my seven days of gratitude here on my blog.

Day 1 – baseball is life, life is baseball
Thank you, Laurel Kallenbach, for nominating me for the Gratitude Challenge. I was nominated to list 3 things I’m grateful for every day for a week and nominate 3 people each day to do the same. Today, September 21st, is my first day (baseball gratitude theme) and I nominate Jack Beaudoin, Kara De La Paz, and Cecie Uytingco Mendoza.

1. I am grateful for David, who told me to go ahead and go to the baseball game today and he would do the tons of laundry and cleaning today and watch Isabella and her friend Kelly.

2. I am grateful for Jacob, who said, “Mom, I want to go to the game with you.” (Because David and Isabella didn’t want to.) I’m grateful that he still wants to spend time with me, even though he’s a teenager, and that we have more meaningful conversations and discussions.

3. I am grateful that my last regular-season Oakland A’s game that I attended this year ended with a win, which allowed us to celebrate with the crazy right-field bleacher loyal fans. “Never Quit” and “Keep Fighting”

Spontaneous partners in crime: our friends Robert and his son, Sasha, join us in cheering the 10th-inning walk-off home run win.

Spontaneous partners in crime: our friends Robert and his son, Sasha, join us in the right-field bleachers. At the moment all seems glum, but soon we will be cheering the 10th-inning walk-off home run by Josh Donaldson, aka The Bringer of Rain (Photo credit: Mike DeMay – thanks, Mike!).

Day 2 – labor day
I was nominated to list 3 things I’m grateful for every day for a week and nominate 3 people each day to do the same. Today, September 22nd, is Day 2 (Work gratitude theme, appropriately for a Monday) and I nominate Gordon Hunt, Eric Wicklund, and Diana Manos for the Gratitude Challenge.

1. I’m grateful to have great, hardworking colleagues around me to get the job done. Even though I work remotely, I am part of a great team who appreciates and supports what I do.

2. I’m grateful to work at home and be there for my kids – like the time both had pneumonia two winters ago, separate times, of course, and both were out of school for two weeks each. Did not have to eat up vacation days. Working at home also allows me to walk Isabella to school every morning.

3. I’m especially grateful for my geriatric companion, Rex, who keeps me company in the nearby library. While he’s not a great personal assistant, at least he sleeps most of the day and lets me get my work done. I can’t imagine my work day without him.

Rex ready for a Monday morning.

Rex ready for a Monday morning.

Day 3 – supporting our public schools
I was nominated to list 3 things I’m grateful for every day for a week and nominate 3 people each day to do the same. Today, September 23rd, is Day 3 (school gratitude) and I nominate Juliet Jamsheed, Daniel Philippe, and Denise Portello Evans.

1. I attended my first Investing in Academic Excellence meeting at El Cerrito High School last night, and I’m really excited to help this important organization raise funds for various school initiatives. I am grateful for the ECHS families who are working really hard for the school – the new families I’m meeting and the good friends whom I’ve known for years and whose end of journey together is less than four years away. I’m grateful that Jacob is off to a great start as a freshman there and has some inspirational teachers and a solid principal.

2. I am grateful for the two years we concluded at Portola Middle School (Korematsu now). We had two really wonderful teachers who have made a lasting impression on Jacob and a hardworking principal. Looking forward to returning there next year, in the new campus.

3. We are finishing up 10 years at Harding Elementary School this year. While I’m excited about finally leaving elementary school, I am forever grateful for the inspirational teachers and the many wonderful families and friends I’ve met and worked with on behalf of the school. I’ve made life-long friends and I’ve watched some pretty special kids grow up with my kids.

A Harding tradition: getting families together for a potluck after the last day of school. Here with friends Tana and Lori after our kids finished up fifth grade, celebrating at Arlington Park.

A Harding Elementary School tradition: getting families together for a potluck after the last day of school. Here with friends Tana and Lori, watching our kids, who finished fifth grade, play at Arlington Park this past June.

Day 4 – or purpose in life: giving back
I was nominated to list 3 things I’m grateful for every day for a week and nominate 3 people each day to do the same. I just read an article on Melinda Gates and her work with the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and was inspired by her desire to make the world better. Today, September 24th, is Day 4 (giving and helping others theme) and I nominate Anja Hakoshima, Kimi Ynigues, and Kathy Brackett.

1. I am grateful for the work that my friend Jane Fischberg and her colleagues do at Rubicon Programs, whose mission is to “prepare low-income people to achieve financial independence and to partner with people with mental illness on their journey of recovery.” Especially in this current political climate, supporting both groups is not very popular, making their work even more challenging. But my friend Jane has a big heart and strong resolve. In an interview with me, she said, “I really do believe in giving back and I feel like a life of not giving back is not fulfilling. I’ve always felt the reason for living is to be of service, so that informed what I’ve always done.”

2. I am grateful for the work that my friend Alissa Hauser and her colleagues do at The Pollination Project, whose mission is to “expand compassion to the planet, people, and animals.” The Pollination Project’s mission aligns with Alissa’s philosophy: “What I’m most committed to is creating more kindness and compassion in the world,” she said. “There are so many ways to do it; there are so many ways I have done it. But at the end of the day, I just want to be a person who inspires other people to be nice to one another, no matter who they are or what they’ve done.”

3. I am grateful for my daughter, Isabella, who also has a big heart. She and her friends have baked cookies and made lemonade to sell at various parks to raise money for the Milo Foundation. She talks about wanting to save endangered animals, rescuing dogs from being put down, saving the earth from the harm that we do to it, and more. I want to continue nurturing in her that desire of giving and helping others.

Isabella and her friends have been selling cookies and lemonade for the Milo Foundation.

Isabella and her friends have been selling cookies and lemonade for the Milo Foundation.

Day 5 – our Indian summer fall
I was nominated to list 3 things I’m grateful for every day for a week and nominate 3 people each day to do the same. Today, September 25th, is Day 5 (Nature theme) and I nominate Rose Cee, David Bruce-Casares, and Claire Richardson.

1. I am grateful for the rain that woke me up early this morning. While we have a long way to go to erase California’s drought, it’s a start, an early one at that.

2. I am grateful for the maple leaves changing color, announcing autumn’s return. The display is definitely not as spectacular as the leaves changing in the Northeast or other parts of the country, but all I need is a golden ginkgo and a flaming red and orange maple tree and I’m ready to celebrate one of my favorite seasons.

3. I am grateful for the small resurgence of my garden, which was stricken with powdery mildew in late July and pretty much petered out and left me with charred buds and dried-out sticks. However, with our Indian summer in full force, the carnations, fuschia, scabiosas, and poppies are bursting from their pots – a final send-off and blast of cream, purple, pink, red and white ripples.

Indian summer autumn bouquet.

Indian summer autumn bouquet.

Day 6 – TGIF
I was nominated to list 3 things I’m grateful for every day for a week and nominate 3 people each day to do the same. Today, September 26th, is Day 6 (TGIF theme) and I nominate John Buettner, Julie Redlin, and Maria Francesca.

1. I am grateful for my pumpkin-spiced chai latte that gets me through the mornings. My day starts on East coast time, so by the time I sit down to eat my breakfast and begin work again, I have already gone through my work e-mail and immediate, deadline-oriented work tasks, done my exercises and ridden my bike, walked Rex, and dropped off Isabella at school. The moment I settle into my office chair and sip my chai latte, I literally catch my second wind.

2. I am grateful for the mellow glass of red wine that will help me unwind in the evening. It’s something I look forward to when Friday evening hits and the work week is behind me.

3. I am grateful for a quiet Friday evening, watching the A’s win and now enjoying the rest of the fall evening with David and Isabella.

Even Rex is chillin' on an autumn Friday evening.

Even Rex is chillin’ on an autumn Friday evening.

Day 7 – a writer’s heart-felt thank you
I was nominated to list 3 things I’m grateful for every day for a week and nominate 3 people each day to do the same. Today, September 27th, is my last day, Day 7 (writer’s gratitude), and I nominate Yoko Morita, Alex Davis, and Nancy Donovan.

1. I am grateful for discovering and embracing the written word and the many gifts it brings – the sentence that dances, the character who enrages you, the places you can taste and touch, the moment created that brings you to a moment of truth in your past, the page that keeps you turning it, the book that leaves you bereft because the magic has ended.

2. I am grateful for the community of writers I have met throughout my life and call my friends, mentors, fellow writers, and careful readers – you know who you are, but a special shout out to Jack Beaudoin, Laurel Kallenbach, John Farrell, and Sands Hall.

3. I am grateful for my non-writer friends and family who have nurtured me in so many different ways – as careful readers, muses, emotional supporters, and more – you know who you are, too, but a special shout out to Kathy Brackett and David, always.

John, me, and Jack with our "author poses" at the Orange Grove, Syracuse University, 1990.

John, me, and Jack with our “author poses” at the Orange Grove, Syracuse University, 1990.

This exercise made me realize how many things, events, and people I am grateful for every day but oftentimes in the rush of the day I don’t reflect fully or give appropriate props. I’ll remember this challenge and remind myself every evening, during a quiet moment before I retire for the night, to look back on my day and give gratitude. Thanks again, Laurel, for the nomination!

In praise of a good story.

In praise of a good story – both reading one and writing one (door sign given to me by my college and good friend Susie Merrill many, many moons ago, which still holds a prominent place in my office).

Welcome autumn, welcome nostalgia

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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
– John Donne, English metaphysical poet and preacher, from The Autumnal, The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose

Today is the first day of autumn, and although I had a wonderful, lazy, meandering, full summer, I look forward to everything autumn brings. I love the leaves changing color, the shifting slant of light in the mornings and early evenings, the slow sipping of pumpkin-spiced chai lattes, the ritual of decorating the house with pumpkins, the fall classic (post-season baseball), pulling out thick sweaters and scarves not seen since last winter, the quiet evenings in front of the fire, the beginning of the march of holidays that seem to come one after the other, leaving us breathless.

We still have our Indian summer, so summer attire is required for the mild autumn days. Cropped jeans, striped and sparkle-embellished t-shirt, flats, and a bright pop of red in a big handbag for jetting around on busy weekends.

We have our Indian summer, so warm-weather attire works well for our mild autumn days. Throw on cuffed jeans, striped and sparkle-embellished t-shirt, flats with curves for an interesting detail, and a bright pop of red in a big handbag for jetting around on busy weekends.

The seasons come and go. Now I have a freshman in high school and a daughter in sixth grade, her last year of elementary school. The weeks and weekends are stuffed with work, writing and reading, school, community and school meetings, extracurricular activities and sports for the kids and the accompanying chauffeuring that goes with many of these kid activities. I harken back to the time when the kids were in preschool and day care, and our autumn weekends were as wide open as a golden meadow. Little did we know that those days were numbered once sports and school overtook our lives.

Jacob in the pumpkin patch, Fall 2001.

Jacob, at 15 months, in the pumpkin patch, Fall 2001.

I remember a Saturday in September when we drove two hours north to Hopland in Mendocino County because our neighbor told us it was a nice place to visit. The destination didn’t quite live up to the bucolic charm we’d been expecting, but I remember the warm sun, the light flickering in between the dancing leaves of the trees along the road, the leisurely drive, turning around and seeing the kids’ faces – full of wonder – as they wriggled in their car seats. Car seats.

Isabella's turn in the pumpkin patch, 9 months, September 2003.

Isabella’s turn in the pumpkin patch, 9 months, September 2003.

We checked out Real Goods, the Solar Living Institute’s storefront, and bought lunch at a main street deli and ate it amid a strip of turn-of-the-century buildings. I remembered feeling like we were in the wild, wild west, and at any moment tumbleweeds would mix in with the falling leaves. As we returned home, the kids nodding off  to sleep in the back of the car, I thought, we’ll have to do another fall drive to another small, quaint town. Of course, we never did.

Complementing the bird embellishments on my shirt: Carmela Rose earrings, Sundance stack of rings, Angela Cummings statement ring (Urbanity, Berkeley, CA), and Se Vende Imports (Portland, ME) bracelet.

Complementing the bird embellishments on my shirt: Carmela Rose earrings (Jenny K, El Cerrito, CA), Sundance stack of rings, Angela Cummings statement ring (Urbanity, Berkeley, CA), and Se Vende Imports (Portland, ME) bracelet.

Each season, then, becomes more important, more urgent. This is clear to me as I watch Isabella find the perfect spot around the house for each glass, resin, and paper mache pumpkin that she pulls out from the plastic tub marked “Fall decorations,” which I hauled from the attic. She carefully sets the porcelain characters around the Department 56 Sleepy Hollow village atop our living room television armoire. Soon we will pull down the tub marked “Halloween decorations” and discuss which artistic designs the kids will want David to carve for their pumpkins. Our sun-damaged plastic skeleton is hanging by a thread, but still the kids insist on having David tie it to the bistro chair and table on our front balcony.

The ginkgo tree, which we planted in the backyard when Jacob was a baby, is slowly rising above the protection and warmth of the surrounding homes. Soon the cold night air will turn the leaves golden in November, not December. Isabella and I will gather leaves to put in the clear glass pumpkin that sits on the kitchen sideboard. We switch off hosting Thanksgiving dinner with David’s sister, and this year, we play host. Jacob and Isabella are looking forward to seeing their cousins, especially their older cousin, Nick. “We have to see cousin Joshua, cousin Nick, and Grant,” they both insist to me with urgency, “because we won’t see them when they go away to college.” It startles me, this urgency that they feel, an urgency reserved for adults, for adults who get nostalgic when the seasons change.

Kate Spade bright red handbag and GeeWaWa flats with great scrollwork detail make the jewelry stand out.

Kate Spade bright red handbag and GeeWaWa flats with great scrollwork detail make the jewelry stand out.

Jacob hasn’t been trick-or-treating in years, and this is Isabella’s last year, with sixth grade being our milestone for the end of that childhood custom. I’m grateful that the kids still willingly partake in autumn traditions and enjoy the season as much as I do. We can still plan an autumn drive to a quaint town and enjoy the turn of the leaves. There is still time, I tell myself, there is still time.