Category Archives: Family and Friends

Inspiration from family and friends

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saying goodbye to Lino

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They say that breaking up is hard to do.
Now I know, I know that it’s true.
– Neil Sedaka, American composer, pianist, and singer

We didn’t really break up. He just never called back. Well, in December, the last time I saw him, he told me – when we parted – to “just text” him and he’d get back to me with his decision. But he never did. I know how to get a hold of him. I know where he lives. But as the days stretched into weeks, and I still did not hear from him, I realized the inevitability of our relationship and that this was probably the best time to move on.

Giving this man my hair
I was introduced to Lino in 1991, upon recommendation by a couple of my coworkers who raved about him. I furtively checked out my publisher’s hairstyle – a swingy pageboy style precisely cut. My marketing manager’s hair was layered and softly feathered. It showed me how versatile Lino was. His salon was in the heart of Union Square. His partner in business, who was also his partner in life, enthusiastically greeted me upon my first visit. Lino’s head was shaved. His business card was adorned with a picture of the top of his shiny head, with his eyes just peeking out, and the tagline: “Give this man your hair.”

My wedding haircut, October 1991.

My wedding haircut, October 1991.

I had bangs and a bob. Lino wanted to give me a completely new look. I don’t know what possessed me to give him my hair, especially since my appointment was two weeks before my (first) wedding. But I did. Maybe it was because he was charming and so full of bubbly energy. Here’s the unbelievable catch: I had no idea what he was going to do. This was the most spontaneous thing I ever did up to that point in my life. He cut my hair very short – swathes of hair fell silently to the hardwood floor. Thankfully, I wasn’t going to wear a veil that was dependent upon my previous hairstyle. And I loved it. It was the biggest change in hairstyle that I had ever had (save for the bad perm that my hairstylist cousin gave me that ruined my senior year in high school). Everyone loved the new style.

I kept my hair short for a few years until I gravitated back to the bob. Within four years, Lino and Len, his partner, opened up a consignment shop in the Mission District, and picked up a few pieces of our furniture for their shop. Lino moved to another salon now that they had this main business. I followed him, but by then I was no longer married. I moved a few times more and changed jobs along the way. Lino moved yet again to another salon. After I remarried and had kids, I continued to follow Lino to different salons. After my daughter was born and it was difficult to cart her into the City to get my haircut (though I had accomplished this with my son), Lino insisted that I come to his home in Alameda so I could have a stress-free haircutting experience.

In search of a new hair stylist, appropriately in the springtime, in a spring outfit.

In search of a new hair stylist, appropriately in the springtime, in a spring outfit.

All in the family: sons, daughters, and mothers
My daughter loved coming with me to the City to get my haircut these last few years. We had this tradition of getting her a triple hot chocolate drink and a toasted bagel with cream cheese at Borders, on the way to Lino’s salon. (Borders, of course, no longer exists in Union Square.) I would sit across the table from my daughter and smile as she savored her chocolate and bagel, thinking that when she is an adult she will remember this special time that we spent together. I hated having to rush her so we could be on time for my appointments. Lino gave her a big hug every time she walked through the door. He gave her jewelry that he either made or had given to his daughter when she was a young. Whenever my daughter wears one of his necklaces, she proudly reminds me that Lino gave it to her. One time he had one of the manicurists paint her nails bubble-gum pink, and he made sure that the two mannequin heads were available so she could brush and style their hair.

Go bold with ethnic-inspired jewelry, floral blouse, hot pink skirt, and laser-cut sandals.

Go bold with ethnic-inspired jewelry, floral blouse, hot pink skirt, and laser-cut sandals.

When Lino lost his son, who took his own life one Christmas Eve, it was the first time I had ever seen him subdued. Up until then, he was always in good spirits and was a breath away from laughter, even when he complained about a salon owner or one of his relatives. I sat, shocked in his chair, not knowing what to say, other than how very sorry I was. I hugged him a moment or two longer than I usually did when we said goodbye. He never spoke of that time again, except once in reflection months later when he relayed a conversation he’d had with his daughter – how time seemed to keep going, how people seemed to carry on with their lives, while the two of them struggled to understand what had happened. When I lost my mother at age 85 to complications of pneumonia – Lino’s own mother, the matriarch, was in her 90s at the time – he was quietly supportive. He knows what a Filipino mother is like, how strong she is, how she wears the pants in the family. And with that knowledge, he knew what a gaping hole that loss had created.

Growing old, not growing old together
Time and age started creeping up on the both of us. Lino complained of arthritis, removing the scissors to massage his hands. He kept threatening to retire. He was already in semi-retirement the last few years, into his 60s, though he looks like he’s still in his 40s – in large part, he would say, to having cleansed his diet. (He amazingly had never seen a doctor in decades.) Exhausted by work and late motherhood, I found myself falling asleep in his chair. It was one of the few times and places where I could relax. But it was getting harder to make an appointment, as I had to work around the one week a month that was his schedule. Nevertheless, I refused to look around, even though I knew there would come a time when I would have to face the inevitable. When I couldn’t get an appointment, I would resort to cutting my own bangs until I could get in. A few times I went to some local salons, only to know with the first snip that I wouldn’t be going back to this or that place.

Playing up a blooming spring blouse with earrings from a New York City street fair, Sundance flower ring, Anthropologie statement necklace, and a water buffalo horn cuff from my sister's trip to Kenya.

Playing up a blooming spring blouse with earrings from a New York City street fair, Sundance flower ring, Anthropologie statement necklace, and a water buffalo horn cuff from my sister’s trip to Kenya.

Sometimes Lino was late or completely forgot about me being his first appointment. I’d have to wait a long time, and though I seethed in the waiting area, I didn’t leave. I couldn’t leave. Nobody could do a blunt cut as precisely and reliably as he could. And we had a history together. Then late last fall, the salon owner died of leukemia, and he informed me that the other stylists couldn’t afford to buy the salon and so it would be shut down. He had an offer to rent a chair at another place, but the catch was he’d have to put in more hours, which he didn’t want to do, and then he was going to need to raise his price. (He had never raised his fee for me in the past 21 years, which friends tell me is unheard of.) Because of the increase, he felt it necessary to take a poll to see if he’d lose a chunk of his clients. I don’t know how the survey went, though I told him I’d follow him yet again at whatever price. His other option was just to hang up his scissors and retire – he was already on that path.

He told me to text him after the holidays, and he’d let me know his decision. We hugged and wished each other a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. When I couldn’t reach him, I began a search for his replacement – with sadness. I checked out yelp reviews and found Jenn Archbold of Florescence Designs (1700 Solano Avenue, Suite C, Berkeley, CA 94707, 510.526.1073). I admit that I was somewhat nervous, not having gone to a hairstylist with the idea that he or she would be the one after Lino. She listened to what I wanted and executed it perfectly. We had a nice conversation, and she was able to talk and cut at the same time – something Lino was incapable of doing, which made haircut appointments longer with him. For a moment, I was hoping that it would be just okay, which would give me permission to reach out to Lino again.

But I made the next appointment before I left. Happy to have found an artisan who can do a blunt cut and work with my cowlick. Sad that an era has come to a close. Such is life.

My new haircut by my new hair stylist.

My new haircut by my new hair stylist.

Celebrating the Monday Moms

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If you aren’t nurturing your self, what kind of mother can you be, anyway?
– Sandra Scofield, American novelist and essayist

When I was pregnant with my son in the spring of 2000, David and I signed up for a birthing class. We thought we were all set until a good friend of mine asked me if we were going to have a doula present for the birth. At the time, I had no idea what a doula was, let alone how to spell it, but instead of admitting ignorance I told my friend that we had decided against having a doula. And then when I went home after our lunch date, I quickly looked up the definition for doula, which is a labor coach. As all pregnant women discover, you are quickly inundated with both solicited and unsolicited advice. Natural birth/no drugs versus epidural, home versus hospital birth, vaginal versus Caesarean section delivery, disposable versus cloth diapers, bottle versus no bottle, mom’s milk versus formula, and the list goes on.

Six of us get together in the summer of 2003.

Six of us get together in the summer of 2003.

One piece of advice I took that I am still benefiting from is joining a mom’s group. In response to her experience as a first-time mother, Sherry Reinhardt founded Support Groups for Mothers in Berkeley in the late 1970s. As you prepare to welcome your new baby into the world, nobody tells you about the enormous life changes that leave you overwhelmed and isolated. You’re supposed to be overwhelmed with joy, not with exhaustion, uncertainty and ambivalence, and even sadness. I recalled a conversation I had with one of the moms, Stephanie, in my birthing class who was the first one in the group to deliver. We had been parked in our gliders, nursing our sons for what seemed like an eternity. My uniform of t-shirts and sweatpants never changed. We needed to get out of the house, and so we signed up for one of Sherry’s support groups.

Celebrating 10 years of the Monday Moms in 2010.

Celebrating 10 years of the Monday Moms in 2010.

We met at Sherry’s house for an hour, once a week on Monday afternoons for eight weeks. There were 10 of us. I remembered feeling intimidated – both by Sherry and some of the other moms, who had strong personalities and opinions to match. We talked through nursing issues, differed on vaccinations, and anguished over trying to get our babies to sleep through the night. One of the most ferocious fights David and I ever had was when I had to miserably listen to my son wail for what seemed like hours while David kept me from dashing out of bed and down the hallway to the nursery to rescue him. After three nights, my son began sleeping through the night. When our eight weeks were up, Sherry encouraged us to continue to get together regularly.

After a Sunday breakfast at Fat Apple's in Berkeley, December 2012.

After a Sunday breakfast at Fat Apple’s in Berkeley, December 2012.

And we did. We called ourselves the Monday Moms, though we met on a different day and took turns hosting the meetings each week. We created an eGroups account for group messages. We had potlucks for the entire families. The more adventurous and proactive in the group set up various activities such as trips to the Lawrence Hall of Science, the El Cerrito community pool, and Lake Anza. We swapped babysitting, so couples could go out to dinner without having to pay for a babysitter. We shared advice on daycare and preschools as some of us returned to full-time jobs outside of the house. We welcomed siblings into the mix.

Ready for Sunday breakfast with the Monday Moms, March 2013.

Ready for Sunday breakfast with the Monday Moms, March 2013.

When our kids entered kindergarten, we took a parenting support class with a licensed professional on Thursday evenings for six weeks. It was a huge change for the kids and us, and we had plenty to talk about in that class. I remember being very frustrated that my very well-behaved son was getting accolades in his kindergarten class but at home was throwing tantrums at will. Our facilitator explained that kids want to do well in their new, very structured surroundings because it’s expected of them. When they come home, however, they fall apart because they’ve expended their energy keeping it together all day. More importantly, they feel secure enough to act out, knowing that we love them unconditionally. While it was still difficult to deal with my son’s tantrums for the next few months, understanding the situation brought greater patience.

The horse t-shirt gets a polished look with a lace skirt, heeled booties, and a textured handbag.

The horse t-shirt gets a polished look with a lace skirt, heeled booties, and a textured handbag.

Along the way, we began to lose members of our tribe. After the first year, Marsha left. Her husband was on leave from his academic position at Brown University, so we knew they would be gone by the end of the year. It wasn’t a surprise, and yet it was still jarring to be minus one mom. And then Michelle moved to Colorado after finishing her doctoral program in developmental psychology and founded her own company based on a signing program for young children. Kate and her family moved to upstate New York, where their kids would be closer to both sets of grandparents. There were leaves of absences throughout the last 13 years – Fiona to New Jersey when her husband taught at Princeton for a year, Renu to India for a year where her husband’s company had a large office, and Sandy currently in Hong Kong for a second year where she’s teaching at an international school.

In 2010, we celebrated our first children’s 10th birthdays. We are entering our 13th year together, dealing with middle school, adolescence, assertions of independence. We’ve tried to meet monthly a few times the last several years – searching for that ideal day and time. The irony is that Marsha, whose in-laws live in Berkeley, is the person who gets us together when her family visits during the winter holidays and in the summer. We are trying again.

Carmela Rose vintage Lucite honeycomb earrings, vintage bracelet, Sundance stackable rings, and In God We Trust (NYC) ring.

Carmela Rose vintage Lucite honeycomb earrings, vintage bracelet, Sundance stackable rings, and In God We Trust (NYC) ring.

The thing about a mom’s groups is that you don’t choose who is in your group. It’s based on when your child is born, as it makes more sense to deal with developmental issues when the kids are the same age. We all have vastly different lives, live in different cities and our kids go to different schools, and our personalities and temperaments are varied. We started out as strangers having one thing in common – our first babies. Thirteen years later, I marvel at the bond we have formed, given the fact that we likely would not have gravitated to one another. Through the years, we have comforted one another over the deaths of our parents and our in-laws, and supported one of our moms who triumphed over cancer. The last time we got together, two Sunday mornings ago, instead of a free-for-all discussion, Mimi asked that we go around the table for a check-in, which was nice. It helped us to focus on one another and offer solicited advice. We are rapidly approaching those milestones – graduating to high school, graduating from high school, moving away to college. As scary as they are, there is a certain comfort in knowing that we have known each other since our kids were babies. That even as our kids have become less familiar with each other in the group and are growing up and onwards, we are still the Monday Moms.

Mixing textures again: horse t-shirt and lace skirt (Anthropologie), black booties, and Kate Spade textured handbag (Urbanity).

Mixing textures again: horse t-shirt and lace skirt (Anthropologie), black booties, and Kate Spade textured handbag (Urbanity).

Lunafest: Celebrating women

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When we get up from our seats and we walk away, we’re changed a little bit and hopefully for the better.
– Kit Crawford, CEO and co-founder of CLIF Bar and Company

In the past several weeks, I have been thinking a lot about violence against women in our communities, in various societies and countries, and everywhere, really. Of course, this has been going on forever, but my despair over the recent cases in New Delhi and South Africa seemed to demand a response from me, for which I had none. What else could I do as a person, a woman, and a mother beyond raising my son to respect women and raising my daughter to be empowered and have healthy self-esteem so that no person would ever take advantage of her and no situation would be beyond overcoming?

A few weekends ago, as I was walking my dog Rex, I came across a poster on a local storefront and read about Lunafest. I recalled receiving annual e-mails from the mom of my daughter’s classmate. Being overwhelmed and stressed during my busy work seasons, I never opened the e-mails, I’m embarrassed to say. What’s done is done, but I thought to myself, I would definitely go this year. In fact, in a serendipitous moment, I declared that this was my first response to my question to myself of how to respond to violence against women: Celebrate women and their creativity and achievements.

A mid-weight Zelda coat from Personal Pizazz (Berkeley, CA), comfortable walking boots, and Monserat De Lucca crossbody bag from Sundance is a perfect outfit for a film festival in early March.

A mid-weight Zelda coat from Personal Pizazz (Berkeley, CA), comfortable walking boots, and Monserat De Lucca crossbody bag from Sundance is a perfect outfit for a film festival in early March.

Lunafest: short films by, for and about women was established in 2000 by LUNA, makers of the nutrition bar for women, to connect women, their stories, and their causes through film. The traveling film festival also serves as a fundraiser for the many communities that host it across the country. Lunafest’s main beneficiary is the Breast Cancer Fund, whose goal is to eliminate the environmental causes of cancer. The selected beneficiaries of El Cerrito’s Lunafest showing were the El Cerrito High School’s Information Technology Academy (ITA) and World Neighbors, an international development organization established to eliminate hunger, poverty, and disease in Africa, Asia, and Latin America. ITA, a small learning community within El Cerrito High School, prepares students for post-secondary education and careers in networking, database management, digital art, and web design.

Reception before the show
The East Bay Lunafast Organizing Committee held a VIP reception prior to the film screening at one of the committee members’ homes, which was just around the corner from the high school auditorium, where the films were going to be shown. I had the pleasure of meeting the evening’s emcee, Karen Grassle, whom many of my contemporaries will recognize as Caroline Ingalls, the mother on the television series Little House on the Prairie (1974-1982). I also met two of the featured film directors, who were slated to participate in a panel discussion with Grassle after the screenings. It energized me to hear them talk about their passion for their art.

Sharon Arteaga, Karen Grassle, and Jisoo Kim at Lunafest 2013.

Sharon Arteaga, Karen Grassle, and Jisoo Kim at Lunafest 2013.

Jisoo Kim, who studied animation in her native South Korea, is a graduate of the California Institute of the Arts MFA program and currently works as an artist for Disney Interactive. Her animated short, The Bathhouse, is a beautiful and lush audiovisual experience in which the bathhouse is the transformative venue for women of all shapes and sizes to achieve this uninhibited state of serenity. I appreciated her ability to move us all in our theater seats from feelings of exhaustion and stress to calmness and then vigor. I also appreciated the cultural reference for this transformation. It’s the same transformation I undergo when I lie down on my acupuncturist’s table, falling asleep while listening to soothing music in a warm room with a lavender pillow over my eyes and then waking up refreshed and ready to tackle the world again.

Sharon Arteaga hails from Austin, where she earned her bachelors in film at the University of Texas. Her short film, When I Grow Up, chronicles a morning in the life of a Latina mother and daughter who sell tacos on a route that takes them through refineries in Corpus Christie and ends at the girl’s school. In the panel discussion, Arteaga revealed that the film was an homage to her mother. As a daughter of immigrants, I very much appreciated how she depicted the conflicting views of the two generations without judgment or bias but with quiet generosity, and her understanding of how the immigrants’ dream enables their children’s dreams to be much grander and yet attainable.

Karen Grassle with my friend, Lisa, and her starstruck daughter Savanna, both of whom are fans of Little House on the Prairie.

Karen Grassle with my friend, Lisa, and her starstruck daughter Savanna, both of whom are fans of Little House on the Prairie.

Honoring nine films
The nine screened films, which were chosen from more than 900 entries around the world, were as diverse as they were impressive. You can see the trailer and more information on the films here. I enjoyed all of the films, but the one that was close to my heart was Canadian filmmaker Andrea Dorfman’s Flawed, which told in drawings the story of a woman who has a big nose and feels conflicted when she falls in love with a plastic surgeon. It reminded me of my own perceived flaws and the teasing I endured as a child for having a flat nose and full lips, which are typical Filipino traits. I recalled the times when one of the boys in elementary school taunted me by saying, “I’m going to hit you and give you a big nose. Oh wait, you already have a big nose,” or “I’m going to trip you and give you a fat lip. Oh wait, you already have a fat lip.” Never mind that he had pretty full lips, too. I contemplated, as the protagonist did, having a nose job as an adult. It also made me think of the time when I found my sister in the bathroom rubbing lemon juice and pulp into her face to lighten her skin, which she had learned from watching Jan Brady in the television show The Brady Bunch, who was trying to lighten her freckles. I was horrified because even as a child I understood that she was trying to erase who she was. In the same way the film’s protagonist learned to accept her big nose, I came to embrace my dark skin, my big nose, and my full lips as part of who I am, as part of my heritage.

I also enjoyed Amanda Zackem’s short film about Georgena Terry, who triumphed over childhood polio (I wanted to know more about this) and whose curiosity and tenacity led her to build bicycles that are custom-fit for women. Rebecca Dreyfus’s short film, Self-Portrait with Cows Going Home and Other Works, peeked into the life of Sylvia Plachy, a well-respected contemporary photographer whose Academy Award-winning son Adrien Brody wrote the original music for the film. Plachy has an amazing eye, and thus, an amazing portfolio of black-and-white photographs. New Zealander Louise Leitch’s Whakatiki – A Spirit Rising chronicled the rebirth of a silenced and disenfranchised wife after she takes a plunge into the waters of her youth. I was moved by the woman’s transformation toward emancipation. As she emerged, water dripping from the thick folds of her skin, she shed more than her clothes and regained a lightness of being in exchange.

The other films included Sarah Berkovich’s Blank Canvas, Sasha Collington’s Lunch Date (Great Britain), and Martina Amati’s Chalk (Italy). Blank Canvas celebrates a uterine cancer survivor’s decision to have her bald head beautifully decorated with henna. The humorous Lunch Date pairs an unlikely couple – a young woman who gets dumped by her boyfriend, who uses his 14-year-old brother Wilbur as the messenger – for an unexpected picnic in the park. Chalk chronicles the rites of passage of a young gymnast.

I came away feeling a rebirth of sorts myself. I was definitely invigorated. How can you not stand up and be excited to determine one’s next steps in addressing women’s issues after being empowered by the beauty conceived by nine amazing women filmmakers? All women, go forth and create beautiful things, and let us all celebrate all of our achievements. Only then can we all be uplifted.

P.S. If there is a Lunafest event in your community, get a bunch of girlfriends together and make it a fun, celebratory evening.

Dark-rinse jean leggings get a boost with a lot of texture: paisley and brocade, Carmela Rose reclaimed vintage chandelier earrings, my own vintage pin (1980s gift from my college roommate!), butter-soft chocolate leather, and gold-studded accents on a crossbody bag.

Dark-rinse jean leggings get a boost with a lot of texture: paisley and brocade, Carmela Rose reclaimed vintage chandelier earrings, my own vintage pin (1980s gift from my college roommate!), butter-soft chocolate leather, and gold-studded accents on a crossbody bag.

Blog Love: Laurel Kallenbach of Laurel’s Compass

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It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.
– E.B. White, American author, Charlotte’s Web

I confess that I don’t have much time to read other people’s blogs. It’s hard enough for me to keep up with my personal e-mails and my work e-mails. But there are some blogs that are unique and really have something to say and offer. My series, or category, “Blog Love,” celebrates and highlights those special blogs, which rightly will be a once-in-a-great-while occurrence on my site because these types of blogs are rare.

Laurel at Callanish, Scotland.

Laurel at Callanish, Scotland.

The tagline of Laurel’s Compass is “a travel writer’s guide to adventures of sustainability and spirit,” which sums up nicely what this blog is all about. Freelance Writer and Editor Laurel Kallenbach has traveled the world over in search of “sustainable tourism, regional foods, sacred sites, local arts, cultural observations, wellness retreats and spas, and outdoor adventures,” which inform her travel writing. Laurel, who calls home Boulder, CO, started her blog in September 2008. While she has written about rural and urban destinations, she has an affinity for “places with a sense of history and cultures with a slower sense of time.” She writes in her website’s bio: “I’m fascinated by ancient civilizations, prehistoric megaliths and historical locations.”

I personally love the fact that she writes about sustainable tourism. On a daily basis, my family and I live a “reduce, reuse, recycle” lifestyle, though I’m always conscious of the fact that we can do more. It’s refreshing therefore to find destinations where that same philosophy of being good stewards of the Earth is practiced. I am a fan and donor of Heifer International, which made Laurel’s December 6, 2012, blog entry, “Adopt a Swiss Cow & Support Sustainable Dairy Farms,” memorable for me because of Farmer Albert Breitenmoser’s ingenuity, entrepreneurial spirit, and passion for keeping his small, family-run dairy farm thriving in the 21st century. And then, of course, there’s finding a good reason to go to Switzerland!

First-year students in the Creative Writing Program at Syracuse University, Fall 1988.

First-year students in the Creative Writing Program at Syracuse University, Fall 1988.

Friends from way back
Laurel can write. She has an eye for detail, an ear for the musicality of words (since the age of 13, she has played the bassoon in orchestras), and the judicious editor’s pen for conciseness and clarity. She honed those skills long before we met as graduate students at Syracuse University in upstate New York in the fall of 1988. Laurel was in the poetry section of the Creative Writing Program on scholarship, while I was in the fiction section of the program on a teaching assistantship. In the English Department office, we bonded over the fact that we were both nursing long-distance relationships, and a friendship developed, involving tea and homemade chocolate-chip cookies, fiction and poetry readings (of famous writers and graduate students), parties at professors’ homes, long conversations across different venues, and meals at unremarkable restaurants.

Camping it up at a Niagara Falls gift shop, with Laurel and friend Connie from the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, Winter 1989.

Camping it up at a Niagara Falls gift shop, with Laurel and friend Connie from the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, Winter 1989.

We traveled back then. During the first year, my sister, Heidi, friend Connie from my Jesuit Volunteer Corp. year in Alaska, Laurel, and I went to Niagara Falls in the wintertime. I recall to this day how the gorge looked like a big mixing bowl full of mounds of cracked white flour. We made day trips to Skaneateles (pronounced “Skinny Atlas”), a quaint village in the Finger Lakes region, and drove to Ithaca, home of Cornell University and our culinary destination of Moosewood Restaurant (215 N. Cayuga Street, Ithaca, NY 14850, 607.273.9610), the world-famous natural foods restaurant. The fall of our second and last year, we drove to Amish country in Pennsylvania, specifically Lancaster, Intercourse, and Bird in Hand. We didn’t make hotel reservations, and we ended up calling and driving on, trying to find a place that had a vacancy during a weekend in which some big event was going on. We managed to find a hotel, and resumed enjoying the Amish crafts, food, and way of life in the beautiful countryside.

Ending our time at Syracuse with our graduate reading, April 1990.

Ending our time at Syracuse with our graduate reading, April 1990.

Celebrating Laurel's wedding in Boulder, May 1992.

Celebrating Laurel’s wedding in Boulder, May 1992.

In the spring we paired up to read together for the graduate reading series. Laurel read her full-bodied, beautifully constructed poems; I was always in awe of her abilities as a poet. I read an admittedly strange short story (but one that I still love to this day) that left my invited freshmen and sophomore students glassy-eyed (not in a good way). We graduated in 1990 and went back to our hometowns – Laurel to Boulder and I to San Francisco. Laurel visited in 1991 and was part of my (first) wedding, reading e.e. cummings‘ “Somewhere I have never traveled,gladly beyond” during the ceremony at the Palace of Fine Arts. I was in her wedding in 1992, with the Flatirons in the background. Laurel reprised her role of reading the same e.e. cummings’ poem in St. Helena, Napa County, where David and I got married in 1998. We lost touch through the years, but through our writing we reconnected. Words have a wonderful way of bringing people together again.

Laurel reading e.e. cummings' poem at my wedding, St. Helena, September 1998.

Laurel reading e.e. cummings’ poem at my wedding, St. Helena, September 1998.

Q&A with Laurel Kallenbach, blogger of Laurel’’ Compass:
Q: What prompted you to start your blog?
A: Oddly, it was politics. I always wanted to start a travel blog, but never got around to it. Then in August of 2008 I was accepted as a media volunteer at the Democratic National Convention in Denver. My job during the four-day convention was to be a “speech runner”: I put on my track shoes and delivered advance copies of the speeches made on the convention floor to the 15,000 media folks covering the convention.

Being backstage seeing celebrities and politicians up close was exhilarating. I shook hands with Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter – and I got back home to Boulder at midnight and blogged about it.

I also wrote about the blisters I got walking nine miles a day to deliver speeches. Just minutes before Barack Obama took the podium to formally accept the presidential nomination, I raced up 10 flights of stairs at Mile High Stadium carrying a big stack of the candidate’s photocopied words. By the time I reached the press box, my lungs were screaming for oxygen and my calves were knotting up. But I was hooked on blogging.

After that, I started posting travel pieces and ultimately decided to remove the political blogs as they really didn’t fit into my theme of sustainable travel. But writing about amazing destinations is no less thrilling than meeting presidents.

Visiting Amish country in Pennsylvania, Fall 1989.

Visiting Amish country in Pennsylvania, Fall 1989.

Q: What was/is the hardest thing about being a blogger?
A: It’s difficult for me to find time to write about all the places I’ve gone. For instance, what I’ve written about last August’s “Downton Abbey” tour of England is only the tip of the iceberg – there are hundreds of memorable things to tell from my trip to Britain. Another hard thing is keeping my writing succinct. Blog posts are better when they’re short, but I tend to wax on and on out of my enthusiasm. When I write travel articles for magazines, I have to tailor my word count to fit the column inches reserved for my story. So, I indulge myself on my blog: I get to write as much as I want – even if it sometimes exceeds my readers’ time limits.

Q: What’s the most pleasant surprise you’ve encountered with blogging on Laurel’s Compass?
A: One of the best parts about writing a blog post is reliving the experience of being somewhere new and exciting. I rarely blog while I’m on the road, and I find that I gain perspective during the time that elapses between the actual trip and when I write about the experience. I get to take a journey of the mind – without packing a suitcase.

The village of Skaneateles, N.Y., is home to many quaint shops, recalling an earlier period in time.

The village of Skaneateles, N.Y., is home to many quaint shops, recalling an earlier period in time.

Q: What advice would you give to aspiring bloggers?
A: Pick a subject you have a passion for, stick as closely to that topic as you can, post once a week for consistency (I fail at this quite often!), and write from your heart. And keep it brief … if you can!

Q: What advice would you give to aspiring poets and fiction writers?
A: I never feel like I’m qualified to give advice, but something I’m trying to practice right now is being content to let words spill out on the paper (well, my laptop screen) without judging them. I get caught up in whether what I’m writing is any good, and all that accomplishes is that I start editing or, even worse, stop writing. So be courageous enough to create sentences dull as lead – and have the faith that someday you can alchemize them into gold.

Enjoying Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, 1994.

Enjoying Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, 1994.

Turning 51, with gratitude

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I will go anywhere, provided it be forward.
– David Livingstone, Scottish medical missionary and explorer

Mixing textures with faux fur, faux suede, creamy lace, patterned tights, vintage brooch, and red leather boots!

Mixing textures with faux fur, faux suede, creamy lace, patterned tights, vintage brooch, and red leather boots!

Yesterday I celebrated my 51st birthday, which was no less momentous than the milestone of reaching 50. This is a new mode of thinking for me. At a certain point in adulthood, I didn’t think much of making a celebration of birthdays. Not that I was thinking of getting older at that time. It was more a feeling that birthday celebrations were for children. When I had my own children, that philosophy was validated, as I focused more on their yearly milestones – the parties, the presents, getting excited for them, and sharing and basking in their genuine happiness.

With the vintage Weiss brooch as the main attraction, keep earrings and rings simple.

With the vintage Weiss brooch as the main attraction, keep earrings and rings simple.

When the 49th birthday came and went, fear set in, and you know the rest of the story (if not, you can read my blog bio and my first post, “Welcome to the Dress at 50”). Celebrating birthdays has taken on a different meaning since last year. I face a new year, grateful to be alive and healthy and to have my family with me. I also return to the two things that motivated me as a child and young adult – tapping my creative juices and being inspired by other peoples’ creativities and visions, and opening up my heart and unleashing generosity for the greater good, for social justice. I look to them as presents to receive and give with each birthday.

Variation on the lace dress: different-colored faux fur scarf, canvas drawstring jacket, vintage-inspired lace-up booties, flowery tights, and vintage Weiss earrings and brooch.

Variation on the lace dress: different-colored faux fur scarf, canvas drawstring jacket, vintage-inspired lace-up booties, flowery tights, and vintage Weiss earrings and brooch.

Birthday weekend
My birthday celebration started on Friday when I finalized an interview earlier in the day with two amazing women for the following afternoon in Los Altos. We ended the evening with a casual dinner out with good friends of ours and their kids, who are friends and classmates with our kids. It was a busy, deadline-driven week at work for me, so winding down after dinner and sharing a bottle of wine and David’s brother’s homemade beer in front of the fireplace with friends was very welcome.

Toughening up the lace dress with yet another faux fur scar, snakeskin print leather jacket, industrial-looking brass and crystal necklace, and chocolate textured tights and booties.

Toughening up the lace dress with yet another faux fur scar, snakeskin print leather jacket, industrial-looking brass and crystal necklace, and chocolate textured tights and booties.

When I had found out that my interview on Saturday was going to be in Los Altos, I contacted my old college roommate, Susan, who lives in Los Altos. Being spontaneous was never my thing (back in college a former dorm floor mate was trying to coax me to go out dancing one evening, and I begged off, with the excuse: “I’m not spontaneous!”). To this day, I try to be more spontaneous, which is still a work in progress. Happily, Susan was available for brunch, and she suggested a terrific very child-friendly, farm-to-table restaurant called Bumble (145 1st Street, Los Altos, CA 94022, 650.383.5340), which is housed in a quaint 100-year-old cottage and serves meals – very good ones – made from organic, locally sourced ingredients. The owners, a married couple, both came from farming families. (I think this concept would be well received if some enterprising entrepreneur could find a venue with character and execute on the concept. Hint, hint, local entrepreneurs!) What was really nice was to be able to sit back and eat and catch up in a leisurely fashion. This is a rarity for me. It was a gift to allow myself to not clock-watch (it helped that we had given adequate time for getting together before our respective appointments).

What to wear after the horse ride: shades of gray and comfortable pieces to relax in.

What to wear after the horse ride: shades of gray and comfortable pieces to relax in.

After brunch, I met two women who have known each other for 40 years and who were introduced to me via e-mail by a good friend of mine whom I’ve known since 2005 through my work in the healthcare information technology world. You will read about their very rare and beautiful friendship, as well as their inspiring and tireless philanthropic work, in March. I only hope that I can do justice to their story through my writing. What they’ve gone through and what they’ve done in their lives to this date compels me to want to be as big-hearted as they are. The evening ended with dinner at another good friends’ warm and bustling home and enjoying my friend Raissa’s homemade chicken curry – the best, hands down.

Favorite cicada necklace from Lava 9 (Berkeley, CA), Carmela Rose earrings, and Sundance rings.

Favorite cicada necklace from Lava 9 (Berkeley, CA), Carmela Rose earrings, and Sundance rings.

On my actual birthday, the only things I was anticipating was David’s Sunday special, his breakfast sandwich and protein drink, and my daughter getting up to join me as I walked Rex in the morning. It was a beautiful, sunny albeit cool day, so doing something outdoors was a given. Nothing came to mind immediately; I only knew I was not going to clean or do work. This was going to be a day to enjoy with my family. My daughter, who has been fancying horses and horseback riding for more than a year now, was lobbying for a horse-themed activity in Walnut Creek. We owed her a horseback-riding family event in lieu of a party with her friends, which was at her request (from this past December). Though horses are not my thing, I voted to contact the riding stable near Point Reyes, upon the suggestion of the Walnut Creek horse ranch that didn’t have any openings for us on such short notice. Hey, I was being spontaneous again.

My horse drinks water while the rest of the family mounts their horses.

My horse drinks water while the rest of the family mounts their horses.

So we drove the 1.5 hours to Olema on the winding Highway 1, listening to Morrison Boomer‘s CD, Down the Hatch, which we had purchased after listening to them play at Pikes Place in Seattle a few weeks ago. For all my driving of late, I have had the pleasure of enjoying their music while on the road. We ended up at Five Brooks Ranch (8001 Highway One, Olema, CA 94950, 415.663.1570) and we took an hour’s ride through the coastal woods. When we had to command our horses to trot or gallop, I erupted in laughter, not unlike the laughter that lets loose when I try to scream on the roller coaster and instead laugh with my mouth frozen wide open. I couldn’t stop laughing because I was bouncing around so much. As I mentioned, I’m not a horse person, but my daughter was in heaven, and my son had a good time. To have her hug me long and hard made all that bouncing around and walking bow-legged for a few minutes upon dismount worth it all.One of our family traditions is that on our actual birthday, the birthday person picks a restaurant of his or her choice for dinner. I had originally hoped that we could attend the Academy Awards party at the Cerrito Theater (10070 San Pablo Avenue, El Cerrito, 510.273.91020), but the show was sold out. I deferred my birthday dinner until later in the upcoming week, as I usually don’t cook on weekends and do cook on weekdays. And for me, one of the perks about having a birthday is not cooking. We toasted to family and health over dinner while watching the Oscars, but not before granting my son’s wish to play a game of Monopoly.

My disheveled western look, accented with brass and crystal necklace, and studded belt and crossbody purse from Sundance.

My disheveled western look, accented with brass and crystal necklace, and studded belt and crossbody purse from Sundance.

Engaging in family activities that my kids requested on my birthday was a gift to me. It warmed my heart to see them so happy, to see them enjoying themselves in such a carefree way. It was my gift to them. Being with friends and spending leisurely time with them were also priceless gifts. Meeting new people, learning about their goodness and being inspired by them were wonderful surprises and unexpected but gratefully accepted gifts. It is not so much the material gifts that are given to me that I value, though I appreciate their thoughtfulness, but it is the family and friends, their love and their friendships, as well as the experiences, that make birthdays memorable and worthy of celebration. Welcome 51 and beyond!