My Favorite Brother

My younger brother, Dennis is my only brother but he would have been my favorite if I had a hundred of them. Because of the joy of our relationship, I wanted the same thing for my children. It worked out perfectly. My son is three years younger than my daughter and their closeness is very similar to what my brother and I share. My husband is 4 years younger than his only sister. We find a lot of humor in that her name is Kay also.

My brother and I do not look alike. We are very different in temperament as well. I tend to be the Leo that I am. He is gentle, kind and always forgiving. He will go the extra mile for anybody who needs his help. I only have to hint, and he will come to my aid.

But life has not been entirely kind to him. His marriage was strained after many years of having to work two jobs and helping to raise three sons, his eldest being born blind with retnoblastoma. They divorced but he and his wife have since remarried and it’s looking happy again as they both enjoy the challenge of fishing although there’s not a lot of fishes in Hawaiian waters these days.

He’s spent all the years that we’ve been gone in Illinois taking care of our parents. Whenever they’ve needed him, he has taken time off from work to meet their needs. I think he’s looking forward to us returning so that he can have more free time with his family.

Although Fate gave him the short end of the stick on some things, he did get the good teeth, the big brains, the artistic talent, the photographic talent, the strength, the good sense of direction, the better carpentry and wood working skills, better cooking skills, better writing skills and much more, so I think he’s been quite lucky as well. Hmmm… he’s also got a loving sister and I think I’m his favorite sister.

Moving Anguish

Almost a week away from D Day! Departure Day...the departure of our household goods, that is. The house is in an ordered chaos. One room is set aside for the things we'll be packing into our Honda van for our son in New Mexico. At this point, it looks like there's no way it's all going to possibly fit. We should do a test run but I'm not looking forward to it. It's so exhausting to carry everything into the van and then take it out again since we're not leaving until the 3rd week of June.

We're trying to set aside areas in a few rooms for top and low priority as to what goes first into the moving container. It's only a 20 foot container so we've got to be very careful. But it's hard. We've spent the last few months shredding tons of papers....33 years of tax documents, financial statements, etc. We managed to wear out one shredder and had to buy a heavy duty one.

I'm one who does not like disorder. I like things organized and in their little places. My daughter has inherited that trait from me and run with it. My son is more like my husband, I think. They're quite organized in their head, just not in their physical surroundings. They know where things are even though it doesn't look it. I tried everything I could to teach my son to come around to my way of thinking but alas.... the genes were too strong.

The idea of moving is now more real and becoming rather painful. We were babysitting our granddaughter in Chicago and had a great time at Grant Park. She loved pushing her stroller by herself. As we were leaving their condo we heard our daughter calling out to her. We turned and saw that she had followed us barefeet to the elevator. The look on her little face is etched into our memory. It said, "Why are you leaving? I want to go with you."

But I can't think about that now. I'll think about it tomorrow.

Seeing Other Sides of My Reality

I've just been tagged by Sandy's Notes. Here are the rules. I hope I'm doing this right.

1. Write the title to your own memoir using six words.
2. Post it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who tagged you.
4. Tag five more blogs.

OK, Here's mine.

Seeing Other Sides of My Reality

I'm not sure how to do the linking. I haven't learned how to do it. I just tried to do what looks like I'm supposed to do and I hope it works.

Now... who to tag who won't get mad at me.
Here goes:
At the Starting Gate
AussiesNan
Jerusalem Hills daily photo
Letters From Lin
teacher says

Sandie wrote: "Anyway, you've all been tagged. I hope you all don't mind my tagging you, this can be kind of questionable. I've seen people not appreciate getting tagged, and others that love it. I only tagged you because I like your blogs, no other reason. I'll be looking forward to seeing your memoir titles if you decide that it could be fun."

True for me, too. I love all your blogs. I'm hoping you'll enjoy the creativity of this and will look forward to seeing what you choose.

#2 Sky Watch Friday

I'm adding my 2nd Sky Watch a little early just because it takes me so long to look the amazing photos of the wonderfully long list of Sky Watch bloggers. If you'd like to see the photos and join us just come on over to Welcome to Wiggers World. http://womtig.blogspot.com/

Too Old to Hug?

I see the photo of myself holding my granddaughter and I'm reminded of the cultural difference between how I was brought up as an Asian American as compared to a Caucasian American.

My brother and I were held, hugged and loved until we were in elementary school. After that, we knew we were loved but we were not hugged or caressed by our parents. It seemed to be the normal way of life in Hawaii and we didn't question it. In college , after I gave a speech in an auditorium about my mother's incredible life journey several people came backstage in tears to tell me they understood what I was speaking of about the relationship between Japanese parents and children.

When I began teaching here on "the Mainland" I had to make a concious effort to give my students all the hugs they wanted and reached out for. I may have given them more hugs than my own children. My own children did mention that they in fact noticed that I never praised them to others and didn't hug them as much as their friend's parents did. I'm breaking through how I was raised and find it more natural now to hug my children more often but it took 30 years to undo something that was rather conditioned into me.

Do I think my parents loved me less? Do I love my children less than Caucasian parents? Of course not. Still, I do love being able to hug my daughter and son. I have yet to hug my mother but she mentioned a few months ago how her grandson (my nephew, Cody) gave her a hug when he visited and I could hear the delight in her voice. Hmmmm.... I think I'll talk to my brother about this...after I give him a hug.

Let Me Hold You While I May

A teacher friend gave this clipping to me at least 15 years ago and it's been tacked to my corkboard above my desk all these years. It was written by Mary Jean Irion. It was copyrighted in 1962 by the United Church Herald and printed in McCall's Magazine in September, 1966. It is rather long and I'm going to type it out just because I'd like to be able to find it again if this gets lost in the move. I hope it's OK to do this.

Let Me Hold You While I May
By Mary Jean Irion
The day is over; now I will sleep. It has been a normal sort of day, common like a rock along the path. Nothing about it would make one exclaim over it, as one might do with a shell or a glistening piece of quartz. It was just a rock, lying there along my way. But now, knowing that it is about to go from me forever, I hold it in my hand curiously, turning it this way and that, marking its shape and texture, weighing it on my palm. What was it really, this normal day?

It was routine, mostly....washing, ironing, a trip to the store, meals, dishes--the common denominators of women;s days.

It was pleasant here and there...a letter from an old friend, my husband's telephone call for no reason, a back fence chat with my neighbor, half an hour with a good book, some loud laughs with the children at dinner time.

It was irritating now and then....a sticky ocean of spilled maple syrup, mealtime with one greedy child and one finicky one, the arrival of a bill unexpectedly high, a persistent salesman's theft of fifteen beautiful minutes.

It was deeply joyous at times... the whole house glorified with the strains of the new "Greensleeves" record; our unliterary twelve-year-old's first book (begun today, to be finished tomorrow) with its dedication--to wonderof wonders--his parents; our eight-year-old and her friend playing dress-up, painted and perfumed, scarved and veiled, clattering through the kitchen in spike heels and courtesaned innocense.

It was sobering and frightening in some ways...Mom's waning health and increasing discouragement; the big blow up after dinner about homework and learning to accept responsibility, and the guilt that followed my hasty words; The vague, huge uncertainties that draped themselves over us, cobweb-like, with the ten o'clock news from a tense and shadowed world.

It was blessed with love throughout...in a pig-shaped breadboard made and presented to me by my son; in the wave of feeling as I watched our little daughter sleeping in soft moonlight, her long lashes shadowing her cheek; in an hour alone with my husband at the end of day.

Just a normal day. A normal day! It is a jewel! In time of war, in peril of death, people have dug their hands and faces into the earth and remembered this. In time of sickness and pain, people have buried their faces in pillows and wept for this. In time of loneliness and separation, people have stretched themselves taut and waited for this. In time of hunger, homelessness, want, people have raised bony hands to the skies and stayed alive for this....

Normal Day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it will not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want more than all the world your return.

Garden Fruits and Blooms

I love Lilies of the Valley. They are such a welcoming spring flower, but I don't even notice them until the scent floats up to me as I walk by. I like to take a little bunch for the kitchen where it works as a light air "freshener." The shy bell shape is so quaint. On the other hand, the lilac seems to overpower. My granddaughter is actually afraid of the lilac bush. Ah well, I guess she's an urban child as my daughter calls her. Our lilacs are almost in full bloom now. The cherry tree is starting to fruit. I have a feeling we didn't have enough bees to do the pollinating since I see a lot of the flowers failed to fruit. What a shame although we won't be here to enjoy cherry pies since we'll be on the road by then.

Later: I was out in the garden again and couldn't resist taking photos of the honeysuckle. I swear I thought I saw a hummingbird. Could it be possible? My daughter says it was either that or the biggest darn bee you ever saw.

Peace Corps Volunteer

From the time he was delivered by his father just past midnight in an elevator almost making it to the obstetrics floor, my son was ready to see the world. He didn't cry at first light. He just took it all in. We named him after Jonathan Livingston Seagull and he's managed to live up to his name always stretching himself, always learning, taking risks. I've told him I've got a head of grey hairs that he's managed to give me.

When he first told us that he wanted to join the Peace Corps I remembered him breaking his right arm when he was three years old and then his left arm falling from the kindergarten monkey bars. I remembered him falling and splitting his chin open at the zoo...the broken toe at soccer practice... I remembered him going back for operations to fix his right arm. I remembered ..... Oh.... I remembered.

I could picture all kinds of things happening to him in some remote corner of the world. However, as soon as he was done with college he was off to Mali, West Africa. Where in the world is Mali, West Africa? We had to look it up and research it. We discovered that Timbuctou is in Mali. Malaria was a worry. He went full of dreams and goals and ideals hoping to make a difference but discovered it wasn't very easy for one person alone in a village to change how things had been done for centuries.

Peace Corps has a school partnership program so I happily partnered my first grade classes with him. He wrote letters to them and answered all their questions. One wonderful year I even won an essay contest to have my class talk to him by speakerphone. The children never forgot this incredible experience and whenever they came to visit me in later years would always ask first where Jon was. From knowing Jon, the world opened up even more for my students. A Malian teacher who became Jon's fondest friend there came to my class to share his culture with us. Often times, American children think of Africa as a country instead of a continent with countries full of diverse cultures. My classes and their families and all the other first graders in the other classes became aware of the rest of the world. It was beautiful.

I think Jon, at times was discouraged about his accomplishments during his 27 months in Mali and I don't know if he fully understands the incredible impact he made on my class whose minds were enriched and awakened by a young fellow who went across the ocean and brought back the world for them.

Jon wrote this for somebody else once, "While in Africa, I read a reference in a Saramago book about immortality. He said that the impact you have on others, affects the choices they make and the impact they have on other people. This process is passed on and keeps going long after you. It is said that this is a kind of immortality."

I believe that this is true of Jonathan as well, and I'm very proud of him.

The Benefits of Forgetfulness

I really love being happy. I don't like movies with sad endings. I try not to write about bad, petty things that happen to me in my journal because it just brings it back fresh to me. I try to help people who are unhappy because having happy people around me cheers me up, too. I often read the end of a book to see if it's going to be worth my effort to read the whole thing.

I've noticed that I'm getting even more forgetful as I grow older. Many times, it's terribly annoying. I can't remember names. Well, that was always a problem for me but it seems to be getting worse. I can't remember where I put things. On the other hand, I tend to forget bad things easier. I'm not remembering movies in detail so I can watch them a second time and enjoy it all over again. I just watched Lord of the Rings and couldn't remember half of it.

My son values the importance of reality. He's given me books that have more real endings. He feels my journals should reflect reality as well. I'm sure it's true but I'm looking out my window at the trees covered with pink and white blossoms and I'm happy. I refuse to remember the headache of Friday's missed delivery by FedEX who said we were not home. We were looking out the window all day waiting for my perishable $1,000.00 thyrogen package. Heaven knows what home that delivery person went to since it was supposed to be delivered BY 3:00 PM and the tracking number revealed that the delivery person said he was here at 2:56 PM. Puhleaze.....

OH NO! I've just written it all down. You see? Wouldn't it be better for me to forget all this. The sky is beautiful this morning. My husband is making some terrific oatmeal with bananas and cranberries. I'm going to make some of my hot frappaccino. I'm happy. I'm happy.

Hosta Mania

I love hostas, or do you call them funkias? In our little "Village" (subdivision) there was a green leaf with white middle stripe variety that was very popular. Everybody had them. My neighbor gave some to me and they did OK but not great. After a few years a solid green mutant leaf sprang out. I pulled it off but it kept coming back. Eventually, its persistence paid off. I divided that green part out to keep my striped variety looking even and planted the dark variety elsewhere. It took off. The full shade could not kill it. Flooding could not kill it! I divided it and divided it and friends asked for it so I divided it some more. Now it's everywhere in my yard because even my ungreen thumb can't kill it. Is there a lesson here?

Minority Discomfort, Majority Growth

Some 35 years ago my husband took me to the Officers Club in Hawaii. When we sat down to dinner with all his friends I looked around and was shocked to my bones to see that we seemed to be the only minorities there. I wasn't frightened. Everybody was as nice as could be and tried to make me feel comfortable. But I couldn't shake this terrible feeling. My "date" seemed oblivious to my discomfort. I decided then and there that I would not go out with him again because I just couldn't cope with this feeling of strangeness. In Hawaii, I was used to feeling like I was in the majority. The "majority" being a mixture of Japanese, Chinese, Filipinos, Koreans, Portuguese, Hawaiians, etc. Needless to say, there was a second date and then our move to Illinois where I would learn and grow more than I ever thought I would.

Today, I went to our "village" once-a-month luncheon. We take turns having lunch at someone's house. We bring either a salad or dessert and somehow without any planning, it works out and we get a lovely assortment of dishes. The host provides beverages, china and silverware. As I sat with these very wonderful women trading ideas, advice, laughter, I realized I was once again the minority. Somehow, I must have grown up because I felt nothing but friendship. How very wonderful! This is not to say I haven't felt the sting of prejudice occasionally down the years but there are so many more beautiful, kind and loving people out there, everywhere. It's certainly fun to find them.

My First Sky Watch Friday

Jerusalem Hills has introduced me to an intriguing blog site called Welcome to Wiggers World. http://womtig.blogspot.com/

Every Friday you post a photo of the sky in your area and people around the world post a look at the sky we are all sharing. Unfortunately, I tried taking a photo this morning and there wasn't even a cloud to make it interesting. It was just a blue sky. Mind you, after all the rain we've been having this cloudless blue sky was quite welcome and breathtaking. This afternoon was a little better but not much. I've posted that photo instead.

Anyway, I'm cheating. I added a photo of the sky that I took when I was in Hawaii a few years ago. It was quite a bit more awe inspiring. Still... I did like that cloudless sky this morning.

Not a Word...

Children grow at their own pace, in their own way. I'm a teacher. I know this. Still, I can't seem to not worry that my little 16 month old granddaughter is not picking up speech yet. She babbles and says "Daddy" but other than that, not much. She does understand quite a bit of what we're saying. We're having to spell c-o-o-k-i-e because if we don't, she'll make a bee line for the kitchen and start pointing to the cupboard where she knows the goodies are stored. If you tell her we're going for a walk, she'll go and get her shoes to put on. When she wants something, she does the sign language for more and points to what she wants. The sign for more has come to mean "I want..." If she wants us to do something, she'll take our finger and pull us to where she wants us to be and point. All this, but no words. I can almost hear my reassuring teacher tone saying, "Not to worry, all in good time..." I might even suggest the picture book, Leo the Late Bloomer. However... as I watch this adorable baby bring her plate to me and point to the cereal box I can't help but wish she would say, "please."

Y-Me Breast Cancer Race

This was to be our last Y-Me 5K Breast Cancer Race/Walk before we move. My husband, Art would jog and we would walk with our granddaughter in her stroller. The weather forecast did say rain but we figured it could go north or south or dissipate. It didn't. It started as a drizzle and became heavier until "cats and dogs" would be an appropriate description. Monsoon? Hurricane? Typhoon? The high temperature was supposed to be 51 degrees but at 7:30 AM, we were no where near that.

We walked about a mile to Grant Park in Chicago and saw my husband off. We could not do the walk because it was too difficult to manage pushing the stroller and holding the umbrellas at the same time. Just standing at the finish line was a challenge as the winds swooped under the umbrellas.

Amazingly, Art's finish time was only a minute and a half slower than unusual. Maybe he was just trying to get done so we could all go home. He didn't realize he had passed the finish line because officials had to take the banner and time clock down due to the high winds. As we were returning home, winds knocked down a heavy sign right in front of us. That was a surprise.

Our granddaughter, protected by the plastic rain cover, snuggled up in her waterproof blanket cocoon and eating out of a snack cup watched us all in sublime comfort, even taking a nap...not waking until we had returned home.

My son-in-law had a substantial Mother's Day brunch waiting for us as we took showers to try to warm up. This was certainly an uncomfortable but a day to remember!

Mothers Day Y-Me Breast Cancer Race

While my husband jogs, I will walk with KC and Tif to join thousands in the Chicago Y-Me Breast Cancer 5K Walk/Race. We've done it every year for the past several years. This reminds us of the time a couple of years ago when my husband and I were in Hawaii and our son, Jon came to visit his sister in Chicago. Tif was stricken with nausea in the early stages of her pregnancy and couldn't participate as she'd meant to. Just for fun, Jon said he could take her number and run for her. When the race results came in, we were rather flabberghasted. He'd come in 17th as a woman! Tif could not believe it. We laughed at the thought that the following year, her time would be at a crawl compared to the previous year. Jon is the cute guy in the maroon top with khaki shorts. Tif sent us this photo while we were in Hawaii that she had gotten off of the Y-Me website. Let's hope Sunday is a clear, pollen-free day for our Mother's Day walk. I believe our son-in-law is promising to provide us with a delicious Mother's Day congratulatory brunch after the race. Happy Mothers Day everyone!

Winnetka Rummage Sale

The Winnetka Rummage Sale used to be billed as the Largest Rummage Sale in the World. I think it may have been eclipsed by another church but it is still huge! It is held every 2nd Thursday in May. My friend, Peggy and I first started going to the SALE when our babies were still in strollers. Today my baby is all grown up and we went together with her baby. It was just as much fun and we went home with quite a HUGE haul for our little KC. Clothes! Books! Toys! One toy in particular fascinated me. As much as I've complained to my daughter that too many toys need batteries these days, this one is rather wonderful. It's called Alphabet Pal. When you press the legs it will either give you the color of the feet, the sound of the letter or the name of the letter. It will also play music. KC loves it. I think the price was about $2.00. Peggy, if you're reading this... Do you remember?

Travel Tips

Just thought I'd share some fun traveling tips.

1. Bring a small wash cloth for Europe. I rarely find more than bath towels in European motels.

2. If you carry medicines, be sure to note the dosages.

3. (Got this from Budget Travel) Pack a power strip to recharge all your electronic equipment such as laptop, battery recharger, etc. That way you only need one adapter.

4. Pack a photo of your check in luggage in your carry-on bag in case they lose your luggage. I took a photo of our luggage just before leaving for Amsterdam and it helped to show them what our bags looked like when it got misplaced.

5. With my poor memory, I ALWAYS carry a tiny notebook in my tiny backpack to write notes so I'll remember what I see.

6. If you do use a backpack instead of a purse be sure it can't open from the outside. I must really look like a doofus because pick pockets always target me. (For Dina) I just uploaded a photo of my tiny backpack with the back opening that I use for traveling and everyday.

7. If I'm on a tour, I bring a few tip envelopes so I don't have to look for them.

8. Not to be paranoid but I make a list of what I'm bringing and which bag/luggage I have it in juuuust in case they lose it.

The Gift

My mother's 89 year old friend of 50 years was stricken with stomach cancer last September. The doctor gave her 4 months to live. She exceeded it by 2 months. She and my mom used to work at The Hawaii Times newspaper together until it went under some 20 or 30 years ago. Since they could no longer talk at work, they had a ritual to speak to each other on the phone every Monday afternoon at around 3:00 for a couple of hours of politics and laughing and complaining about the state of the world and then more laughing again.

In the 6 months where cancer slowly robbed mobility and life from her, my brother drove my mother to her friend's house to deliver soup or broth, her favorite sushi and some other little morsels of food that she might enjoy. Whenever I called my mom on Saturday, I'd find her scurrying about trying to cook something tasty.

The last few weeks have been hard. My mom misses those Monday afternoon chats. "She was my last best friend," she mourned. However, the thought that we were moving back to Hawaii to live with her kept her spirits up.

When I called her a couple of days ago she said she couldn't sleep. Her friend's nephew had stopped by with an envelope while she was working in her garden. She'd thanked him politely and put the envelope on the table to read later.

When she was done with her work, she sat down to read what she thought we would be a farewell letter. Instead, there was a short note that the enclosed check was to help support and care for her. She gasped when she looked at the check and started counting the zeros. She could barely contain herself.

Mom couldn't sleep because she couldn't decide what to do with the money. She finally decided to give some to my brother, save some for our family trip to Japan in fall and the rest would be used for Buddhist memorial services to make sure her friend would be remembered for as long as she herself lives. Her friend did not have children and her stepchild forgot about her so mom felt this would be the best way to use this gift. I was glad to hear that these gifts of the heart both ways would keep on giving for the rest of my mother's life.

Spring Garden

My cherry blossoms were on their last legs, but we had a visitor from Japan who wanted to see my cherry tree. He was quite fascinated saying he'd only seen pink blossoms but he had to concede that white cherry blossoms were beautiful also. Can you imagine me grinning ear to ear?
My lilacs won't be ready for their showing for another week or two. With the cherry tree gradually losing her petals with each gust of wind, the apple tree is starting to show a few buds. Surprisingly, there's not many buds. I wonder why. The Lilies of the Valley are also showing the promise of some heavenly scents and the Fothagilla is already presenting its brush flowers for everyone see.
I made a concerted effort to notice how many different kinds of birds fly through my back yard. I was happy to notice a cardinal, 2 blue jays, sparrows, a red-wing blackbird, robins, mourning doves, starlings... and that's about it. My neighbor said a woodpecker poked a hole in the siding of his house. Hmmm.... I don't think I want to see that in our property.
P.S. I made my super duper frappaccino (I really need to learn how to spell that.) for my Japanese guest but he said it didn't have enough of a coffee flavor in it. I ended up giving him plain iced coffee which he liked even better. Oh sheesh!

Last of the Cherry Blossom Photos

Well, I guess these are the last of the cherry blossom photos. We're having a severe thunderstorm right now and I see petals scattered all around our deck. Sigh... That was certainly shortlived but I'm glad I got to take a lot of photos before we leave the area. There are no cherry trees in Hawaii. I'm glad I'll have these photos to remember their brief and fragile beauty.