Friday, February 17, 2012

“No estate in united America is more pleasantly situated than this,” said George Washington about his Mount Vernon home.

I have stood on the grounds sloping away from Mount Vernon’s eastern façade to gaze at the Potomac a handful of times now, and each time have felt the magnetic power of that place. Little wonder that his desire to return to Mount Vernon and to behold again that very view kept Washington persevering through the travails of war and public service.

Washington as the Revolutionary War leader and Founding Father has fascinated me over the years, but through Ron Chernow’s excellent biography, I have a greater appreciation of Washington as the self-invented autodidact, the reluctant Cincinnatus, the gentleman farmer, and the childless family man. I plowed through most of the 800+page book as my December Rituxan reading.

In just the first few pages, I learned something about which I had been curious: how Washington had come to own such incredible real estate. In the mid-1600s, his great-grandfather acquired some 5,000 acres in colonial Virginia, the bulk of which was along the Potomac River at Little Hunting Creek. His father later built a home which Washington expanded to become what we know today as Mount Vernon. Washington’s older half-brother renamed the Little Hunting Creek estate after his commander in the British navy, Admiral Edward Vernon. That the place so identified with the man who took on the British would have taken its name from a British military figure was, I thought, a great tidbit of historic irony.

As Chernow described Washington’s struggles to grow profitable crops and wrestles with the economic and moral issues of slavery, I recalled the beauty of that land and some fun memories with the geography. One ambitious Saturday my third year in law school, some friends and I rode our bikes on the path from Arlington National Cemetery all the way down to Mount Vernon. That was a great outing – until we had to bike all the back. And then right before my Georgetown graduation, Bing took me sailing south down the Potomac. We discovered, though, that the current down by Mount Vernon is very strong, and it was a slow slog upstream. We were two hours late for the graduation party being thrown for me by none other than then-Congressman Mineta, “Uncle Norm,” and his family at their home. Fortunately, my parents, who were in town for my graduation, and their friends were having a great reunion without me. Since Norm was actually the Leungs’ congressman, Bing was mortified, but everyone seemed to think it was romantically cute that our excuse for being late was that we were stuck on a sailboat. One ULI trustee event was held on that back lawn and we got to climb around some usually-off-limits cellar passageways. The sun setting over the Potomac with dinner by candlelight on the Mount Vernon lawn – now that was impressive.

Bing’s favorite photo of his paternal grandparents, Peter Hin and Lillie Leung, was this one, which he took of them standing at the entrance to the Mount Vernon carriage path. He loved this one of them. You wouldn’t be able to see it, but Po Po Lillie is wearing the jade ring which I now have as a necklace.

These days it seems that we are removed from the reasons why we have holidays. A colleague commented to me as we were wrapping up today, “Holiday? What holiday?,” meaning that Monday is just the third day of a three-day weekend. I am admit to being glad we have the holiday weekend. But at least this Presidents’ holiday, I can look at this photo of Gung Gung Hin and Po Po Lillie at Mount Vernon, remember my other connections to that beautiful location, and relate in a small way the pull which it had for our first president. And then give thanks for the remarkable life which he led for our country’s benefit.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Akemi’s early December e-mail started with “Yay.” When I read that she made the first violin section of NEC’s top orchestra for its February 8^th concert with the renowned conductor Hugh Wolff, I made my decision at that very moment. No matter how I felt, I was going to that concert.

One of my cardinal parenting rules has been “show up.” Even with only one child, a few times that has been easier said than done. Her second grade year, my flight home from a ULI meeting in Atlanta was delayed by lightening. The longer we sat on the runway, the more anxious I got that I would miss my Denver connection, meaning I would miss Akemi’s school open house that night. In heart-warming solidarity from another working mom, the flight attendant called ahead to the gate of my connecting flight, had me stand by the cabin door as soon as it was safe to do so, and said, “They’re trying to hold the flight for you, so as soon as we can open this door, RUN.” I did, and it seemed I had just sunk breathlessly into my seat as that plane started to taxi. When I caught up with Bing and Akemi at her school, she pressed my hand to her cheek and said with relief I will never forget, “Oh, Mommy, I knew you would make it.”

Open house was important to that second-grader, and making the best orchestra concert of her life was important to the hard-working young violinist. Fortunately, the change in my treatment schedule meant I did not have chemo as was originally on the calendar for this week. Even the weather gods were extraordinarily kind to me – no snow in Boston for early February.

Listening to the first half of the concert in NEC’s historically beautiful Jordan Hall, I realized that she had worked her entire life to be able to play in an orchestra such as this. She corrected me: she has worked her entire life to be able to play in an orchestra with a conductor of Hugh Wolff’s caliber. Moments in their Mozart “Haffner” symphony and Beethoven fourth piano concerto were breath-taking, and their Shostakovich first symphony was simply dazzling. The concert was over all too quickly. It was great of Sarah, Jonny, and Kismet – a wonderful subset of her best friends – to make it, as well.

All too soon I was leaving her apartment to return to LA early yesterday morning. In her sleepy dawn, she thanked me again for coming. Truthfully, I went as much for myself as for her. We shared this achievement, her and I, as we have shared, what, 17 years of lessons, rehearsals, performances, decisions, a few disappointments, and many exhilarations. And having her know that she can count on me to be there for the events important to her, be it the second grade open house or an NEC Philharmonia concert, is a gratifying parental accomplishment unto itself.

Folks were roundly concerned that wouldn’t this trip be too tiring, but all the more, I wouldn’t have missed this concert. This was most definitely a memorable “yay,” and Waldenstrom’s be-you-can-guess, I am counting on making more concerts and recitals before she is done at NEC.

Monday, February 6, 2012

I’ve been writing a lot lately, just not on “Wing on Wing.”

Three stake presidents have asked me to update the history of our stake since the publication of my “How Firm a Foundation” book in 1994. As Karen said, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to have done it, but neither could I have comprehended during the ULI executive years and single parenting years that I could put the time, let alone the thought, into resuming a project such as that. I burst into tears when President Lowry asked about five years ago, so impossible did that seem then.

Nevertheless, over the past 18 years I somehow still became the recipient of documents which people thought I should have, even though I had long been released as stake historian. When we had to move out of the stake center during its reconstruction, even more files came my way. The boxes and guilt started to pile up. I resolved that as soon as I became an empty-nester, I would tackle the stake history again.

But just a few days after delivering Akemi to college was when I tripped and fell, and what were supposed to be my care-free empty-nester days have been darkly overshadowed by matters that had not been on my agenda. Feeling good again after a scary December, I have taken a “now or never” attitude about this stake history “catch-up.” You know, the Nephi “I will go and do” sort of thing, especially before my next treatment.

Last June I gathered together our three former stake presidents and their wives, with our current stake president and his wife, to interview them about what they considered to be the highlights during their presidencies. I also captured their roundtable discussion about their impressions of what it’s like for the Pasadena Saints to live the gospel. I’ve been writing up all that material with what’s in all those boxes – it’s not the book continued, but more a summary of what the stake presidents considered to be the most important events during their years of service.

It’s almost done; it’s gone surprisingly quickly. I’m trying to finish a draft to circulate this week. And then I’ll return to “Wing on Wing.”

Friday, January 27, 2012

A few days of 80°+ weather have catapulted us beyond winter. This week on campus, pea coats and scarves vanished, replaced overnight by the trademark USC look of short shorts, flip flops, and shades. Camps of classes were meeting on the grass, and when I walked into his office this morning, my boss commented on how my floral sweater went with his purple shirt. If nothing else, that must certainly be a sign of spring, from those of us in the “black is an appropriate color year-round” and white-shirt-and-tie fashion camps.

My favorite harbingers of spring are the leucojum vernum or “snowflakes” which have naturalized throughout my garden. The snowflakes are the first to bloom of my seasonal flowers, and I’ve come to know that I can look forward to a couple of months of bouquets in my Waterford Lismore creamer repurposed as a small vase.

Last spring I wrote about how I have assumed that our house’s second resident, artist Geraldine Birch Duncan, was the one who planted a bank of these snowdrops. Our first year in this house, I watched their green shoots resolutely poke up amid the rubble, wondering what they were. I called them my “mystery bulbs” until they revealed their tell-tale white bell-shaped flowers. I’ve transplanted them twice to be in their current beds. As the new landscaping grows in, it looks like some of them need to get transplanted yet again.

I’m actually hoping we are not completely done with winter, though. We need more rain, and all that sun isn’t good for those undergraduates basking in the rays on the quad. And besides, I’ve got more black in my wardrobe than purple.

Monday, January 23, 2012

When he heard that Bing and I both were born in the year of the monkey, Uncle George took this Chinese ink painting off his wall and handed it to us as an engagement present. The Wong side of the family had gathered that Christmas 1982 at George and May’s Presidio home and our upcoming wedding was the favorite topic of discussion. “Double monkeys – that’s good luck,” said Uncle George, explaining that this painting was from a series of Chinese new years animals by one of his insurance clients. Among the many thoughtful presents we received, this painting of two monkeys united, hugging each other, has remained a favorite of mine, always hanging in our home.

This rainy day has ushered in Chinese New Year 4710, the year of the dragon. Although it is not my year, dragon years are considered especially auspicious for everyone. For instance, dragon years are good for making new relationships, launching new businesses, and undertaking new enterprises; you could say a dragon year is the year of the start-up. Kudos to any mother who has a baby boy born in the year of the dragon. For matters both personal and professional, a dragon year is supposed to be a “go-go” year.

This Chinese new years was for me the year of the non-celebration. No hand-made invitations to a nine-course dinner for 10 which took three days to prepare. Do left-over “Asian” spareribs count? (I should think so – they were really good!) No Chinese new years cards, either. It seems that Akemi just left home from the holiday break and I wasn’t even thinking about putting her lai see red envelope in the mail for her to get it in time. Oh, well, I can take it to her when I visit in a few weeks for her orchestra concert.

This year I enjoyed phone calls and e-mail exchanges with a few family members and friends. Here’s to a good year of health, happiness, and prosperity for us all. Double-hugs to other monkeys, and if you’re tackling a new endeavor, “go-go”!