Travelling April

April 2023 has turned out to be a traveling month with our trips to southern and western states. With a couple of weeks in between, we were out of town at both the beginning and the end of the month.

It is nice to travel and see family members and different places. But it is even nicer to have a new appreciation for our daily life, such as the local weather, mountains and ocean, roads and houses, and most comforting of all, our soft bedding. All of sudden, these ordinary aspects have assumed a new and mystique appearance only to people with fresh eyes.

The other beauty of travel is help one to build up a certain degree of tolerance to otherwise intolerable events. At our breakfast table, I happened to glance at a joint guest commentary in yesterday’s Sentinel, called There's much more to the story of Santa Cruz libraries. I could not help but recall a related Sentinel article dated April 6, 2010, County Libraries on the block: closing neighbor branches could save $16M annually, staff says. The very La Selva Beach Library, a featured branch in the commentary, was one of the neighborhood branches to be chopped. The little branch would not become "the go-to spot for families, remote workers, and those needing internet access," if a former director and her administration had succeeded in executing their plan. It has survived, thanks to the tireless campaign of local residents for their library, as reported in La Selva residents rally around the library, another article in the same local newspaper seven months after.

Owing to the immune system recently fortified by traveling, I chuckled at the guest commentary. What can you do with people who speak out of both sides of their mouths, and who can use the executioner as a shield to get their own agendas fulfilled, without leaving any incriminating digital footprint? It is a true art perfected through a lifetime.

March Madness on CAT

 This year's March Madness started off with a bang from March 6's antisemitism/hate uproar on OCLC-CAT, an online listserv for catalogers worldwide to help each professionally. 

It began with an innocent question from a librarian at the Master's Seminary Library at Sun Valley, California, on how to create original records for a couple Festschrift (plural: Festschriften). Shall she add an added author field for the honored? Minutes later, she received helpful confirmations from UCLA and University of Washington libraries, to create a 700 added entry for the honoree ($e honoree).

An hour later, the tide turned when Liu Xiping, a librarian from University of Houston posted the following,

"I would be really careful not to mix the author with the dead people. Besides what Christopher said about using the fixed field, I usually don't do anything because it's not worth it and no one is searching by the dead people for the resources. Unless like Adam suggested, the book talks about these dead people's works, for example, the history and criticism of a dead monk's theological work. In that case, I would add the name of the dead monk in the 600 field, subdivided by history and criticism, to bring out that part of the content, so it can be indexed properly by the system."

Half a dozen librarians wrote back to clarify the broader usage of Festschriften, but the Houston librarian did not back down, "I said the works that I have been working with so far are for dead people. It’s not a narrow interpretation. It’s one half of the interpretation of festschrift. Come to face it. The other half will be dead one day and it will all be a festschrift for the dead for future readers."

The debate would have remained within the boundary of academia without the Houston librarian's message, "I searched in OCLC with the subject heading "Festschriften" and did find some work honoring their husbands in the 19^th century​‌. I'm pretty sure the husbands were all active and alive at that time but they are quite dead now. I have never heard people ask such question as "Do you have the xxx Festschrift"? Is this a smart Jewish way of asking research questions? We the common people only know to ask "Do you have books on the history and geography of Palestine?" There are quite a few in OCLC that's a Festschrift and worth celebrating, like you explained. "

A librarian from Yeshiva University did not agree, "Hey, my husband was just honored with a Festschrift, and he is very much alive! A Festschrift is very often a collection of articles on the subject interest of the xxx Festschriften. Often it’s written by colleagues and students. We find it useful to have a heading Festschriften. [Name] because people will come in and say, “Do you have the xxx Festschrift?” Festschriften are usually in honor of a person in academia who is celebrating a significant milestone birthday or is retiring, etc. A book in honor of a dead person I would characterize as a memorial book.

The Houston librarian was cautioned about her anti-Semitism remark of a smart Jewish way of asking research questions, but continued nevertheless, "I meant every word I said to the original sender. By the way, the original sender didn't say anything yet about being offended. So weird. Are there any Palestinian librarians on this list? What's their take on my reply and my 'antisemitism'? As long as there are people who continue to ask 'Do you have the xxx Festschrift', I will continue to ask mine 'Do you have books on the history and geography of Palestine?'"

The accusation and criticism intensified especially with a a long message from a Marist College librarian who was going to report to OCLC about the Houston librarian's attempt to justify this by focusing on the supposed big vocabularies and smartness of the (presumably) Jewish people in question is also—you guessed it—antisemitism. It plays into "bookish" and "model minority" stereotypes often leveled at Jewish Americans, among other groups. Furthermore she was going to report her to the OCLC listowners. 

The Houston librarian did not back down, 

"I have every reason to believe that the original sender posted these comments towards me because of her associated demographic background and I responded in a corresponding way so she can get my message. The silence so far from yhe sender proves that I was right and she deserved every word that I said. The question that I asked was based on fact. Please stop associating “big vocabularies” and “smartness” with only the Jewish people. There are smart people with big vocabularies in every demographic group in the world. I have never seen other people to use it as their shit on other people and to praise themselves in such a brazen way.

"My examples with the Palestine set as a warning to the original sender so she can be careful of what says to me in the future. You can elaborate however you want. Comments like this even with big vocabularies are a pile of garbage to me.

"Feel free to report to OCLC as your time allows. I didn’t know you work for a Catholic University. Do they allow for capital punishment for spewing hatred? I think you and I can finally agree on one thing: there is enough hate in this world and I don’t want to see it anymore.

"Are there any Palestinian librarians on this list? What's their take on my reply and my "antisemitism"?

"As long as there are people who continue to ask "Do you have the xxx Festschrift", I will continue to ask mine 'Do you have books on the history and geography of Palestine?'"

The Houston librarian was reported to her employer, the Dean of University Libraries and Elizabeth D. Rockwell Chair. The saga of March 6 anti-Semitism uproar did not stop with the dean's apology, or removal of the Houston librarian from OCLC-CAT. Two days later a Hebraica Cataloging Librarian at University of Pennsylvania compiled a chronological list of OCLC's negligence in responding to the incident. Another University of Washington librarian questioned that “Should there be a review process for metadata created by someone who has insistently and repeatedly expressed hate on a professional listserv? Do we have a collective responsibility to do an ethics spot-check when something like this occurs?” But sanity prevailed, "Isn't correction and education the answer?" 

The Houston librarian was banned on March 7, but resurrected on OCLC-CAT with her personal email address on March 14. She was spotted and taken off right away by a couple of sharp-eyed subscribers. On March 20, she popped up on AutoCAT, another listserv, with another personal email address. After due deliberations among participants, she is allowed to stay as long as she remains professional. Both OCLC-CAT and AutoCAT have been peaceful ever since though. Hope it is the same with the world arena. There is enough global aggression to be No. 1 and Mr. RIGHT. Hope the Houston librarian will learn from the past.

In Memory of Uncle Luo

On the eve of this past Lunar New Year, my oldest cousin informed us that his father Luo Chunming (1930-2023), the elder brother of my late mother, passed away in Shanghai, China. He was 93. 

Age 93 is an impressive longevity. But judging by the life span of his 102-year-old mother and his robust health two months previously, Uncle Luo does seem a little premature in his passing. One cannot help but wonder if it has anything to do with the abrupt opening of COVID-19 restrictions and lack of medical supplies and hospital beds in the city. 

An architect by profession, Uncle Luo had two passions in his life: playing soccer with his circle of friends, and drinking Chinese liquors alone or with company. Watching him sipping away at the square table in his dinning room, I was often wondering if the latter passion had anything to do with his disappointment at his career or personal life. From 1949 to his retirement in the 80s, very few professionals were highly regarded by society. His other disappointment might lie with his children. With the exception of his eldest son who eventually became the associate dean of the Shanghai Railway Institute, the other three sons have not been inclined academically, or professionally.

Not unlike an uncle's key role in Navajo way, Uncle Luo had played an essential role in our life. Unrelated by blood, my mother treated her step brother more than a full-blood one. Throughout her life, she respected and consulted him on every important issue. Their close relationship was deeply rooted from the beginning. Uncle Luo was the only one who had showed sympathy to my 11-year-old mother when she first came to join her father after losing her grandmother, the sole caretaker. Her father had married his widowed mother.

Uncle Luo's support did not end with their childhood. It is he who made it possible for us to have a brand-new house in 1957, after my parents were squeezed out from their own apartment by a free housemate. Teamed with my paternal grandfather who was a contractor, he designed an imposing blue-bricked two-stored duplex on the family property right behind his house. On hearing that there was a potential opportunity for me to study foreign languages upon my graduation from high school, Uncle Luo gave me all his help, which opened the gate for us three siblings to have inspiration for higher education.  

The respect between my mother and Uncle Luo was mutual. My uncle admired my mother's extraordinary capabilities and uprightness. I vividly remember one incident during one of my home visits from university. For some stubborn reason, I was arguing inconsolably with my mother on a minor topic, and soon joined and backed up by my sister and brother. Uncle Luo got wind of it and came to intervene our loud quarrel. His words were brief, but sobering, "You three are obviously correct, since you have received proper education. But it does not give you the right to prove that you are correct at the expense of your parents." From that point on, we never had similar arguments ever.

The last time I saw Uncle Luo was at my mother's interment in December 20, 2019. He paid his last respect to his beloved sister at the Lexiang Cemetery, Shanghai.

Winter Storms In Santa Cruz County

After years of drought and water shortages, our prayers for more rain has finally been answered: California is now drenched with rain, and Santa Cruz County is flooded in many areas. So far, there have been six storms in the last two weeks, with a year's rain compressed into two weeks, as reported by KION today.

Thursday, January 5th, 2023, was the last day of my two-week vacation. Paul and I decided to walk in Capitola Village, thinking that it would not be too busy, for it was still a weekday under a cloudy sky after an overnight rain. We were surprised to see our usual out-of-the-way parking lot almost full. Vehicles and people were scurrying around like little figures in a fast-moving film, in and out incessantly. Once out of our car to saunter to the beach's cliff-top railing, we were further surprised to see brown waves pushing in forcefully, one after another. Straight ahead, another big surprise was in store for us: the Capitola Wharf was broken into two parts with its two tattered ends mashed to pieces. The damage explained the restlessness around us. Without further ado, we turned around and went home for a neighborhood walk. Little did we expect that it was only the beginning of the winter storms in the County of Santa Cruz. Later we learned that many businesses along the Esplanade were battered and inundated with huge ocean waves.  

The damages were equally severe on West Cliff Drive, especially between streets such as Columbia, Woodrow, David Way and Sunset, as we witnessed on our evening walk the next day. The lower lands and mountain areas have not fared better. There were floods in Watsonville and Felton, and mudslides in San Lorenzo Valley. 

Winter storms in Santa Cruz County have made national and international headlines. As a result, calls and messages poured in from our concerned family members and friends. According to The Sentinel, Governor Gavin Newsom came to visit hard-hit Capitola. The only exception is a group of my former training class mates that are still engaged in their endless Sino-U.S. bickering, even though they call themselves disaster/bad news chasers.

Grey Bears' Holiday Dinner: Slowly but Surely

Last Saturday at 11 a.m., Paul and I went to pick up our annual Holiday dinner at the Grey Bears' campus on the other end of Chanticleer.

Compared with the same event two years ago, this year's dinner was not well organized. The location was changed twice, from the Grey Bears lot to the Drive-In and Flea Market lot, and then back to the Bears lot. As a last minute measure, they staffed a Grey Bear volunteer to stand at the gate of the Drive-In to inform and redirect cars, but the wet Bear was either ignored, or all but mowed down by anxious drivers. As a Bear though, he was not easily intimidated, standing firm and tall, repeating the same instruction to every approaching car. Wish he could have had a loudspeaker with a recorded message! 

 

Courtesy of Titangos Photography

Paul managed to make the earliest U-turn possible, against the convoluted given directions. But once at the destination, we were confronted with cars from every directions all heading toward the same lot. Once in the lot, we saw people on foot dashing around in the rain to do their shopping too, for there was a half-price sale going on in a number of the Bear stores. Driving further to the end of the lot, we found ourselves jammed into a small alley, with lines of waiting cars packed three abreast. Two cars at a time from each line were allowed to go forward to the food facility. 

Courtesy of Titangos Photography

A heavily fortified group of Grey Bears greeted us in front of the facility door. In due time, we received our 2022 holiday dinner trays, after our names were checked out by a frail mama Bear who was working furiously through a thick stack of name sheets from A to Z. We thanked them and drove away quickly to let the next car come forward. I could not help but wonder if other Bears could share some sheets from her, with perhaps a few alphabetical lists.

Courtesy of Titangos Photography

We smiled at each other, feeling at once grateful and generously understanding. We got our holiday meals slowly but surely. More often than not, it is easier to work with one system, such as 2020's dinner that was delivered smoothly with military precision during the Covid-19 time. Two years later, we have transitioned to a hybrid time that will inevitably give rise to confusion and inconsistency. When there are too many chiefs in a tiny kitchen, engaged in many projects simultaneously, it will inevitably create a difficult situation, throwing a monkey wrench into the system. The long-waited rain delighted but dismayed many people in Santa Cruz at the same time.

Thank You, Buttery Bakery!

Last Saturday morning, we ordered a carrot cake for Paul's birthday for pick-up the next day, Sunday at 2:30 pm, the shortest turnaround time possible to be ready for our son Nick and granddaughter Leni from Pleasanton to join us then. Two hours later, Nick called us to move their visit time to today, Saturday, because he was on call for his company's system update the next day.

In hope against hope, we called the Buttery to see if we could postpone the cake to next Wednesday, which was Paul's birthday, or ideally, get the cake the same day (today), so two families could enjoy it. Despite the bad cellular connection, the server was totally understanding and supportive by prioritizing our order. We could not believe our ears on hearing that we could pick up our cake in two hours at 4:30 pm, half an hour before closing. "Owing to the limited time, the cake may not have the usual writing," she cautioned us.

Four of us and a memorable early birthday dinner. Afterwards, we proceeded to the cake ceremony by opening the white Buttery box. To our great surprise and delight, we saw "Happy Birthday, Papou Paul!" on the cake. Now we have fully understood why we go the Buttery for our family's birthdays, graduations, and wedding, not only for their exquisite cakes, but more essentially, for their outstanding customer care, and flexible and compassionate services. It is what a community is all about.

Thank you, Buttery Bakery and its staff! 

It Is Official: Lunar New Year Is a State Holiday in California!

Last night, I read from my WeChat class group that California has become the first state to recognize the Lunar New Year as an official state holiday. Via Yahoo! News, I learned more details about Governor Gavin Newsom signing AB 2596 which authorized state employees to observe the Lunar New Year. The reason is twofold: the holiday provides all of us a chance to leave behind the troubles of the past year and greet prosperity and good luck in the new year. It also acknowledges the diversity and culture of Asian Americans to California and lets the whole state celebrate.

Courtesy of https://news.yahoo.com/

I am immensely proud of the State of California to have achieved another FIRST in its long list of FIRSTS to be innovative and original. It is truly refreshing, after years' research on California libraries in the early 20th century. 

I also feel extremely thankful, even though it has brought very few ripple effects where I am. The system I have been working for since 1999 has little knowledge of the Chinese New Year, or Lunar New Year. But my siblings and I celebrate the festival anyway with our families by taking time off to prepare food, writing, and calling each other and overseas relatives. It is a significant and long tradition with valid reasons as the governor has stated above. It is good to be recognized culturally and politically being Asian Americans.

Courtesy of https://news.yahoo.com/

Missing Kumsil

On the late afternoon of August 6, 2022, I was informed that Kumsil had passed away. All of a sudden, I was hit by profound sadness.

Kumsil is the mother of our daughter-in-law. Since our children's marriage, we have only met her and her husband Ray twice, once at the wedding in 2010, and the other, at the announcement of Leni's ultrasound existence in 2014. 

At the beginning, we had tried to keep in close touch by exchanging emails, birthday cards and Christmas gifts. More than once, Kumsil invited us to visit them in San Diego before they sold their big property. While I was staying at Hui's to take care of my mother after her second hip surgery, Kumsil called me every night to chat. Then and there, I was deeply touched and resolved to have her as my new sister. 

Apparently, I did not do a good job in keeping my own promise. Over the years, I had been too preoccupied with my mother's long-term illness, and stress over my own career, to notice people around me, until this summer. There have been many changes happening: friends have retired, nieces and nephew either graduated or married. The third generation are growing up tall while older friends and family members are getting weaker.

Kumsil is one of the latter. Only one month older than I, Kumsil came to this country from Korea to marry her husband Ray. Her arrival was about the same time as mine. In her lifetime, Kumsil had tried to help her family by bringing them here, one after another, to San Diego. With Ray's help, she even managed to provide her three siblings with job opportunities. Being an artistic, sensitive, and fragile woman, Kumsil was well-taken care of by her husband, mother, and sister for decades. She was declining gradually after the departure of her mother, but rapidly after the illness and death of her husband less than two years ago. She did not recover from a succession of tragic losses, even though her widowed sister came back into her life again. The lingering Covid-19 did not improve her situation either.

It is sad to see another family member go, especially someone you have cherished but somehow neglected. Hope Kumsil will have a better and easier time in heaven. One needs lust for life to survive on this planet.

A Slow Return Trip to Beijing

My brother finally arrived at his Beijing apartment, after two weeks' COVID tests, hotel quarantines, and many changes in modes of transportation, regulations, and time. As a determined and cheerful man, he is not so easily deterred by difficulties or obstacles. But this trip to United States has taken its toll on him.

To join his daughter's Stanford commencements for BS and Masters degrees on June 12th , and his son's wedding celebration on July 3rd, my brother jumped on a train from Beijing to Shanghai on June 9th, as there was no direct flight to the States from the capital city. On the same day (because of the time difference across the Pacific), he was picked up by Paul at San Francisco Airport (SFO), and stayed with us in Santa Cruz overnight. His wife, daughter and a neighbor joined him the very next day to get ready for the graduation over the hill. After a few days' sightseeing in the vicinity of the Bay Area, he and his family returned to their New York home. Things went smoothly without too many delays, or mishaps.

On the Fourth of July, he flew back to California. According to China's stringent COVID regulations, he would need a COVID test within 24 hours' of boarding the flight, from where he had landed, i.e., SFO, so as to obtain a green QR code to be eligible for flying. As the regulations underwent a new revision right before his departure, he had to do two tests, both 48 and 24 hours prior to flight. To comply with the newly announced rule, he changed his early flight to a late one.

As soon as two tests were completed, my brother submitted the required forms, and uploaded his negative results to the designated authorities, but the green QR code was slow in coming. Through the nick-of-time intervention on the part of his secretary, he obtained the much-needed green code, barely hours before his flight to Shanghai. It turns out that a wrong date on his form for the first test was the culprit of his pending status. 

Once in Shanghai on July 7th, he was quarantined in a hotel for seven days, without being able to step out his room door. On the seventh day, he was informed that he had to quarantine for another three days, because a COVID case was detected nearby. Confined and restricted for a week, my brother did not lose his mind, but resorted to resourcefulness. Seeing reasoning fail, he called a municipal hotline. Thank goodness, the hotline listened by allowing him to continue the quarantine in our Shanghai home apartment. Because of the add-on quarantine, he had to cancel the flight to Beijing and book a train instead. He learned later that hotel guests who checked in at the same time with him had to stay for another week after their ten days' stay, because a new guest from Japan had tested positive, even though the former were all in their own rooms, and not anywhere near the newcomer.

On Monday the 18th,  my brother finally reached his apartment in Beijing, only to be told that the three-day quarantine was extended to a week, reflecting yet a new change in the rules.

What a return trip that took a fortnight's time from New York to Beijing by air, in the name of COVID zero cases! 

 

 

Stanford Commencement -- Why do We Need Tradition?

Around 10:00 am, yesterday morning, Paul, Leni and me set off together to go to Stanford University. Emily, our youngest niece, and my brother Ying's youngest child had invited us to attend her two commencements, one for a Bachelor degree in Mathematical Computing, and the other, a Master in Computer Science.

Leni was especially excited to be reacquainted with her new aunt. Five years ago, she met Emily who had just flown in with her parents to start at Stanford. Today, 7-year-old Leni finished her first grade, while her aunt Emily was ready for her new chapter at Microsoft. To add more excitement, she was going to see again her other aunt Stephanie who she had also met five years before at the same family lunch in San Mateo. She could hardly contain herself.

It is our second commencement this year. On May 18, we went to Stephanie's doctorial commencement at Berkeley. We skipped the campus wide commencement for all graduates, considering that two events combined might be too lengthy for Leni to endure. We opted for Emily's departmental commencement.at 12:30 p.m. At the reception, we were regrouped with Nick, Stephanie, and finally the honoree's entourage consisting of her parents and fiancé Justine.  

Like last time, eight of us occupied a row of chairs. Even though there was only one commencement speaker, at a much smaller scale with less graduates, the tradition remained comfortably the same, namely, once the speech was over, graduates would be lined in a queue, ready to be called on to the platform to receive their symbolic diplomas, or to be crowned after a brief introduction about their majors and future plans. The whole duration would not exceed two hours, whether it were 300 graduates last time at Berkeley or 100 graduates this time. Again, we all cheered when Emily's name was announced. Of course, the loudest cheer was from Leni who even did an encore. 

Once the commencement was over, we sauntered toward the Stanford Quad, and Paul did a tense photo session there for Emily and her guests, for everyone's energy and patience were running low after long sittings, especially for little Leni whose eyes were all glazed with too much excitement and rich food. Unlike public institutions with tight purse strings such as Berkeley, Stanford was oozed with wealth, with receptions held everywhere in and outside the roomy Quad. You could literally pick any food from any booth you would fancy, reminding me of Ying's doctorial reception in 1990, with only four of us attending, Hui, Baolin, 3-year-old Wendy and I. "There is something ritualistically familiar about commencements," commented Ying, as if he had sensed my thinking, "It is boring and lengthy, but people still love to hold on to the tradition." Very true, this is why tradition can exist and live on by honoring achievers, their families and teachers, and by showing the next generation how it is done.

In a pre-selected restaurant with Shanghai flavor, nine of us were treated by the honoree's parents. Everyone was happy and light-hearted that the commencement was a resounding success. The most philosophic and profound speaker was Leni who was reminiscent of her late grandfather Ray, hardworking mom and loving brother Paul. The plentiful dinner was topped with Stephanie's rum cake that celebrated the successful college life of her generation for the time being.