Reunion with Fudan Classmate

Two days ago, June 17, Paul and I went to the Santa Cruz Wharf to meet my schoolmate Michael Lu for lunch. At 11:30 a.m., it was busy inside Riva Fish House, partly because of a sudden heat wave in the Bay Area, partly because of the COVID-19 restrictions being lifted in California two days previously. Our thirty minutes' wait list period was mercifully spared, for Michael had already been inside the restaurant to secure the table. He called my cell phone to warn us, but it was buried and muffled in my purse. Deservedly, I was downgraded to the lowest caste of those who do not use the cell often in our group WeChat.

I have not seen Michael since our graduation from Fudan in 1982. He has really changed, establishing himself from a news reporter to a successful family law lawyer. After a decades-long legal career and raising a family of four, he has sold his law firm and transitioned to a final retirement. Unlike some schoolmates who were selected by the university authorities to go to Cambridge or Harvard, Michael started from scratch by putting himself through law school, and set up his own practice in the state of Maryland.

Prior to out meeting, Michael always struck me as a little too self-satisfied. But, in person, he is sincere and soft spoken, quickly winning Paul's heart. Without any reservations, the quiet Paul readily narrated his own legal success with navigating through the troublesome INS for our two family members.

Owing to either his profession or personality, Michael is well-informed of the lives and achievements of our schoolmates of '77 and '78 in the Foreign Languages Department. It seems that everyone has had a go after graduation, either as top academies, or as ordinary professionals. The university equipped us well with its fame and quality teaching. Now we are facing the final equalizer: retirement and eternity. A brave new world!

Courtesy of Titangos Photography

 

Back to Berkeley to Celebrate Stanford Graduates

Last Wednesday, June 16, Paul and I went to Berkeley to celebrate our youngest niece Emily and her boyfriend Justin, graduating from Stanford University. 

It is an emotional trip for us both on multiple levels. It was truly a joyous moment for us all. Emily is the last in her generation to graduate from college. After our son Nick graduated from Berkeley in 2008, we did not visit there since. Since June 1996 when I left Berkeley for Santa Cruz, I had not lived there on a daily basis. Now everything seemed at once familiar and different. Many memorable buildings along Martin Luther King, Jr. Drive were all there, looking the same, but we knew instinctively that they had been changed with either ownership or functional purpose. 

At 6:00 p.m., we arrived at Josephine Street where my middle niece Stephanie and her boyfriend Tyler, were hosting the celebration party with due coordination with cousin Emily. They moved here during the COVID-19 limitations, with only a virtual tour of the apartment. But it was a cozy place for a pair of graduates. Since we were half an hour early, we put ourselves to use by helping the hosts clean, wash, and decorate to get ready. It was a hot day throughout the Bay Area that day. With the San Francisco Bay within the sight, it was actually quite pleasant on the roof deck. 

We were soon joined by Nick from Pleasanton, and much later by our guests of honor, accompanied by Emily's mother, my sister-in-law Sue. They were delayed on their way in from Napa, due to road accidents and commuting traffic. The food sponsored by my sister Hui from the East Coast was plentiful and delicious, just enough for the ferocious appetites of five young people plus their three elders.

Looking around at all five happy youngsters, especially the two nieces, one who starts her Masters program in the fall, while the other graduates next June from her doctoral program at Berkeley, Sue, Paul and I were smiling with an inner sigh of relief. For now, we have managed to complete the passing of the baton from our parents. The road ahead is wide open, though not without setbacks and obstacles. Hopefully with adequate upbringing, education, family support and their inner strength, they are able to go forward and onward.

Courtesy of Titangos Photography

Our Book Club

Unlike many book clubs, our book club does not have either an impressively long history, or a large membership. Evolved from a big Thursday dinner group in early 2017, it has only four members meeting one Saturday each month, to continue to talk about what was on our mind. The brief time at the monthly dinner was often not adequate for airing our thoughts fully.

The short history of our book club is punctuated by its frequent change of meeting locations. It started at each member's living room or kitchen, and then graduated to local libraries equipped with free meeting rooms or spaces. Scotts Valley Library had both small study rooms and outdoor decks. But some Saturday staff there were strict disciplinarians: we could not use a room more than one hour per day, even when all the rooms were widely available. Outdoor decks were free from the staff's severe scrutiny, but we had to contend with the fierce valley sun beating on us, or strong corridor winds. When we moved to Live Oak Library, we did not fare much better. There was no meeting space inside. Sitting outside the library, we had to endure both the direct sun, and glaring glances from fellow sitters who sharer the same seating preference as us. The location dilemma, however, has been magically resolved by the invention of Zoom meetings, since the March 2020 shutdown to isolate COVID-19. As our Zoom is free, we have to limit our book discussions to 45 minutes each month. In the final analysis, our freedom of space is won at the expenses of time.

I was no fan of book clubs, since my reading taste is not only peculiar, but also narrow. I felt it uncomfortable, and even invasive if anyone would suggest or recommend a so-called good book, as my firm belief is that personal reading choices are rather private. Four years of book club reading has transformed me beyond recognition. Not withstanding the writers' lightweight view toward academic science and disciplines, I have gone through books like Delia Owens' Where the crawdads sing, Brit Bennett's the Vanishing half, and Janet Skeslien Charles' the Paris library.

To my greater surprise, I have found myself slowly climbing out of my comfort zone, and expanding my horizons by reading our book club selections, such as Tana French's the Searcher, Arlie Russell Hochschild's Strangers in their own land, Kate Moore's The radium girls, Laura Moriarty's The chaperone, Ann Patchett's the Dutch house, and State of wonder, Lara Prescott's The secrets we kept, Wallace Stegner's Angle of repose, and Kevin Wilson's Nothing to see here. 

Our book club has also enabled me to be less discriminating but more tolerant toward life and the people around me. With the aid of eAudios, I am able to finish two required books per month. The bedtime book choices, however, are dedicated to my pleasure reading of favorite British and Scandinavian mystery writers.

Time to Re-Read Farewell to Manzanar

Last Friday night, my brother called me from Beijing, telling me that his daughter in New York was concerned about the anti-Asian violence, and wanted to do something within her power. "Ask her to read or re-read Farewell to Manzanar," I said. Recently, I have read Farewell to Manzanar by Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston and James D. Houston. I found it at once timely and relevant, even though the book was published nearly fifty years ago in 1973, and its subject matter dealt with the mistreatment and detention of Japanese Americans during World War II.

Courtesy of Amazon.com

Along with her nine siblings, Jeanne Wakatsuki was born as a Nisei, the second generation of Issei, the first generation of Japanese Americans. Growing up in Santa Monica, California, she never set foot outside the county of Los Angeles until the Attack on Pearl Harbor (7 December 1941). Her father was arrested on the charge of selling oil to Japanese submarines offshore. Soon afterwards, her mother received an order to leave for a detention camp. The seven-year-old Jeanne followed her family to head for Manzanar, one of the ten American concentration camps to hold over 120,000 Japanese Americans from March 1942 to November 1945. Joined by the father who was released later, the Wakatsukis and their extended families stayed in the camp for a year and half. 

The deep-rooted racial prejudice against any non-white could trace back to 1870 when U.S. Congress granted citizenship to all free whites and African descendants, without mentioning any Asian nationalities. At her young and tender school age in Boyle Heights, Jeanne already sensed coldness from her teacher, and outright hostility from many Caucasians. Such hostile attitudes escalated with the outbreak of war after Pearl Harbor. She remembered, "Tolerance had turned into distrust and irrational fear. The hundred-year-old tradition of anti-Asian sentiment on the West Coast soon resurfaced, more vicious than ever." (page 18) 

If not at the insistence of Jeannie and her husband James, the Farewell never would come into being. In her Foreword, she mentioned the possibility of writing about the interment of Japanese Americans in the 1940s, but was flatly discouraged by a friend from New York who proclaimed was a dead issue. But the authors knew only too well there and then that eradication of racial inequity and prejudice would not be accomplished overnight, requiring generations' efforts. People might be issued out, as the her New York friend stated, for one generation, but the prejudice will surface whenever time and place are ripe, as with the George Floyd incident and Asian Hate crimes today.

Paulie Is Back Home Today

Around 11:25 am this morning, Paul and I finally set off for Pleasanton, to return 3-year-old Paulie, or Little Paul, to his parents and older sister. 

Big Paul was our designated driver, while I was sitting in the back seat with the Little Paul who seemed to know that it was the last day for his two months' stay in Santa Cruz. Just as he would do during our daily walk, he bid farewell through the car window to the passing airplanes, houses, pedestrians and vehicles. Unlike his usual cheerful self, he appeared serious and solemn all the way, until Highway 17's sharp twists and turns upset his stomach so much, that he burst into cries and a bit of car-sickness. 

Luckily I had in my purse two Ty Beanie teddy bears. Comforted by the soft Peace Bear, Paulie finally stopped crying and started to clutch his old companion, one of his five cuddly sleeping buddies. He was pleasantly surprised when given the brown Beanie Bear a short while later. Looking at his happy face, I could not help thinking of the simple truth that all things were created for a purpose. In the late part of the 1990s, I bought nearly a hundred Beanie Babies as a hobby for collectibles. Since the fad died down, some Beanies have been given away as baby gifts, some put in a box stored in the garage, and some others have languished in the display case, until Paulie came along. Peering though the glass after his first arrival, he couldn't believe his eyes and wanted to have them all. 

Over an hour later, Paul pulled along our son Nick's curbside. He and his wife Lee Anne smilingly appeared, and released their little boy from his car seat. "Paulie is back home!" Thus Paul and I completed our two-month childcare mission. 

Since the Covid-19 Pandemic, public schools have been shut down until very recently, while the private ones have offered only limited hours which severely interfered with working parents' schedules. For this reason, Paulie came to live with us beginning on January fourth this year. For two months, Paul was a full time butler, feeding his namesake grandson, and putting him to bed both for naps and for the night, while stimulating his mind with books, words, and exercise during the day. In the background, I was a half-time cook and cleaner. 

It is truly a rich experience to be reacquainted with the innocence of a three-year-old child, through whose eyes we have gained a fresh knowledge of Santa Cruz, its intimate neighborhood, open ocean, beach, enchanting flowers, plants, trees, and friendly people. Paulie's undiluted love for both people and animals is devoid of biases. He would say Hi to all passersby, including the sullen ones who could not help themselves but stop to smile and greet back. He would be full of joy at seeing every bird, cat, dog, and squirrel in sight. Even a raccoon statue in a yard did not escape his observation at Rodriquez and Capitola Road Extension. His daily admiration for the statue was such that the very house owner(s) moved the raccoon from inside the yard to the edge of road. Little have they realized that the fervid admirer is back home in Pleasanton!

Big St. Bernard, Big Heart

Pleasure Point is a haven for K-9s, and heaven for our 3-year-old grandson, Paulie, who adores his doggie friends and their kind owners.

During a lunch break, we trio, Paul, Paulie and I, strolled along the Point. It was a perfect day out, with the warm sun and cool wind. Not long after we got out of the car on East Cliff, Paulie spotted a brown & white St. Bernard. Up close, he was so fascinated by this giant that he stretched his hand, hoping to touch it just for once.

“Can he pat him?” Paul asked the lady owner on behalf of Paulie. “Of course. And he will like that too,” replied she. Paulie tentatively put his little had on the St. Bernard, and stroked very gently his wide and soft back. Paulie squealed with pleasure, and apparently the pleasure was mutual. The St. Bernard stood still, soaking in the soft touch and baby love.

The owner cautioned Papou Paul not to come too closer, for the St. Bernard was adopted with a history of abuse by a male. He was living the good life today, but something in the past still caught up with him.

Without any mishaps, but full satisfaction, we three bid our farewell to the St. Bernard and his gracious owner and resumed our Pleasure Point walk. In the far distance, we heard some faint calling. It turned out to be the lady owner who waved high a small green object. She was running alone to return Paulie’s sippy-cup dropped on the ground while he was patting his big K-9 friend. What a generous and caring lady! No wonder the once abused St. Bernard can live beyond a full age of ten.

Happy Birthday, Paulie!

 Paulie, our little grandson, is three years old today! 

It has been a beautiful day with dazzling blue sky and shimmering warm sunshine. At 4:00 pm, Paul and I finally stopped our work on hand for a while to start our daily walk. On hearing some buzz above, we saw four single prop airplanes making various formations in the sky. As if determined to accompany our walk, they dipped up and down, far and near, but never left us for a second. Joining them were clans of crows flying westward to their roosts. What a busy Sunday afternoon!

As if it were not busy enough, Nick called to coordinate a birthday party for Paulie on FaceTime. There would be three families together, his family of four in Pleasanton, Kumsil, Joseph and Nancy down in San Diego, and Paul and me in Santa Cruz. 

Courtesy of Titangos Photography

As planned, we heard FaceTime ringing shortly after 5:00 pm. Chatting, and laughing, Leni and Paulie occupied the whole camera, while five adults, Papou, two grandmas, uncle and aunt, were admiring them approvingly and indulgently. Both kids were so excited at the anticipation of a birthday cake made of chocolate and cream. Paulie duly made a wish, blew out his candle, and got down to his business of eating cake, and opening his birthday presents which turned out to be a miniature car and fire truck. He was simply in seventh heaven. This is the first year Paulie was able to grasp the meaning of a birthday celebration, and Leni could help her little brother by opening the gift wrapping and playing with the vehicles.

The party was dispersed soon afterwards, after exchanges of love and wishes for all, and over 60 screen captures from Paul. Cannot wait to see them.

Happy Birthday, Paulie. Happy work anniversary to me. Paulie not only shares my Year of the Chicken, but also the memorable day of December 20th when I started to work for SCPL in 1999.

Grey Bears of Santa Cruz

People in Santa Cruz have lots of things to feel proud of, such as Hawaiian-like scenery with the lush. green Santa Cruz mountains, the blue ocean, mild weather, progressive politics, and relatively controlled population growth. There is one more unparalleled achievement for them to have great pride in: The Grey Bears of Santa Cruz that have contributed significantly to the well-being of the county's environmental protection as well as to their aging population. In fact, it is a one of a kind organization in this country.

At 12:40 pm, Paul and I drove to pick up our scheduled holiday dinner. Grey Bears organizes two annual events, Holiday Dinner and Harvest Picnic. Owing to Covid-19 this year, The sit-in Holiday Dinner has been changed to two Sunday drive-through pickups on December 6 and 13 to serve its 4300 Santa Cruz senior members. 

As it rained heavily around noon, we were a little bit worried about the waiting time. But our worry was unwarranted, for half a dozen volunteers made an almost 180 degree circle to direct the incoming traffic all the way from Chanticleer Avenue to the food facility. They were all in long raincoats, with reindeer horns on their heads, courteously waving our cars forward. There were about half-dozen people greeting us at the facility, checking our names and delivering the dinner trays to each car. As a special treat to end our pickup, a cheerful young boy volunteer waved us Happy Holidays.

Courtesy of Titangos Photography 

Both Paul and I were deeply impressed with today's unique Holiday Dinner pickup. The whole event was well-organized and executed. There was hardly any waiting in the queue, since a schedule had been in place for the various ten-minute pickup slots. Volunteers and senior customers alike were happy and festive, despite the driving rain and hovering pandemic. 

Grey Bears has truly made our holiday season special. I could not help but wonder about its origin, even though we have been its members for years. Grey Bears of Santa Cruz was founded in 1973 by two visionaries, Kristina Milliard and her boyfriend Gary Danny to support the undernourished elderly poor in Santa Cruz, with fruits and vegetables from their home gardens, which soon spread like a wild fire. In 1974, the first Grey Bears Holiday Dinner was hosted at the Santa Cruz Civic Auditorium. In 1981, the first Harvest Picnic took place at Harvey West Park. As early as in 1975, there were 1200 Grey Bears members, with $1 membership which has now increased to $30 for its 4300 members. 

According to Our Mission-Who We Are, Grey Bears has delivered 2.3 million pound of food, provided over 1,916.550 meals, and served 40,000 hot meals from its kitchen. How can a nonprofit organization with modest membership fees sustain such an impressive contribution, and stay even stronger five decades and more later? There are several winning elements to the sustainability of Grey Bears business success. 

First of all, Grey Bears is savvy at business transactions, especially in its real estate purchases. Unlike Santa Cruz County Senior Center which still pays exorbitant rent to the Live Oak School District, Grey Bears purchased its first lot at 2710 Chanticleer Avenue in 1985, and adjacent lot at 2650 Chanticleer in 1992, the third lot at 2620 Chanticleer in 1996, and the fourth lot of 10,000 square foot at 2608 Chanticleer in 2008 as a food distribution facility. With ample space, it was able to expand its operations, such as the contract with the county to set up a public recycling center in 2000, and e-waste recycling in 2002, and to spin off a computer lab and store. In addition, it has started a composting program with the county since 2006.

Secondly, Grey Bears is a shining example at utilizing volunteers. In 2018-2019 alone, it had 810 volunteers; with an annual average of 81,460 volunteering hours. Unlike some governmental agencies which hire highly paid positions to supervise volunteers, Grey Bears relies on talented and experienced volunteers for administrating all operating posts, such as food assembly and delivery, teaching classes, manning both physical and online stores, repairing electronics, composting, office and data entry, etc.

Thirdly but not lastly, Grey Bears knows how to recycle and turn donations into value-added products at its thrift and electronic stores. Instead of dreading donations as other some public agencies do, it redistributes the return profits back to circulation to support and sustain itself.

The Baztan Trilogy

Paul and I spent the last three nights viewing the Baztan Trilogy on Netflix. The trilogy is based on the novels by Dolores Redondo, a phenomenally successful crime novel writer in Spain. It become more fascinating when it was produced by German producer Peter Nadermann who was involved in the adaptations of Stieg Larsson and Henning Mankell’s novels. 

It is truly a welcome treat to watch the setting in rain-drenched and lush-forested Basque Country, when California hast suffered both persistent droughts and forest fires. The trilogy has every desirable element: a young female Inspector Amaia Salaza commands a team to investigate a serial killer of young girls in several towns of Spain (The Invisible Guardian). Gradually, the murder of teenager girls is transitioned to the mysterious death of infant girls and the belief of hundred-year-old mythology turns out to be a local cult and witchcraft sponsored by a rich and influential man (The Legacy of the Bones). The final Offering to the Storm is a full exposure of culprits behind all tragedies and Salaza's family secrets. 

It is interesting to see that Spain is a class- and wealth-conscious country. In general, the rich and famous are above suspicion, whenever a crime occurs. We observe it either from the TV documentary Camel, Who Killed Maria Marta, to the TV series High Seas. Since Salaza is a highly regarded local bakery, and Juez Javier Markina's father was wealthy, it takes the whole trilogy to unearth the root of all evil from these two families.

The other fascinating aspect is that the Spanish female protagonists are freer in demonstrating their feelings, such as loud weeping, public baby nursing, and casual extra-marital affairs, which perhaps enhances their femininity and Latin characteristics. 

Using the environment to create a mysterious and moody atmosphere is of great necessity. The incessant rain at a times turns into floods and certainly helps to expedite car crashes, body injuries, and criminal activities. The eternal dark skies and evening/night scenes have indeed trademarked the genre of horror and even post-apocalyptic themes. I cannot help but wonder if rainy Spain might have contributed, after all, to the drought and fires in California and other north-western states.

 

Forest Is Born

My big niece Wendy gave birth to her son Forest this morning, 10/21/2020. It is a happy baby of 8 pounds, and 7 ounces; 21 inches long.

His birth is of great significance on at least three counts. He is the first baby born to two families who had been waiting anxiously for years. His middle and last name Wang Lubell-Doughtie represented and melted three ethnic groups into one. 

He is also a baby of modern medicine. With the accurate diagnose, treatment and care of his mother's doctors from Cornell and Yale, he is born strong and healthy. 

Welcome, Forest. Congratulations his parents, and grandparents. Congratulations, America!