Finally Feeling at Home

I thought I'd do a better job.

At the time of my last post I was fully resolved to keep the posts coming. Then reality hit. And she hit hard. As many of you probably know, Sumie and I have spent the past few months securing, and making our own, a new home in Marin county, across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco. As such, free time was a bit hard to come by.

The upside is that now, after months of searching, financial wrangling, bargaining, landscaping, furniture shopping, and picture hanging, we are finally "fully in" and comfortable. There's still plenty left to do (second stage of the back yard, redoing the front yard, painting, the list goes on and on...), but we definitely have reached the point at which we're ready to share our new home, at last, with our friends and family.

Here's a shot of part of the front of the house. The lemon tree, which I'm hoping to prune in the near future, is blocking the view to the front door. While it somewhat mars this picture, it does provide a wonderful, fresh scent which we experience each morning on the way out to work.  For me, it's become a bit like that first smell of coffee in the morning.

Following the cement path around the lemon tree to your right will take you to the back yard. When we purchased the home there was no lawn - just "beauty bark" which provided little enjoyment and plenty of splinters. I'd like to say I installed the lawn myself, but the only claim I'll be able to make is regular watering and mowing.

As you can see from the picture below, Mimi likes to ride her tricycle along the cement path. She takes it all the way from the backyard to the front door.

She also likes to ride on the deck, particularly when she's feeling like she wants to stay closer to Mama and Papa. When we first moved in, Mimi was a bit apprehensive about the backyard, but now she loves it. She talks about it like one of her favorite toys - "I'm going to go home and play in my backyard!" The time outside has also helped with her coordination. When we first moved in she could barely ride her tricycle more than a few feet. Now she tears around the yard, sometimes pedaling - proudly, I might add - with just one foot.

In our living room you'll find our couch and chair from New York, as well as my father's piano. We're keeping it simple; it's a place where one can escape the TV, and sometimes the toddler, and read or write. The piano, however, still needs to be tuned (as Sumie continues to remind me).

The kitchen is on the smaller side, but at least has been remodeled and has a great little dining nook (I was standing in it when I took this picture) opening out onto the back yard. We're doing a lot more cooking these days and it's felt good to get back into the rhythm of making our own food at home.

The only real furniture purchase we made for the new home was a matching pair of couches for the family room. This is where we spend most of our time, so we thought the investment worth it. There are many things that make you feel "adult" in life - graduation, buying a home, having children, etc. I would like to add "matching furniture" to that list. For a brief moment, after the couches arrived, I felt like I was in the home of one of my friends' parents. And then I realized it was mine. I guess I am getting old...

Here's a more "lived-in" picture of our family room, complete with plenty of Mimi's "projects" and other toddler mess-making necessities. The fact that Mimi's blurred in this picture is actually the best representation of the reality we live with. She is constantly running in the new house. And giggling, too. It's nice to finally not have someone above or below us so that we can raise our child a bit more free-range.

Around the time that we moved I was luckily granted the opportunity to work from home several days a week. I set up a small office in one of the back bedrooms, overlooking the backyard. This is where I spend several days each week. It's a great place to work, but sometimes the blue-jays are a bit noisy.

Of course, the house isn't all work and no play. I staked out a tiny space in our small garage for a computer-based arcade system. This was supposed to be my man-cave. Instead, it's become the Mimi-Papa room. Whenever I sit down to play a game, invariably, within 5 minutes, I'll hear the door open and a high-pitched call of "Whatcha doin', Papa?" That's Mimi-speak for, "I'm going to play video games with you now whether you like it or not."  Luckily, I generally like it.

Although we've been living in the Bay Area for two years now, this is the first time since we arrived that the house we live in is beginning to feel like a genuine home. I think part of this feeling must be that, like our place in NYC, this is genuinely ours (well, to be honest, it mostly the bank's, but at least one of the rooms, and maybe the lawn, we can lay claim to).  We're also making it more our own with some wonderful family events. The extra space in the new house is particularly helpful for when we have the family visit. For Mimi's 3rd birthday, we invited all of Sumie's family in the Bay Area, as well as Mimi's Grandma and Grandpa, up to the house to celebrate.

 The new family room served us well for opening presents...

...and for hosting six hungry kids at one table.

There was a lot of traffic between the living room and the back yard that day, as you can tell below.

Mimi loves her new "yellow house," and that's a good thing because Sumie and I bought it somewhat for us, but mainly for her. It's looking like this will be the kind of place she'll look back on when she's my age and think, "I had it pretty good growing up." Well, at least I hope so...

Pictures from our recent trip to NYC to come soon. Good to be back writing again!

Salvaging Toddlerhood

In terms of relatives, Mimi has been blessed. She is surrounded by cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends who love her. And those who are far away, like Obachan and Ojichan, call often. She has even had the chance to meet two of her great grandparents.

But blessed as she is, there is still a big hole in her life when it comes to relatives - one she doesn't know about just yet. Mimi came just a little late to meet her paternal grandfather - my dad, Dave.  He saw me take my first real step into adulthood - passing away not long after attending my wedding in New York - but he simply could not hold out to see me become a father. I know it pained him at the end, recognizing that he wouldn't be there for my children. It pains me, too, particularly on days like today, when Mimi and I embark on adventures like those I shared with my Dad, and especially when I catch glimpses of him in her along the way.

My father, like his father before him and his son who followed, was a bit of a collector, a bit of a scavenger, and a bit of a romantic when it came to the hunt: tearing through the castoffs of society for jewels inadvertently left behind. Love of the old, the out-of-date, the "why would you want this?" has always been in me - particularly when it comes to cars, toys, and stereo equipment - but I wasn't sure if it would translate to Mimi? While the jury is still out, it does seem that there's hope that I may have a scavenger in training.

Today, with Mama on call and Mimi and I seeking adventure, we decided to throw potty-training caution to the wind and take a trip to Urban Ore, an architectural salvage service in Berkeley. In essence, it is a massive warehouse piled high with doors, windows, cabinets, old stoves, sinks, toilets - the detritus of hundreds of home demolitions.  To me, it is a playground.  And to Mimi? Well, not quite a playground, but it was a lot of fun.

We arrived at the warehouse around 10:00am. Mimi - who insisted on wearing her yellow galoshes and carrying her completely naked baby - was ready for action.

We hit her father's favorite section first - the used electronics.  There were some beauties, but nothing high-end enough (or esoteric enough) to quite catch our fancy.  Mimi was impressed by the amazing collection of CD players and tape decks. "Push the buttons!" she cried.  She seems to enjoy obsolete things. Maybe that's why she tends to have such a good time with me.

Over the selection of desks and tables hung a massive moving mobile of 2 liter soda bottles. Mimi was mesmerized. This gave me a chance to actually dig through a few bins before Mimi decided she wanted full attention back on her.

Outside we came across hundreds of tubs, toilets, and sinks. As we walked through Mimi got excited about all the sinks on the ground. "Someone needs to pick them up, Papa!  It's so messy!" Despite her objection to the mess, the sink arrangements didn't worry her all that much. Finding a toilet in a bathtub, however, blew her little mind.  "There's a toilet in the bathtub, Papa!  There's a toilet in the bathtub!  That's so silly. Why's a toilet there, Papa?"  For once, I couldn't answer.

After our adventure in the salvage yards, we headed over to the Berkeley Bowl to pick up some lunch. At the checkout, Mimi put on her best impersonation of Jack Nicholson's Joker from the original Batman film.

Back at home it was very apparent that Mimi had worked up a serious apetite. She took down both sushi and pizza - the ultimate marriage of east and west.

It was a great outing - if only a few hours long - and it gives me hope that in the years to come Mimi and I will be able to create some memories much like those my own father and I made. She may never be a collector, but as long and she enjoys spending some time hunting for bargains with her Papa, I'll be happy.

Too Much Eating Out!

By Monday of last week, Sumie and I had to put a moratorium on eating out.  Even Mimi agreed.  She wanted to make sure she could still fit into her new Beatles shirt (it's her favorite).

We've been pretty good since arriving in San Francisco.  Back in NYC, we'd eat out or order-in at least 2-3 times a week, but here in SF we decided to cut back (the selection of restaurants in the Richmond district made this a bit easier).  This past week, however, we completely fell of the wagon.  Well, more like fell off the wagon and down a cliff.  Was it worth it?  Take a look.

About 10 days ago we hit Oyaji with my friend John and his girlfriend Jen.  They were down from Washington and we wanted to share a good meal with them.  We also wanted to eat at Oyaji's (it's rather amazing just how easily we find excuses for eating there).  We don't have any pictures because we were so transfixed by the food.

That wasn't the end of our Japanese food adventures, though.  On Saturday, Michelle, another friend of mine, this time from college, came down from Sacramento with her husband Paul, her son Owen, and Rin, a Japanese exchange student visiting the US for two weeks.  We decided to try a new ramen shop on Geary.  All ramen was half price, so why not?

I'm afraid I can't quite remember the name of the place (it's on Geary between 16th and 17th avenues).  It was their first day and the food was a bit hit or miss.  The ramen, while quite tasty, wasn't really traditional.  I didn't mind so much but Sumie pronounced, "Too much garlic!"  I definitely want to go back, though.  There's some real promise there and a few weeks may make a big difference.

The best part of the day, though, was catching up with an old friend and getting to know her family.  Rin, who is a freshman in highschool, was particularly outgoing for a Japanese boy and fell in well with both the kids and the adults.  Mimi and Owen hit is off almost instantly.

I don't know what it is about my little girl, but she loves playing with older kids, and, for some odd reason, older kids don't seem to mind her following about.  It's really cute now, but I worry what this is going to mean when she gets into high school.  Hmm.  Maybe it means she'll be going to an all-girls school. 

Here's the full group, sans Sumie and Michelle, who were busily taking pictures.  

Having had our fill of Japanese food, but not of eating out, we decided to go for brunch on Sunday morning.  We left the house early (for San Francisco) and arrived at Ella's shortly before 10:00.  It was already pretty packed, but we secured a seat within about 15 minutes.

We'd been trying to work our way into Ella's for the past month or two and it was definitely worth the wait.  Safe to say it was the best breakfast I've had in San Francisco so far.  The ambiance, noise, food, and price (unfortunately) reminded me of the nicer diners we'd frequent back in NYC.  As we finished off our massive plates of chicken-hash and omelets, savoring a meal in which Mimi was sufficiently distracted by all the commotion for us to eat, San Francisco began to feel just a bit more like home.  

We were fit to burst, we figured out eating out days were over, but then we received a call Monday night from Kae and family.  Could we meet them for Chinese in the Sunset district?  Sure, go ahead, twist our arm.  We were there even before Kae, Ed, and the rest of the family.  

We met at an old favorite of Ed's family's: Ming's Diner.  It was fantastic.  And reasonable!  If only they delivered.  The thinly sliced pork chops were, quite simply, a revelation.

But the best part of the dinner was the spontaneous train Nana, Lilly, and Mimi decided to make halfway through the meal.

It was a rather gluttonous long weekend, I have to admit.  Sumie, as a result, has been on a bit of a vegetable kick this week.  We're learning that this city, once you really start digging into it, can be a pretty dangerous place when it comes to food.  One thing is for sure: Mimi loves eating out.  She'll eat twice as much in a restaurant than she does at home.  I'm not sure if that's an indication of how much fun it is to eat out, or just how bad our cooking is.  I'm hoping it's the former. 

Put the Computer Away!!!

It's been two full weeks at my new job and I am sure of two things: I love it, and I'm tired.

The job itself is fantastic.  I'm teamed with a very diverse and insightful group of young people (I sometimes feel like the old hand) working to develop college-level courses on the internet and to revolutionize higher-ed along the way.  Very, very cool.  I'm thankful that I was able to secure a job, once again, with a mission in which I truly believe.  It goes a long way.

So too does working downtown!  My entire working life has been confined to small towns and suburbs.  Though I lived in Manhattan for 9 years, each day I would commute to the dowdy NJ suburb of Teaneck, where I'd look out on some trees, the traffic on I-95 rushing to NYC, and a parking lot.  The drive to work was always a bit of a letdown.  It wasn't until I started heading home and caught a glimpse of the New York skyline that my heart really started beating with feeling again.

Here in SF the tables have turned.  For the first time in my life I'm working "downtown."  And it rocks.  That surge I used to get coming home to Manhattan now occurs when I catch that first glimpse of the financial district on the bus as we head north around Arguello.  No matter what I'm listening to or reading, no matter where my head is, I always look up.

Simply being downtown keeps the beat going.  I'll sometimes take lunch on the roof of our building.  It's definitely an improvement over the Glenpointe Centre Parking Garage in Teaneck, NJ!

But there's a downside to all this.  I'm really tired when I get home.  90% of this I chalk up to the learning curve for my new position.  It's steep.  Fascinating, compelling, exciting, and rewarding, but steep.  By the time I get home each night my mind is a bit fried.

It's not just the challenge of a new job, though.  Part of it has to do with the commute as well.  Back in New York, I'd catch that first glimpse of the city - home - as I crossed the GW Bridge and my heart would begin beating a little faster.  My speed would pick up if the traffic allowed, often with the exhaust blast of an unnecessary but rewarding downshift, and I'd be heading for home energized.  Today I ride the bus.  I can't make it go faster.  Even by screaming at the traffic (trust me, I've already tried).  And I don't have that glimpse of the city signalling I'm coming home.  I'm not saying the commute home is a letdown, but there isn't that same adrenaline shot I used to get coming back into Manhattan.

I've been tired walking in the door each night for the past two weeks, and it's shown.  Earlier this week I asked Sumie why Mimi didn't want to play with me anymore.  She'd been rather standoffish toward me, particularly this last week, and I couldn't figure out why.  I thought it might have to do with me being away during the day (and it still might), but Sumie, I think, clued me in to the primary issue: "You're ignoring her!  You're always on your computer when you get home!"

I hate to admit it, but she was right.  Coming home each night my brain has been so worn out that I've taken to sitting on the couch in front of my laptop looking up anything that would take my mind out of work, and out of life.  I needed downtime, a way of clearing my head.  Unfortunately, this was pissing Mimi off.

When Sumie brought this up, I fought it for a few minutes, then finally coalesced.  She was right.  And so the laptop went away and I set my sights on playing with Mimi again.  As it turned out, we both welcomed the change!

The other day, laptop untouched, we headed to the backyard for some mischief.  It's been un-San Franciscanly sunny and warm recently, so we broke out the hose.  I'd shoot water up into the air...

...and Mimi would get drenched.  Occasionally she'd try to run away...

...but I was always able to track her down.  By the time we finished up, Mimi was soaked.  And quite happy.  

That led to both of us being genuinely tired.  Sumie, coming off a full week of work herself, was a bit sleepy as well.  As I watched the Giants game, Sumie and Mimi cuddled on the couch.  

Mama fell asleep first, and Mimi tried to wake her...

...but nap-time was simply too alluring.  Before long, both were asleep nestled across from me on the other side of the couch.  A very happy sight.  

I'm very happy to be back at work, but also happy to be learning how to find that balance between job and family.  Keeping that balance, at least for me, is the key to success both at work and at home.  And it's a lot more fun.

Jekyll and Hyde - Toddler Edition

It's been twenty or so years since I last read Robert Louis Stevenson's "Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."  I don't remember much of it, but that's OK because, thanks to my toddler, I live the tale every day.  Below is my own strange case of toddler split personality.

Here's Mimi riding her wagon into my office the other morning.  Note the massive smile.  This is her as Dr. Jekyll: kind, considerate, inquisitive, happy, helpful.

30 minutes later, when it came time to do laundry, she'd morphed into the devious, demonic, and surprisingly whiny Mr. Hyde.  I still don't understand what happened.  Maybe she just hates the gentle cycle.  

These transformations occur at the drop of a hot.  Last Friday, I picked Mimi up from daycare.  She had insisted on walking down the steps of the daycare herself while holding her bag which weighed more than her.  As a reasonably responsible father, I couldn't allow this.  Mimi went straight into Mr. Hyde mode, arching her body, flailing and wailing as I carried her down the stairs.  I somehow managed to get her out the door.

Upon exiting, Mimi spotted some flowers, which caused her to revert immediately to Dr. Jekyll.  Happy, friendly, and cute once again.  

This, unfortunately, lasted only as long as we were looking at the flowers. 

I thought I had seen the worst of Mimi's Jekyll and Hyde transformations.  And then I took her on a trip to Sacramento.  We were going up to celebrate the graduation of two of my cousins, one from High School and the other from College.  We dressed accordingly. 

On the drive up, Mimi managed to switch personalities 97 times.  This made life for me, the driver, a bit difficult.  Driving is hard enough without a toddler demanding that you sing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and then throwing chocolate Pocky at your head when you don't.

When we made it to the party, Mimi, confronted with a crowd, decided to channel Mr. Hyde and attack everything put in her path.  Even juice.  

Eventually, though, Dr. Jekyll came back thanks to some very kind cousins and an inspiring great grandmother.  Mimi could've stayed on that swing in Jekyll mode all day.  

Of course, all good things must come to an end.  It had been a massive day for Mimi and Mr. Hyde, along with at least 50 of his cronies, took full control of Mimi's personality as we headed out the door.  Using a hydraulic jack and several crowbars I was eventually able to get Mimi into her car seat.  Four minutes after hitting the road, she was out.  Cold.  Switching personalities takes some serious energy. 

We had a great time on our trip, but I do wish Mimi's mood swings could be a little less severe.  In Stevenson's story, the dark Mr. Hyde eventually wins out over the kind Dr. Jekyll.  Here's to hoping that life is kinder than fiction. 

Goodbye, Obachan.

On Tuesday, June 4th we received the painful news that Onobu Kato, Sumie’s grandmother, passed away.   

We knew it was coming – Sumie’s mother had left for Japan to be by her side two days before – but that foreknowledge has done little to lessen the blow.  It’s simply too hard to imagine the world without her. 

At 103, Mrs. Kato, “Obachan” to Sumie and me, had lived a full life.  And when one takes that remarkable life into full account, it’s safe to say she lived at least two if not three.  During a century of unprecedented change and historical upheaval, Mrs. Kato raised Sumie's mother...

 ...five boys, and minted not one, but two of Japan’s premier politicians: her husband and her youngest son.  She was an amazing political supporter, continuing to open her doors to the community and to discuss the political stage well into her 90s.  I can still recall her striking up a conversation about politics with complete strangers while waiting outside the banquet hall of her grandson’s wedding.   

She was one of the few people I’ve ever met who had a clear passion, and knew how to tap it. 

Coming late to the family, and speaking little Japanese, there’s no way I can even begin to sum up this woman’s tremendous life, but perhaps I can share a little bit of what made her so remarkable.  I only spent a few days with her in total, but, being the woman she was, they were enough for me to pick up her indomitable spirit – the spirit I see everyday in my wife and daughter.  

I’ll never forget the first time Sumie and I stayed with Obachan in her hometown of Tsuruoka, just east of the sea in northwest Japan.  We arrived to find Obachan’s substantial driveway covered by two feet of snow.  Within an hour of our arrival Sumie and Obachan had slipped deep into complex conversation that I couldn’t even attempt to follow, so I decided to be the helpful foreigner and shovel the drive.  This took four hours.  Neighbors still recall the day the fat “gaijin” came out of Mrs. Kato’s house to clear 50 metric tons of snow. 

When I came back in, it was time for dinner.  Obachan figured that I would be hungry, as I later learned, not just because of my work outside, but because of my more than ample gut.  Apparently, the surprising size of my waistline was one of her favorite topics of conversation with Sumie.  Perhaps thinking that my stomach was somehow linked to cooking ability, Obachan let me help her prepare the evening meal.   

This amazed me.  Here was a Japanese woman in her mid nineties, who had lived through World War II and the American occupation, inviting a shabby American, whose name she couldn’t quite pronounce (she called me “Stove” instead of “Steve”), to share her kitchen and her home.  And she was smiling.  To have lived so long and yet still be so open to new experiences and new people was genuinely inspiring. 

Our second outing together took place at a Japanese-style hot spring (onsen) overlooking the Sea of Japan.  As we drove into the small resort town, Obachan became enthralled with all the “new” hotels.  Most of these, though, had been around for at least ten or twenty years, but for Obachan, who had vacationed in that same town on the sea as a young girl each summer, the landscape was completely transformed.  Later, in our room, Obachan asked the chambermaid about all the new hotels.  The girl looked a bit perplexed.  Perhaps because most of the new hotels had been there since before she was born. 

Each evening during our stay, following a long and luxurious soak, Sumie, Obachan, and I would gather in our room to watch the sunset and enjoy a traditional Japanese dinner.   

Sumie would pour a glass of beer for me, and one half glass for Obachan, who would then take her seat facing the setting sun and the sea.  She’d take a sip of the beer and let out a tremendously satisfied “Oishii!” (Delicious!).   

As one might imagine, this made for a rather quiet vacation, but also a tremendous one.  Watching how Obachan not only enjoyed the simple joys of our stay, but soaked them up entirely, opened my eyes in a way no one had before.  Here was the good life, pure and simple.  After nearly 100 years, it was apparent that Obachan knew how to live it.  

Seeing Obachan this last February was bittersweet.  We knew it would be both Mimi’s first and last time to meet her.  After one hundred years of adventures, Obachan’s memory finally began to let go.  So too did her body.  By the time of our visit, Obachan didn’t recognize most family or friends and had taken to sleeping most of the day.  We didn’t know what to expect.  There had been days when she’d hardly stirred prior to our visit.  Would she wake this last time for us? 

True to form, she did.  Sumie sat by Obachan’s bed and gently stroked her hair as I held a curious Mimi just behind.  Obachan began to stir as Sumie called out her name.  

Ever so slowly she turned her head and then opened her eyes, catching her first glimpse of Sumie in over three years.  She didn’t know who the woman stroking her hair was, but the way she smiled at her hinted that they must somehow be connected.  It was too big and too sweet for a mere stranger.   Obachan’s gaze eventually shifted from Sumie to me and Mimi.  She was definitely intrigued by the presence of a gaijin in her room.  Perhaps she thought I was on a break from shoveling the drive. 

During our stay in Tsuruoka we were able to visit Obachan three times.  Despite her condition, she always woke for us.  Mimi was growing closer to her with each visit.  We could see it in the way she would whisper “Obachan” when it came time for the visit to end and then blow her kisses. 

There had been heavy snows during our trip, and each visit to Obachan’s convalescent home meant a trudge through the snow.  To this day, Mimi calls out “Obachan!” whenever she sees a snowy landscape.  We had many adventures during our snowy trip to Tsuruoka, but for Mimi, Obachan is what stuck. 

It’s entirely irrational thinking that those brief encounters between Mimi and Obachan have somehow put Mimi on a better path, but I can’t help but believe that’s the case.  These two women, one hundred years apart, are inextricably linked in blood and spirit.  That kind of connection transcends memory, transcends logic.  I have no doubt that, in the years to come, Sumie will catch the occasional glimpse of her grandmother in Mimi.  And in that way we know she will always be with us.  We will miss you, Obachan!