Violin Violin violin camp.

Full of violins and music and string orchestras and dues and also some soloists, too.

Full of music and broken strings.

Violin camp.

Daniel, we have left our blog untouched for weeks –almost months.   Get busy. 

September is stirring.   Our new journey is about to begin.

(Readers, I’m happy to note that my boy is now hard at work here in our “conference room.”)

At school, I’m working on Charles Lindbergh Biography.

My mother, sister, and I love to sing the “Eagle of the U.S.A” song at the end of this Lindbergh video.  Check it out!

Daniel has joined an orchestra –he loves it! 

After all, that’s one of the many things we find fascinating about the violin: the joy of creating harmony as part of a group.  Here is one of the three pieces Daniel’s orchestra will perform at an upcoming concert.  Click “Listen” and enjoy the lively, down-to-earth Mozart music, which will make you want to dance. 

Another thing we love about the violin: Unlike the piano, it’s portable.   When the weather is nice, especially during the summer, we try to practice outdoors as often as we can and savor the moments under a flawless sky.  The other day I had Daniel practice (not too easily, I must add) while we were watching his sister’s T-ball practice with her school buddies.  Yes, he initially complained, even bitterly; he also made silly mistakes, unable to concentrate for a long time.  But once he got going, he seemed to enjoy his first outdoor practice in months, after a seemingly endless winter.  My boy had a huge grin especially when spectators –perfect strangers– applauded, and one of them exclaimed, “You can always come to my house and play!”  

Keep going, Daniel.

Two unsmiling children wordlessly climb into the car.  At the end of a long day ending with violin lessons, all my kids could think of is supper.  But it’s also atypical Tuesday night.  I turn on the radio.  A sense of triumph creeps into Daniel’s voice.  His hero’s victory is imminent.  A cheer erupts.  It’s the beginning of a celebratory ride home.

The presidential race absorbed my eight-year-old son, an ardent Obama supporter, for months leading up to this eagerly-awaited victory.  Never mind that his mother occasionally lamented the missed opportunity to observe the making of the first woman President.  Clad in his school uniform, Daniel engaged in a spirited political debate with classmates, formed a campaign committee with buddies, cast his vote for his hero in the school’s mock election, and leapt for joy when the outcome confirmed his prediction.  “Why do you support Obama?”  I asked.   Daniel took pain to remind me of the all-too-familiar fact: He’ll be the first black President.  He solemnly declared: “It’s good for America’s future.” 

What fueled his relentless support?  I pondered, re-reading his blog post (written by him; typed by me) titled “Soreike(“go” in Japanese), Obama!”  Is it an unarticulated sense of a parallel?   Half-Caucasian, half-Japanese, Daniel, like Obama, is biracial.  Yet, even the word “biracial” may fail to fully capture my son’s background, which is arguably more unique and complex than being half-X and half-Y biologically.  A dual citizen with two motherlands, Daniel shifts constantly –and effortlessly– between his two mother tongues.  He receives a dual education through both American and Japanese schools. Twinkies and seaweed-covered rice balls  —the blend of the two worlds he inhabits resonates through his life.  Though he has never set his foot in his mother’s childhood landscape, he has come to embrace his ethnic and linguistic heritage.  On the other hand, he may have been unconsciously haunted by a sense of differing from others.

In the front mirror I catch a glimpse of Daniel singing a made-up victory song with his younger sister. An ear-to-ear grin crosses his face. His merriment evokes the memory of his school performance three years ago.  At an all-school meeting, my son’s Pre-K class performed a reenactment of the 1955 Montgomery Bus Boycott ignited by Rosa Parks.  This special event gave all students, from Pre-K to fifth grade, an opportunity to express their appreciation of Dr. Martin Luther King’s legacy through music, plays, and poetry.  As I held my breath, the fourteen Pre-K children marched in, carrying signs with phrases such as “Unfair Law!” and “Boycott!”, wearing black armbands with Dr. King’s pictures, and singing We Shall Overcome, a key anthem of the Civil Rights Movement.  In the background stood a bus made of cardboard.  Two teachers gave narratives of the historical background of the boycott while the children occasionally added to that dialogue. The students beamed with pride as the audience rewarded them with enthusiastic applause. 

Preparing for the performance, the five-year-olds had explored racial inequality as well as its social and emotional impact.  For instance, studying a photo of two separate drinking fountains, side-by-side, marked “Colored” and “White,” the children remarked to one another: Isn’t it silly that the same water flowed through two different fountains for different colored people?  Racism struck a chord with them especially when they recognized that the white-only policy would have banned some of their own teachers and friends from the school community. Daniel would have been banned himself.

The Pre-K performance also triggered my interest in revisiting the senseless murder of Emmett Till, a case analyzed in Racism and Law seminar in law school.  In the summer of 1955, Emmett whistled at a white female shopkeeper at a general store in Mississippi.  The fourteen-year-old traveler from Chicago had little knowledge of Jim Crow laws in the South.  A few days later, he was kidnapped by the woman’s husband and relatives.  His mutilated body was discovered on the bottom of a river.  When an all-white jury acquitted Emmett’s accused killers, the local media jubilantly announced the verdict.  (Shortly afterward, the accused sold their story to a journalist for $4,000, giving a gruesome account of murdering Emmett.  The verdict itself, however, remained unchanged.) Mamie Till held an open-casket funeral for her son, wanting the world to witness what had happened to her only child. 

Working as a Japanese newspaper columnist on the side, I conducted additional research on this case and wrote an essay, exploring racism from a parent’s perspective.  I wrote: As parents and adults, we all have messages to carry on —–to share with future generations, to educate and enlighten them, and to encourage and inspire them to pursue the tasks we may, unfortunately, leave behind.  In a photo next to my essay, Daniel, then five, proudly hoists a handmade sign blaring: “Boycott!” 

On this poignant November night, I reflect, once again, on the life lost in the sweltering heat of Mississippi –and the school performance, which gave Daniel his first insight into racial injustice in America.  I also think of my birthday four years ago: Under a flawless August sky that seemed like a gift on its own, my children and I werefrolicing downtown, chatting and laughing in Japanese.  Out of the blue, a passer-by whispered loudly to my son: “You’d better go back to Asia, Kid.”  At age four, Daniel remained too young to grasp her words.  Humming a song, my little boy in his green plaid shorts cheerily kept pushing his baby sister’s stroller.  My heart aches to this day.  When one becomes a parent, the social evil inevitably takes on a more profound meaning. I keenly recognize that the day may arrive –sooner than I think —when my children grapple with their own ethnic identity, experience a sense of isolation, and even endure pain. Racism will be with us despite the rhetoric of inclusivity.

As my children set out to explore the world and carve out an independent life, I hope they will cultivate the inner strength to withstand and overcome obstacles.  More importantly, I hope they, too, will carry on their own messages, not only in words but also in deeds, to help build a better world.  Until our children embark on their own journeys, we parents must carry the torch, leading the way.  I feel a renewed sense of purpose.  What message am I going to carry on?  I ask myself, savoring the joy-filled ride with my children on this historical night.

This is a piece I published while Daniel was still a preschooler and his sister was a baby (which seems so far away).   It depicts my commitment to raising bilingual and bicultural children. 

Looking back several years later, I can say, confidently and smilingly, that it has been well worth the effort (though I hasten to add that our endeavor will continue.)    My children receive a dual education through American and Japanese schools, and seem to thrive in both linguistic and cultural environments.  They have come to embrace their unique background quite naturally.  Twinkies and seaweed-covered rice balls   —- the blend of the two worlds they inhabit resonates through their lives.

P.S.  Daniel, it’s about time for you to work on another post, one way of displaying your bilingual skills!

She flashes her grin and triumphantly waves her hand, standing tall on the top of the slide.

You wave back to your three-year-old. It’s a glorious afternoon. Sitting on the bench, you savor the crisp air while your little girl earnestly explores this all-too-familiar playground. Another mother sits on the other end of the bench as her little girl embarks on her own exploration. Soon the two moms, perfect strangers, begin to relish their “adult conversation” for a change.

“I was/am an attorney,” you tell her (and yes, you do wonder whether it should be the past or present tense.) Okay, perhaps you’re a little self-conscious, looking down on your faded jeans. Perhaps you once glowed in a pinstriped suit. Perhaps your nails were meticulously painted. But those days feel almost impossibly distant now. “Oh?” The other woman opens her eyes wide. “So was/am I.” You two exchange knowing smiles and sigh, lamenting “lack of intellectual stimulation” in the domestic sphere.

I have often experienced this sort of exchange with another lawyer mom — on the playground, at a coffee shop, at a bus stop. Once I was a childless-by-choice woman in a politically progressive law school, where all of my five professors in my first semester were women, and where Ms. was so naturally chosen that one totally forgot the existence of Miss and Mrs. Years later, I volunteer to bring homemade blue- and pink-frosted cupcakes (“Blue for boys, pink for girls, Mama,” my daughter painstakingly instructs me; so much for her parents’ gender-neutral parenting) to school, where Ms. never exists (or so it seems). I cherish motherhood. Nonetheless, I crave my own professional identity, refusing to define myself through my children.

Some of the lawyers-turned-homemakers I have met appear to be perfectly content with their new role. More, however, seem to remain somewhat ambivalent about their choice. Ours is a profession requiring an all-or-nothing commitment. In the name of climbing the career ladder, one finds herself forced to toil mindlessly, often to the exclusion of family. The challenges of conquering the juggling act have kept many “women lawyers” away from the career world.

Not too long ago, I held a dream job for a mommy-track lawyer: telecommuting to a Silicon Valley law firm. This job allowed me to participate, albeit indirectly, in cross-border patent litigation, all the while working from the kitchen table. I also carried my laptop in the car. Between my children’s drop-off and pick-up times at their schools, I worked here and there, ultimately becoming an expert on “Free Wi-Fi” locations.

Thankfully, technology had made it possible for us — a team of about 20 lawyers scattered across the nation — to communicate and collaborate effortlessly and effectively. Curling up on my living room sofa with the laptop, I interacted with colleagues from Denver, San Diego and New Orleans. Admittedly, I sometimes felt estranged from the mainstream legal community, especially when working in my pajamas. But after all, I was the one who had sought out a family-friendly alternative. Genuinely grateful for my mobile office, I tried my best to produce high-quality work as a way of expressing my appreciation. I felt a keen sense of loss when this contract work predictably came to an end.

Michelle Bomberger and Mason Boswell, both solo practitioners as well as parents, have endeavored to create a home-based career. Bomberger operates Small Business Legal Services, a law firm focused on serving entrepreneurs and small-business owners. The mother of two preschoolers, Bomberger constantly felt “pulled in different directions.” Finally, she has learned to “prioritize, delegate and set boundaries.”

She has freed herself from mundane, non-legal tasks by hiring support staff, and works at home two days a week. She also worked with a financial coach, who helped determine what the growth model for the business was. “Understanding what needed to happen to balance my life and make the money I needed to make from the business really helped pull things together,” she says.

Harmonizing work and family remains a universal struggle. Men are not mere onlookers. Becoming a first-time parent during his third year at a large firm, Boswell and several colleagues fought to implement a paternity policy. “I wanted to build a firm,” explains Boswell, “where having a family was considered natural and encouraged.” He eventually founded Boswell IP Law, specializing in protecting ideas in the software, electrical/electronic/computer, and game industries.

Boswell also works from home. “I may get up and work four hours, go to the park with my daughter for a couple of hours, then come back and work several hours more,” he says. “If something is due to be filed that day, I may have dinner with my family and then pop back into the office to work another hour or two before going to bed.” Boswell calls this working style “quite liberating.”

Undoubtedly, successful solo practices helped Bomberger and Boswell keep building their careers in the quiet and comfort of their home offices. However, the benefits of telecommuting should be available to lawyers outside solo practice as well.

Work-at-home has remained an eagerly awaited opportunity, especially among parents with young children. But a wide variety of individuals would benefit from a mobile and flexible workforce. Consider many other non-traditional professionals, potentially talented and dedicated, but underused, such as the physically disabled and those caring for elderly parents. Transcending geographical barriers enables the employer to recruit from a broader talent pool.

There are other benefits to the employer that reaches out to a more diverse workforce — from reductions in office overhead to enhanced productivity deriving from personal satisfaction and rejuvenation. From a global perspective, the positive impacts of telecommuting on the environment can be profound. Research confirms that minimizing the daily commute would reduce air pollution and energy use.

Remote work isn’t a panacea, however. Despite advances in communication technology, some jobs do require face-to-face interaction. I speak from my own experience. Once I worked on a project for a Washington, D.C. firm. Looking back, I ask myself if certain aspects of the job could have been vastly improved if personal contact had replaced the email traffic.

As critics point out, other disadvantages of telecommuting include lack of social interaction, limited managerial control over confidential information, and issues and barriers pertinent to labor and employment laws. Nevertheless, I believe that overall benefits to the employee, employer and environment outweigh the costs. Telecommuting, even on a part-time or “as needed” basis, would merit serious consideration.

Our national landscape makes an integrated workforce inevitable. More and more employers are proclaiming diversity as a vital issue for their work environments. However, diversity should mean far more than a photo of a racially mixed group of sharp-suited individuals smiling harmoniously in a firm brochure. It should be practiced on a day-to-day basis.

Telecommuting, flex-time, shortened hours, paternity leave, job sharing — these can be powerful tools to help create a more integrated, more dynamic, more global workplace.

Daniel performed I Saw Three Ships, our beloved English carol , at a Christmas Eve service.  (He learned the piece entirely on his own, partly by studying this video clip.)   Congratulations on the job well done, Daniel.

….. you catch your breath, you look around…and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills…Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts..

The preceding is a passage from Welcome to Holland, one of my favorite poems, written by a mother sharing the experience of raising a child with a disability.   Her message teaches all of us a profound lesson, regardless of whether we raise a disabled child ourselves.  It tells us to take a deep breath, open our eyes wide, look around, and take it all in  —– reminding us that we can create a special story right where we are. 

Here’s the whole poem:

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WELCOME TO HOLLAND    by Emily Pearl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this…

When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome To Holland”.

“Holland?!?” you say, “What do you mean “Holland”??? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy”

But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.

So you must go and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills… Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy…and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned”.

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away…because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.

But…if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things…about Holland.

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Let the celebration begin, here and now.  

Happy Thanksgiving.

It is Thanksgiving.

I am incredibly excited, but first I would like to tell you some things I am thankful for.

I am thankful for my family because they do many things with me.

I also like them because they help me with all kinds of things. 

I was very thankful for my pets because I had all kinds of fun with them. 

I am also thankful for food, because about one billion people don’t have food.

So I am very lucky.

Happy Thanksgiving!