JulieLeung.com: a life told in tidepools

I read Electrolicious, Ariel Meadow Stallings’ blog, for a number of reasons. She’s an excellent writer, funny, creative and fresh. She’s a Seattle blogger. She’s also a friend of my brother. And, I confess, I read Ariel’s blog because she occasionally shares what it was like to grow up on Bainbridge Island and how her youth here shaped and impacted her. In Race Card she wrote:

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about race. As a Northwest-born white middle-class American, the issue is all tangled up in political correctness, liberal guilt, and the fact that my hometown (Bainbridge Island) is notorious for being almost completely homogeneous.

According to this link the U.S. 2000 Census found that Bainbridge Island was 93% white. (2% were Asian and 3% more than one race, the rest were less than 1%). It is probably the least diverse place we have lived, from a statistics perspective. 93% is nearly homogeneity defined. It is far from ideal, perhaps dangerous. But what can be done to change it? The statistics, I suspect, reflect the economics, and also the fact that communities tend to reinforce themselves, attracting more of their own kind rather than diversity and variety.

I’m grateful we live close to Seattle and other cities with more diversity and cultural opportunities. At the same time, I am aware that I am more sensitive in a sense to this issue than my husband who has spent his life from childhood in the statistical minority. He grew up on the East Coast in an area that was probably also highly homogeneous.

Mama Junk Yard described what it means to be Kenyan. Her ideas of cultural identity encouraged me.

Having spent so long in England I have become accustomed to racism. I don’t mean this in a general “all whites hate us black folk” way. I am talking about real racism…

[snip].

What is important, to me at least, is the fact that my parents were strong enough to raise me into the person I am. I know their strength stems from the fact they knew where they were from. They were and still are rooted in their Kenyan identity. By default this identity was passed on to me.

[snip]

My point is simple. I have given up on clinging on those outward signifiers that are supposed to symbolise my Kenyaness. I have decided to be honest with myself…

[snip]

I shall no longer be silenced because I am not Kenyan enough. Phrases such as “Wow you are more Kenyan than I thought” shall cease to be considered a compliment.

If the rest of Kenya can base their Kenyaness on a gut feeling, than that too shall be my basis.

I am what I am because I have chosen to be what I am.

I apologize for the burst of blogposts tonight. I’m in a writing mode, and this week I’ve been finally able to finish ideas that have been simmering inside me for a while. My plan for the next few days is to focus on Gnomedex. So please ration accordingly: I am not planning to write many more posts until Monday. Thanks for your understanding…

Pictures taken at Woodland Park Zoo.

Related links:

nostalgia: a bittersweet longing for things, persons or situations of the past. [American Heritage]

Elizabeth Grigg described her experience at the U2 concert we attended last month [ my post].

Now, rather than feeling pity for those who rally around these nostalgic bands like there was nothing new under the sun since college, I feel empathy. Was your experience as strong as mine? Was your experience as personal? This connects me to others who look back on their lives through these triggers, and is another dimension to nostalgia’s power. In other words, I’m all for it.

[snip]

The reason why we spend $100 a ticket and more for a dinosaur concert like U2 is few other bands can use music to replay our personal history in one concert. It’s an intensely personal experience, and yes, perhaps the music does not always merit the reaction, but it’s as close to “this is your life” as it gets.

Reading her perspective, I realized why I reacted the way I did [my experience felt a little more like this review from a recent Chicago show, found via U2 Sermons]]. U2 doesn’t own the soundtrack to my life. When I listen to U2, I don’t travel back in time. Pride (In the Name of Love) reminds me of middle school bus rides, not one of my favorite moments. The Joshua Tree songs speak to me of high school, unrequited infatuation and the gratitude I now have that no one pursued me romantically before college and Ted. No nostalgia courses through my body with the beat of the bass.

No one band owns the music that makes my memories. Instead I’ve got a mix of MTV, spliced together pop clips, a variety of top 40 tracks taken across a decade, whatever the radio played while life was happening. Fleetwood Mac and Bee Gees tell me of the time my father moved away. Listening to Journey brings to mind the end of elementary school and memories of my friend A—- wondering how far she should go with T. Prince had his rebellious tones, and it was his movie my friend and I plotted to see, soon as we turned 17. Play Springsteen and I see myself in the new room I had to myself, listening to his album, lying in bed and imagining the next mile time I wanted to run. Bruce’s music is itself filled with lots of nostalgia, the Born in the U.S.A. album crying back to previous generations, of Vietnam and glory days long gone, songs that were too old for me at the time, and I knew it then although I assimilated and attached my own adolescent sorrows onto it.

Part of the problem may be that I couldn’t afford much music. In high school I bought a handful of tapes. My money needed to go elsewhere and albums seemed such luxury compared to clothes, food and school needs. It hasn’t been a priority for me.

Part of it is that I may not be wired for auditory as much as other sensory memories. My ears bother me at times and I know my hearing is not as sharp as it could be. I grew up in a symphony of cacophony, as one of four siblings . Now I often choose quiet over music. I’d rather write in the silence then spoil it with sound.

What brings back memories for me? Perhaps not music, but I can certainly feel some nostalgia for toys. From BlogHer participant Roxanne, I discovered michelle at ASV’s list of best toys from childhood. Fisher Price are my favorites. I already posted pictures of my Fisher-Price record player. At a friend’s home -older friends who saved the toys their kids enjoyed for their grandchildren to use – I spied Fisher Price house and horse, identical to the ones I remember.

Animals mean the most to me. I still keep a stack of stuffed animals in my bedroom. At first I felt they looked childish, stashed in the corner, a pile of Cat in the Hat, a koala, monkey, frog and polar bear. But each of these toys represents a part of my past. The Cat in the Hat was my birthday present from the hospital gift store while my brother was recovering from his brain tumor surgery. When I learned to tell time, my mom bought me the koala, from a woman who had held real koalas. The monkey Hosanna hung out with me in college. Bean bag frog was my first stuffed animal, at age two.

Even when I have happy memories from the past, I am happiest now. I can’t be nostalgic because I don’t want to go back in time. I have my moments of exhaustion, frustration, questions or doubt, as a homeschooling mom of three, but I also know that I am happier now than I’ve ever been. Some things are uncertain but I also feel clarity and peace. Sure, I’d like to be in better shape physically but that doesn’t mean I want to go back to high school. Sixth grade and middle school I’d escape compared to now. Even the early years of our marriage, or the early years of this blog (ha!) aren’t places I want to go, except perhaps for a quick whiff of the excitement of young love and newborn babies. I feel incredibly loved and blessed by people in my life. I’m surrounded by beauty. I’m content and confident, without the clutter I once had inside me. No time machine tempts me. I can’t be nostalgic. I am happy here and now.

Through clicking here and then here I arrived here to read one woman’s confessions of her life as an Amy Grant fan.

Amy Grant symbolized youth, for me.
And sometimes I desperately miss being a dumb kid.

I don’t miss being a dumb kid. Sure, I can tell you the songs that played on the radio after Ted asked me to marry him. I like those tunes (Bryan Adams, Amy Grant) and a certain feeling comes over me even as I think about them. There are probably a few songs from my younger days, such as an old Steve Winwood album, that give me cheery thoughts.

But I’m much happier having kids than being one. And as I have kids I can be a kid again too. Life now is sweet and almost too-good-to-be-true, a Cinderella story but better than a storybook, in fact because it’s fact not fantasy. I hope I can help my own children be nostalgic for the happiness they have but I hope they will always be growing in the contentment and joy Love gives.

Progressive marathon

While planning my trip to BlogHer, I considered running the 5K and participating in the progressive marathon in San Francisco on July 31. What is a progressive marathon?

Progressive Marathon participants run or walk 26.2 miles over a period of weeks or months, finishing their final 3.1 miles on Race Day in either the 5k Run or the 5k Walk. Participants keep track of their miles on an Interval Sheet that will be available soon. Finishers receive a Marathon finisher’s medal.

Not a bad deal. I could run or walk 23.1 miles before July 30 and then finish it on the 31st in San Francisco. I’d even receive a Marathon finisher’s medal – the same as if I’d ran the whole 26.2?! But it looks like I may have to fly home early Sunday morning in order to make the necessary connections in time for Ted’s OSCON travels. It makes sense, one could say, that San Francisco would have a progressive marathon. The Seattle Marathon has a Kid’s Marathon that is similiar but no such benefit for adults.

Local Options

Guess I’ll have to find a local race to run instead. The other day I happened to see a paper sheet with a schedule of 2005 Kitsap County Runs. Four runs each year are on Bainbridge. I’ve missed April 16 Toe Jam Hill Half-marathon and 10K. I could run the Grand Old 4th 5K again, as I did last year. September 10th is the day for the Blackberry Trail Run 5K and 10K races. The Winter Solstice 5K happens on December 17. For more run info look on the schedule: although I can not easily find web sites for these runs, there are phone numbers and contact information listed on the .pdf calendar.

Why run?

Why push my body through a 5K? Scheherazade believes it is one of the keys to happiness. From How To Be Happy Part 4: Train For Something

Training for something is adopting the philosophy that you can make yourself better at something by working at it whether it’s fun in the moment or not. It makes you interested in and more careful with your body. It makes you stronger and more confident.

Although I can find many ways to spend my morning time alone before the kids wake up, if I exercise, I feel more like myself. It may seem illogical, but exherting myself gives me energy as well as confidence and enthusiasm to start the day. It’s a physical but also emotional and spiritual boost. Sometimes I long for the days when I had more resources for training. However I can do what I can now and hold my goals flexible since my family comes first. When I have a goal and complete it, whether it is crossing the finish line downtown or making it to the next neighbor’s driveway, I feel strong and yes, even happy.

Practical details

Lisa Williams linked to The Couch to 5K Running Plan, a training schedule that encouraged me. What I noticed the most was the fact that it only requires 3 workouts a week for 9 weeks. 1.5 hours a week instead of the 7 I think I need. Sometimes I feel guilty for missing a day or two or three…but 3 workouts is easier to fit into 7 days. I’m not starting at the baseline but I’m also not sure what kind of shape I will be in on July 4th when our island 5K is.

Time to go train…!

[oops – wrote this morning but didn’t post until later!]