Detroit – Page 5 – Apron Strings for Emily

21 May 200921 October 2010

Letting Go …

This past Sunday morning at our Michigan home was a rough one.

I should preface this by saying that the raggedness of that morning had absolutely nothing to do with the baptism we attended later on that day. Because I was actually looking forward to spending time with these good friends; a couple that experienced the roller coaster of infertility first hand. I was looking forward to meeting their daughter for the first time.

Nor did it have to do with spending time with those other family friends’ kids who are waaay too adorable. Because, believe me … seeing how these kids grew so much over the past six months was just plain fun. (Personally, the story about our friend’s two year old son placing a Vic.toria’s Secret bag on his head and walking around calling himself Opti.mus Pri.me was my absolute favorite!)

Nope, what made the morning rough was what I stumbled upon while cleaning off the top of our dresser.

And the thing is … I should have known better because it was in the same exact place I left it when I last stumbled upon this item.

Hubby happened to be there this time when I found the picture of our two would-be babies. And he noticed the subtle flinch I made as I picked it up and set it aside … this time to pack it away so that it would be “filed” somewhere safe, so as not to be lost while in the midst of our “final” move to Chicago.

And when Hubby asked me if I was okay, I told him the truth. I was okay for the moment, but I was sure that it would affect me at a later date. It could be tonite … or it could be next week.

As it turned out, I would have to face my feelings about my failed IVF at that very moment. Because that was the moment that Hubby stood next to me, picked up the snapshot and said, “I’m going to throw it away.”

“No,” I immediately responded. “Don’t.” And when Hubby asked me why, I responded “Because that’s the only picture I have of them.”

Them, meaning my babies. My one instance at biological motherhood I would ever experience. The one time I could ever say that I had babies inside of me. So what if my babies didn’t “stick”? So what if I never got my second pink line? Or an HCG level that would ever equate to a positive pregnancy test? That picture was everything that could have been. That picture harvested all those unfulfilled possibilities.

And even though that one and only IVF cycle failed … that picture showed that Hubby & I were able to create something (or rather three * “somethings”… even though we didn’t have a snapshot of our third) from the two of us. It was a testament what lengths Hubby & I traveled in order to have children created from our own flesh and blood.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hubby said in response. “We’ll always know what they mean to us.”

And because I had no smart reply to that, Hubby continued. “It’s time to move on,” he told me. “We need to keep moving forward.”

“D*mn it,” I remember thinking to myself. “He’s right.” But rather than acknowledge it (after all, I am stubborn), I continued cleaning off the dresser.

That is, until Hubby snuck up behind me and put his arms around my waist. “It’s time,” he repeated.

“I know,” I finally said to him as he picked up the picture from where I last placed it on the dresser.

“So I can throw it away?,” Hubby asked.

“Yes,” I said. “But do it quickly before I change my mind.” And then as he took the picture and walked towards the trash can, I turned the other way.

“I can’t watch,” I told Hubby.

I listened to Hubby slowly walk away from me and pause by the bedroom door. Where the trash can was. And after a quick rustle of paper, the picture was gone.

*****

I blocked that moment out of my mind for the rest of the day; busy with two parties, the one baptism I mentioned above and the other a birthday party for my aunt. Both at buffet restaurants, may I add. (Still. So. Stuffed.) Then it was the long drive back to Chicago so I could work in the morning.

It wasn’t until Hubby & I dropped my cousin off (who bummed a ride with us to attend our Aunt’s party) that Hubby and I talked about our “babies” again. And how hard it still was for me to let them “go.”

That’s when Hubby turned to me and told me that it was hard for him too. Hard for him to throw away the picture. Harder for him to let go than he thought.

And as sad as that moment was for me, there was that little sliver of hope … that small glimmer of light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. Because even though our car was packed with stuff we were moving from our old house to our new “home” in Chicago … the weight in my heart felt just a smidge lighter.

I guess this means I’m actually letting go.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

* Our third “something” was a lone blastocyte that was frozen. Hubby and I had hoped that more blastocytes would have survived the initial IVF procedure so that we would have the ability to try a “frozen cycle.”

30 March 2009

Br.ide Of Fra.nkens.tein Removed

Quick post, as I’m surrounded by unorganized mess mixed with packing boxes back in Michigan.

Hubby officially “moves” to Chicago with me today, along with puppy-girl Kozzy. Yay! Home with finally be Home in Chicago. As sad as I am the Detroit is going through such hard economic times, especially with the housing markent, I’m actually quite relieved that this gives us time to do a “slow” move over to Chicago. If only we didn’t have to pay a mortgage plus rent, I’d be even more of a happy camper.

This weekend should have been spent doing more packing and taxes (yeah, we’re procrastinators), however most of it was spent with family and friends. Saturday, we met with my parents for an early dinner (at Pizzapapalis, of all places! Hands down, the best deep dish pizza … next to the “original” Pizzeria Uno in Chicago … by the way). It was good to spend time with my parents … especially my Mom, before she flies out to the Philippines this morning. (More on Grandma later … )

For “second dinner” (a la “Hobbit”-style), we met with our good friend, J at our favorite burger joint. It’s been a ritual for us to meet there even when I was still in the D. I miss the excellent burgers … but I miss my friend, J more. I’m worried a bit about him … I think this move to Chicago for us is hitting him harder than both Hubby & I thought. But we’ve assured him (and ourselves, too) that we’d be back often enough to continue our late night ritual. If only we can find a burger just as good as Redcoat in Chicago. But more importantly, if only I could convince him to move to Chicago to be closer to us …

Last night we spent a quick couple of hours out to dinner with Hubby’s family. Again, nice to catch up with everyone. Great to talk to my SIL about how “wonderful” her psych rotation in Nursing school is going. (Ah … the memories!) And completely awesome to see my nephew again and to hold my beautiful niece once more. I do miss them. Tons

Oh, and as of yesterday afternoon … I am officially no longer the “Br.ide Of Fra.nkens.tein.” I no longer have the grey/silver streaks of hair at either side of my temples. That’s because finally … after six long months … I got my hair cut and dyed! Woo-hoo! And there’s another person I miss tremendously, too … my awesome hairstylist! She is that good … that I’d come back in to town just to have my hair done just by her.

And finally … a quick update on Lola. Grandma is not doing any better … she’s officially gone into a coma and her kidneys are failing. Everyone is thinking that she just might not pull through this time. Of course, she’s been known to fool us all in the past … so I’m not giving up hope for a miracle. But honestly, I think she’s waiting for all her children to come back “home” to be by her side before making her decision.

My Mom finally found the earliest flight out to the Philippines mid-Friday morning. Unfortunately, the normally two-layover / 14-hour flight has now turned into a three-layover / greater than 36-hour flight. It was the best she could do on short notice … and it still didn’t come cheap. The important thing is that she’ll be meeting her sister during one of these layovers and will share the same flight with her into Manila, Philippines. I hate knowing that she’s traveling all alone, especially during this emotionally difficult time.

This same Aunt of mine also has the medical DPA for my Grandma. Which means once she’s there, she will have to make that tough decision as to what to do next. What a huge responsibility for her, and I’m glad that my Mom … the one sibling probably with the most faith and spirituality … will be there with this Aunt. In any case, if you guys can continue to say prayers for my family … I’d very much appreciate it. All of your wonderful thoughts and sentiments have worked wonders thus far … and for that I am incredibly grateful.

Well, so this short post turned out longer than I thought. But thought I’d shoot a “quick” one out before the rest of my day starts. It’ll be a busy one as I attempt to replace my lost MI driver’s license and do a little more shopping (cheaper here with the 6% sales tax, versus the 10+% in IL) before we head out of town again. But at least now this once-Bride of Frankenstein will be united with her Groom.

Again, thanks for all the warm thoughts and prayers for my family. Please please please … keep them coming!

09 March 2009

"Me"-dia

Imagin me wearing stirrup stockings with this dress and kitten heel pumps ... yep, how 80's!

Well, since I finally made it home this weekend I got a chance to find a couple more 80’s pictures … including that one picture of me in a dress that reminded me of this one … the one I wore at the Addy Awards last weekend.

It’s actually quite funny, when you think of it. Because both dresses actually are a mod dress inspired from the 60’s fashion styles. And yet … here I am wearing one dress in the 80’s and another one, some 20 years later again. Amazing how fashion styles recycle.

Anyhoo … Pretty scary that I was only 14 years old in that picture. And I seriously can’t believe my parents let me out of the house in that dress. What’s even more “scandalous” (well, at least in my eyes), is that my Mom was the one that picked this dress out. Because looking back at this picture now … it’s a pretty sexy dress for a 14 year old to wear, don’t you think?

But I remember the occasion at which I wore this dress for, which was a family friend’s 18th Birthday/Cotillion. It was during the summer before starting high school and I remember feeling quite self-conscious in the outfit. Which is probably why I can recall how socially “awkward” I felt that night.

And I realized this past weekend how some things never change. Hubby & I had some time to spare before heading over to my in-law’s house to celebrate my nephew’s 13th birthday. So we headed to the local mall just to walk about. (It was such crappy weather all weekend long, that doing anything outside was useless …)

Anyway, as we were there I headed into the local Sep.hora to look at some body lotion that a co-worker recommended to moisturize skin, but not leave it all moist and clammy especially when in the midst of a hot flash*. Now, I’ve never been inside a Sep.hora before; the reason behind it pretty obvious to anyone who knows me. I’m just simply not into make-up and dressing up.

I mean, I’ll dress up … when the occasion calls for it, I clean up quite nicely … but on an everyday basis? I’m the type of gal that’s more comfortable in a pair of jeans and a tshirt. And coming from a company where we could wear jeans daily to a company that requires leadership to dress business casual every day … well, that’s been a challenge.

So getting back to Sep.hora, I figured that while I was there I’d get some lip gloss to moisturize my lips … and maybe add a little color to it. Except I couldn’t believe how many choices were out there and I simply became overwhelmed. I mean seriously … all I wanted was a “leeetle” plum-rose color to my lips and what I saw was 50 zillion different varieties of plum or raspberry. I ended up just walking out of there with nothing.

But going back to the “some things never change” bit … I’m just not a “girly” girl and I never had been. I was the girl that climbed trees and ran her bike through muddy trails. I was the same girl who loved walking through puddles at school (seriously … whenever it rained, there would be this huge puddle in the middle of the parking lot that I believe I named “Lake St. Vincent”). I was that pre-teen (or “tweenager,” as they’re now called) that still loved to stay up and watch the movies at slumber parties rather than play dress-up or put on make-up.

For that, I still believe it’s because I never had that consistent female “bond” with another girl … a sister, or a mentor that could coach me through some of those things. And I still believe it’s because I was that first-generation Filipino-American; my parents not quite familiar with what typical American things that pre-teens (or even teenagers) do.

This pic was taken after one of my "modeling" classes I took. I think this is the class they taught me how to put on makeup ... ha!

I give my parents credit though. They did the best that they could do. And they, particularly my mom, did try to encourage me to do things that most teens might do (within reason, of course). One of them was signing me up for modeling classes after I turned 16. Now, I must be honest … this would have been something I would totally wanted to do at the age of 13 or 14. But by 16, my personality was such that doing anything that surrounded using your “looks” to get ahead with anything was something I was SO against. (Helloooo …. New Wave/Goth chick, here!) But I faithfully went; partly out of obligation, as my Mom shelled out a lot of money for these classes. And partly out of sheer curiosity. Because, the girls that were in my class … they were the antithesis of who I was.

And what did I learn from these classes? Posture (which still sucks), poise and grace (which doesn’t work with my two left feet), and that I look best in “Summer Colors” when it comes to clothes and makeup. I think that last thing is the only lasting impression from that class … because I realized recently (after years of simply wearing black and/or white) is that I do like to dress myself in those “Summer Colors.”

Not that it matters too much anymore … but sometimes I wonder how I come across to other people, looking the way that I do. Given that I tend to wear my hair pulled back in a ponytail (or even piggy tails … not. kidding. you.) and I am one for sacrificing fashion for comfort, I think people think that I’m young and immature. (Which I can be … ) But after talking to me for any length of time, these same people tend to realize that I am older and more mature than they originally thought. That I’m smart and intelligent. That I’m knowledgeable in certain areas. But that’s only after they get to know me. And probably after they see how much grey hair I actually have.

In any case, going into that Sep.hora brought me straight back to those days of self-consciousness. And back to such an awkward phase in my life.

But enough of looks and awkwardness and fashion and lack of make-up. Let’s talk about how much fun I had being back home this weekend. We celebrated my nephew’s 13th birthday on Saturday and I still cannot believe he’s officially a teenager now (well, really he’ll be one officially on the 12th …) by having dinner at a local restaurant and then heading over my in-laws afterwards for birthday cake. From the moment he saw us, my nephew didn’t want to leave our side. And as I know those moments are going to start to be few and far in between, I relished every moment of his closeness. I also got to see my niece for the first time since December and I can’t believe how much bigger she’s gotten. She’s now 6 months old and her personality has definitely started to develop. My favorite moment of that night was this following video.

This video was taken while my SIL and I were “video chatting” in iChat on our laptops. We were both in the dining room facing directly across from each other. And when my nephew sat down to chat with me, he took his baby sister with him who, of course, was fascinated by seeing me (and herself) on the computer screen. I wish we started recording it sooner, because the first few times were priceless … but this video is still awesome. She (and my nephew, of course) is such a cutie!!

And Sunday, I was supposed to meet up with a couple of grade school friends for brunch. Unfortunately, since the weather’s been sucking a$$ right now I think we’ve all come down with some sort of sinus thingy; one of my friends worse than myself and my other friend. It would have been great to see them both, as I haven’t seen them since … like, forever … but we’re going to reschedule for the end of this month when I should be back in town to help Hubby move. 🙂

Instead, Sunday was spent going for dim sum with my parents. It was nice to sit and talk with them; and I think I genuinely surprised them by making the time to see them during this weekend home. The truth is, I would have made the time anyway … I just didn’t have a chance to call them until I got into town.

And while at that restaurant, I ran into one of my best friends from Nursing School. He’s now working as a professor for a local University and we’ve recently caught up in Face.book. But nothing beats actually seeing him and hugging him in person. We managed to make plans to catch up next time he comes into my “neck of the woods.” Can’t wait for that.

And now … about 6 hours from now, I’ll be boarding the train back to the City. Another weekend home gone so quickly. This being the second time I’ve been back to Detroit since moving, I realize how much I miss parts of this area. I miss all the shops and the ability to jump in my car and find parking anywhere. I miss how much cheaper going out to eat and/or seeing movies are. I miss seeing Sabrina on a daily basis. But the thing I miss the most? Yep, my family.

But the good thing is … we’re never that far away by email or phone. And not even by physical distance.

Yay family!

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

* Nope, not having hot flashes so much anymore. But when walking the distance I do from the train to my office building every morning … I do tend to work up a sweat. It usually is worse whenever I take a shower in the morning (and therefore putting body lotion on at that time) … Anyway, I’m sure this was more information that y’all needed to know.

17 February 200910 June 2021

Protected: "Registered" … Something or Another

19 January 200911 January 2015

Me? Quiet?!

After reading this post once again (and realizing how inconspicuous it starts out as), I’m finding it rather appropriate that I posted this today, on MLK Jr Day … and on the eve of the Presidential Inauguration of Barack Obama. If anything, I encourage you to read the following with an open mind and with the hopes and dreams that both these two historical men had and currently have.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

Well, the good news is that there’s a “warm front” on the horizon. Of course, “warm” means highs of 20 degrees over the next week. Much better than the sub-zero temperatures. Good thing too, because I was seriously sick of having my scarf stick to my nose from all the frozen snot (yes, I know that sounds disgustingly awful). It’s bad enough that it was so cold that my eyes would water … and that those tears would immediately freeze on my eyelids! One thing that helped warm the weekend was the arrival of Hubby. It’s always a brighter, sunshine-y day (a-la-Brady Bunch) when Hubby’s around. He flew in from Dubuque, IA where he was once again an Addy judge for their local Ad Club.

I met him at the airport and then headed (for what seems like the millionth time) to Ikea to pick up some more household stuff. It seems as if until he’s officially with me, I’ll be needing a second set of whatever we currently have at our house in Detroit. We’re trying our best not to buy anything we don’t need. Except I am finding it rather difficult to be living with just a bed, two chairs, and a table … which, coincidentally is doubling as a TV stand at the moment. Oh well, one more reason to look forward to when Hubby & I are together once again. movie poster Gran Torino

We did make it a point to catch a movie this weekend. And really … we ended up seeing two, but only one was, in my opinion, worth mentioning. If you haven’t had a chance, go see Clint Eastwood in “Gran Torino.” One of the best things about seeing this movie is that it was shot in Detroit and its surrounding areas. During certain parts of the movie, Hubby & I would be pointing out certain locations to each other, thinking we’d know where it was filmed. One particular scene, however, (the barber shot scene) we knew was actually shot in the city I live (lived?) in. That was pretty cool to see.

It was a big deal in the news last summer that Clint was filming in our area. Big Oscar-award winning director/actor setting up office in the area, renting a house in our suburbs … well, it was just plain cool. There would be sightings of him in the local mall, grocery store, etc … and stories of him being exactly as kind and unassuming as the media always portrays him. That was cool to hear. gran-torino-eastwood-barbershop

And the big thing was that Clint seriously immersed himself into the role he played. Not only was he the lead actor of the film, but he directed it as well. And if you know anything about the movie, Clint and his team submerged themselves into the Hmong community.

Despite what most people think, Hmong is not (and never was) a nation or a type of “nationality.” The Hmong people are a collection of 18 different mountain tribes that have lived in China and other southeast Asian countries (such as Laos, Thailand and Vietnam). Many of them migrated to the U.S.* following the Korean and Vietnam War as refugees with the assistance of a few Christian missionary groups. Other families came after assisting the U.S. during these wars. In any case, many might consider the Hmong a “nation-less” culture; much like one can’t pinpoint exactly which part of Latin or South America an Aztec or Mayan person may have come from.

The reason I bring up this bit of history in my post was to further delve into “Gran Torino.” Clint Eastwood’s character, Walter is … for lack of better terms, what Hubby and I would call a “Crappy Pappy.” Meaning, he’s an older man past the prime of his life, who would spend the rest of his days as a crotchety, cantankerous old man. Walter’s the mean old man next door who would yell at you for stepping on his lawn, would say something rude just to get a rise out of a person … would yell out “Slow down, kid!“ to any teenager who drives just a little too fast past his house.

Walter is also the type of man who had no qualms about shouting out plain old racial slurs to any person who was different than him. Whether it was the young 27-year old Catholic priest, the white “Vanilla Ice”-type teenager, or the Hmong people who slowly have taken over the neighborhood where he lives … he always found something crude and rude to say about them.

"Stay off my lawn, Punk!" — “Stay off my lawn, Punk!”

In the beginning, the first-generation Asian-American gal in me found it pretty darn funny. The comments Walter would make under his breath were every stereotypical racial slur you would expect; some more crude than others. He’s a guy, as my good friend Kara would say, with a bad case of “verbal diarrhea.”

There came a point, however, when I found myself getting more and more annoyed. Not so much with what Walter may have said or done, but more about how the crowd around us reacted to those racial statements. As strange as it may sound, I started to feel rather … uncomfortable (for lack of better words) with my surroundings.

It’s not that I was mad or upset about the dialogue in this movie, because after all, Walter is supposed to be that type of character; one with no inhibitions about saying such racial slurs aloud. What, I guess upset me more, is that the primarily non-Asian crowd kept laughing and laughing and laughing about each inappropriate comment made. (I mean seriously people, how many times can one laugh about the multiple suggestions / innuendos that all Asians eat dog?!) It came to a point where it felt as if the comments Walter made were every single thing that many of the other movie-goers wished they could say out loud on a daily basis … without, of course, sounding unbelievably politically incorrect.

Maybe I’m making too much of a big deal about this. Or maybe I’m not.

I just know, from my experiences as an Asian-American, that most of our backgrounds are such that we (collectively as Asians of any descent) are known as a “quiet culture.” A culture that isn’t known to raise a “stink” about social injustices against our “people.” A culture that, quite frankly, is known to just “suck it up” when it comes to having things said or done against us.** And if you see “Gran Torino,” you will be able to see that part of Asian mentality … especially during the first half of the movie in scenes with Thao (or “Toad,” as Walter calls him), the male Asian lead character.

Gran Torino I, myself, find a bit of my personality in Thao’s sister, Sue — “Americanized” enough to know how to stick up for myself, but still feeling a bit of an outsider amongst the rest of the world. (I’m nowhere near as “straightforward as this chick … but I can so relate to her experiences!)

In any case, it’s your opinion, as a reader to decide whether I’m making this issue to be more than it should be. What I do know for a fact is that “Gran Torino” is just a movie. And a well-written one at that. Because what happens in this movie … what happens with Clint Eastwood’s “Walter” during the course of the movie is, without a doubt, phenomenal.

And really, who better to direct this movie … to star in this movie as Walter … and bring up such sensitive issues than Clint Eastwood? Personally, I think he should be, at the very least nominated for Best Actor during this year’s Oscar race.

Go see the movie (if you haven’t already). And tell me your thoughts.

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

* The Detroit area, particularly the city of Warren, has one of the largest Hmong communities in the nation. Another one of the reasons why it was so cool that Eastwood filmed “Gran Torino” in the area.

** As I re-read this post, I realized that there has been an even more recent incident involving Asian-Americans in the Detroit area. Most Asians are very familiar with the Vincent Chin story, as this sparked the first instance of solidarity among Asian groups against hate crimes. However, not many Asians were aware of another incident that happened about 2.5 years ago to Chonburi Xiong (who, coincidently was Hmong).

Please … I encourage every one of my readers to click on the links of these names above (or even these ones) and read the stories. It is only by *knowing* that such instances exist that we can be aware of how our every day words and actions can affect others all around us.