The LYTP Book Tour!

I’m supposed to be getting the oil changed in my car, grading tests, making my kids do their homework, cleaning the toilets, or one of a million other things, but here I am at my computer, obsessively checking email, etc.  We’re leaving for the States in just a few days, during which I have five book-related events lined up.  The first will be on Saturday, August 9, at 1PM at Book Passage in Corte Madera, California. I’ll be appearing with Caroline Grant, who will talk about her book, Mama Phd., and Catherine Brady, whose story “Lives of the Saints” appears in Love You to Pieces, and maybe another Literary Mama as well.  I’m going to leave my kids with my parents.  They will still be jet-lagged.  I’m worried about them keeping my parents up all night, so for the first time ever, I am contemplating drugging them with Benadryl.  And I’m thinking I’d better get some drugs for myself as well – at least some melatonin.

On the afternoon of August 16, I’ll be at The Open Book in Greenville, South Carolina.  My sweet sister-in-law has volunteered to handle refreshments.  She asked me yesterday what color paper products would be good, so I suggested pink, like the book cover.

Next up, is me at The Happy Bookseller in Columbia, South Carolina, at 7PM on August 19. 

Then, I’ll be appearing at  Blue Bicycle Books in Charleston, South Carolina, at 1PM on August 23 along with Amy Hudock, founder and editor-in-chief of Literary Mama; columnist and assistant editor Stephanie Hunt; columnist and blog editor Amy Mercer; assistant fiction editor Melinda Copp; and creative non-fiction editor Sonya Huber.  Sonya will be selling copies of her new book, Opa Nobody.  Amy will be signing and selling Literary Mama: Reading for the Maternally Inclined (which includes stories by Sonya and me).

Finally, Labor Day weekend I’ll be appearing on two panels at the Decatur Book Festival.  On Saturday afternoon, Christine Thompson and I will talk about “Marrying the Other Side of the World” and on Sunday afternoon, Mary Jane Clark and I will address “Writing My Special Child.”

Hope to see some of you on the road!

Evan David Kamida 2000-2008

Yesterday I was deeply saddened to learn of the sudden death of Vicki Forman’s son Evan Kamida.  Like many others, I got to know Evan through his mother’s essays – first on sites like Philosophical Mother and Literary Mama (which has set up a memorial fund in honor of Evan) and later through Vicki’s blog and column.  Her essay, “Coming to Samsara,” about Evan’s premature birth is the opening selection in Love You to Pieces and still moves me after many readings.

Although the lives of individuals with special needs often go unsung, and these people tend to hover on  the margins,  Vicki made sure that didn’t happen with Evan.  When pubishers shied away from her writings about mothering a multiply disabled boy, Vicki persisted in getting herself  – and her son – heard.  In doing so, she has shown us the beauty and value of Evan’s life. 

I am grateful to have Vicki as a friend, and I am grateful for the gains she has made on behalf of mothers of disabled children and the children themselves.  My thoughts are prayers are with Vicki and her family.

The Tough Questions

My husband and I watch a couple movies a week together – mostly those that he picks out.  This week we watched Michael Moore’s “Sicko”, which helped Yoshi to feel superior about Japan’s health care system, and “Home of the Brave,” which helped Yoshi to feel superior about “peaceful Japan.” 

To make things clear, I am all in favor in Universal Health Care in the United States and I am against the war in Iraq.  But I think it’s good and right that Americans feel free to address what’s wrong with the country in film, literature and other art forms.  I don’t think that happens so much in Japan.

At my daughter’s school festival last year, there was a play about Hiroshima.  During the play, the characters were innocently going about their lives when, suddenly, for seemingly no reason, a bomb drops out of the sky and ruins everyone’s lives.  I believe – for the record – that the dropping of the atomic bomb was unnecessary and gratuitous and tragic.  But I dislike the Japanese tendency to whitewash the past and paint themselves as completely innocent.

This evening, my son saw a preview on TV of a movie about World War II which takes place in Korea.  In the movie, Japanese soldiers were doing bad things to Korean people.  Of course my son was curious, so we got into a conversation about WWII, in which I mentioned the Japanese Occupation, Pearl Harbor and the atomic bomb.  I don’t want him to be ashamed of being Japanese OR American, but I don’t want him to grow up thinking that Japan (or America, for that matter) was entirely innocent.  I always tell him that the U.S. and Japan are friends now, and that my love for his father is sort of a manifestation of that. 

But I wonder how other Japanese/American couples talk about Hiroshima with their children.

Beyond Dora

Lately, Lilia has been unwinding after school by watching a Mexican soap opera.  I didn’t even know that we had access to Mexican soap operas until Lilia tuned in.  And I’m not altogether sure that it’s Mexican.  Today there was a scene at the airport in Miami.  Everyone speaks Spanish, and I’ve heard of Mexican soap operas, so I just assume that’s what it is.  Anyhow, I think Lilia likes it because the action on screen is so melodramatic.  She doesn’t understand the conversations, and neither do I, but she can get the gist from the crying and kissing and grand gestures.

Introducing Love You to Pieces

Although I’m pretty happy with the way my intro to Love You to Pieces turned out, I wasn’t originally planning on writing the introduction myself.  My goal was to find someone noteworthy in the fields of literature and disability to introduce the other works.

The problem was, I didn’t yet have a publisher when I finished gathering the pieces, and I wasn’t sure how much I would be able to afford to pay.  Also, I couldn’t guarantee that I would ever find a publisher.  Nevertheless, I had a prospective publisher at that point, a small independent press that had published several quirky anthologies (and that ultimately declined my collection), and I felt confident that the book would be published one day.

I wrote to Nick Hornby.  He doesn’t write much about being the father of an autistic child, but I thought I’d give it a try.  He wrote me a very nice letter saying that he wouldn’t be able to write an intro, but that he wished me all the best with the project.  Then, at the suggestion of one of my well-connected contributors, I wrote to Rachel Simon, author of the best-selling Riding the Bus with My Sister, which I’d heard of, but hadn’t yet read.  Rachel was busy with the movie version of her book (which featured Andie McDowell, formerly of South Carolina, my adopted home state), but she replied that she might be able to do it after filming was complete.  In the meantime, I read her memoir.  One of the themes of the book is saying no, and finding time to do what is most important.  I then felt rather guilty about trying to get Rachel to say yes to writing the intro when she hardly had time to live her life. 

In the end, I bit the bullet and wrote my own intro.  I felt underqualified and not famous, but  I put my heart into it.  It took a while to come up with the courage to write it, and that’s one of the reasons why it took such a long time from the compilation of the manuscript to the signing of publication contract.

Ty Pennington and Me

I got myself invited to The Decatur Book Festival on Labor Day Weekend. I’ve never been to a book festival before either as a reader or a writer, so I’m very excited! The author line-up has just been announced, and it’s amazing!  Some writers whose work I’ve already read and enjoyed will be there, including ZZ Packer, Joshilyn Jackson and Lee Smith, and some other writers whose forthcoming books I’d already pre-ordered from Amazon, such as Cristina Thompson (white woman married to a Maori) and Randa Jarrar. There will also be some big league writers and TV stars like Ty Pennington, host of “Extreme Makeover: Home Version” and Kathy Reichs, whose mystery series inspired “Bones.” And, since it’s an election year, there’ll be some political types like John Dean (remember Watergate?) and Ernest “Fritz” Hollings. I’ll be on a health & wellness panel to discuss Love You to Pieces, and an international panel to talk about Losing Kei.

On the Bright Side…

Okay, so I’m starting to get used to Lilia’s gamine look.  People have even been paying her compliments.  When I took her to the therapy center two days ago, the therapists and other staff members exclaimed, “Cute!” and “This hairstyle suits her!”  I couldn’t resist telling everyone that she cut it herself.  Her occupational therapist praised her use of scissors.  After all, she managed to give herself a haircut without stabbing herself. 

Although he still crawls in bed with us at night, my son is showing signs of independence as well.  This morning when I dragged myself out of bed and down the stairs to the coffee maker, I found him fully dressed in his school uniform frying up a pan of bacon!  Fortunately, he didn’t burn the house down, or the bacon, but I think if he’s going to be doing these things without supervision I’d better give him some instruction and set some rules.

Speed Racer

The other day we were all in the car, cruising down the narrow back roads of rural Japan.  The speed limit where we were was 40 km/hour, but Yoshi was going 50 km/hour.  ”Daddy is breaking the law,” my son piped up from the back seat.  I didn’t even know that he knew that phrase in English.

Scissor Happy

On the one hand, Lilia is a girly girl who dreams of having long, flowing princess locks, as she did as a toddler.  On the other, she hates having hair in her eyes, and having too much hair probably makes her feel hot in her un-air-conditioned classroom.  (On a slightly unrelated note, her teacher complained to me that Lilia was always twirling the strands of hair near her temples, instead of concentrating on the teacher’s words, and maybe I should cut it although she’d just had a hair cut.) 

At any rate, Lilia hacked off her hair again. 

We had a little talk last time about how she should ask us to take her to the beauty salon if she wants her hair trimmed.  I thought she understood.  Maybe she forgot.  Or maybe, as her phsyical therapist once suggested, Lilia is a child passionately interested in communicating her point of view, but not so interested in what other people have to say.  Also, she is very proud of what she can do all by herself.  She expected me to be happy when I saw her shorn head and the pile of hair, just as she expects me to be impressed when I find her trying to put a plate of leftover spaghetti in the microwave (although she doesn’t know how to use it!) instead of waiting for me to cook supper.

Her feelings were actually hurt when she saw my crestfallen face.  “I don’t cut my own hair,” I signed to her.  “Papa doesn’t cut his own hair either.”  I made her promise not to ever cut her hair again.  We locked pinkies over this.  And I’m going to hide the scissors.

America-sick

Not too long ago, my son identified almost solely as Japanese.  Once, when I suggested he eat corn on the cob with butter and salt, a la americaine, he refused, saying rather haughtily, “Japanese don’t eat corn like that.”  And when exasperated with the amount of homework I oversee each evening I suggested moving to the States where the load is not quite so heavy, my son became panicky and wild-eyed.

Well, now Jio is going through an American phase.  He says that George Washington is his favorite president, and he’d like to see Miley Cyrus in concert.  He often brings up anecdotes from his last visit to South Carolina, and frequently evokes his slightly older cousin.  He says that he can’t wait to go to America this summer, which I am happy to hear, and that he is even a bit “America-sick” (as opposed to homesick).

I know that for kids like mine, identity is a moving target, but for the moment I’m enjoying his interest in my country’s culture.