tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29776984117122014842024-02-20T21:13:56.944-06:00Tammisuh Talks..."Tammisuh" is my childhood nickname. "Suh" is my maiden name, pronounced "Sue." It's a fun reminder of my past and a time when I used to sit at my desk and write, dreaming about life as an adult.Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-25784709932880632212023-01-01T15:32:00.001-06:002023-07-17T23:32:57.057-05:00Kintsugi and the Arts Center<p><span style="font-size: medium;">There is an ancient Japanese art form called "Kintsugi", which is the process of repairing broken pottery with powdered gold. When a vessel breaks or shatters, it is not considered a waste or irreparable. Instead, Kintsugi treats the breakage and its subsequent golden repair as part of the history of the object, rather than something to disguise. The jagged lines are beautifully unique to each broken vessel, and once mended with the powdered gold, the final piece is stronger than it was before. In fact, the vessel becomes even more valuable due to its imperfections that cannot be replicated. It is not simply "good as new" with Kintsugi; it is "better than new." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">For those who have been following the journey of the performing arts center in Frisco, you may feel that the project has shattered to the ground and come to an end. When I wrote about the performing arts center exactly a year ago, it certainly was a different project than it is today. (You can read that blog <a href="https://tammymeinershagen.blogspot.com/2021/12/confessions-of-drill-bit_31.html">here</a>.)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">However, though it may appear that the project has broken, I firmly believe in the power of Kintsugi to breathe new life. Rather than looking at the past as a waste of time or viewing the project as irreparable, we can choose to pick up the pieces, embrace the flaws, and artfully mend it into something stronger and more valuable than it was before. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7CSGZ0zrdLzXot2wCmvl3w9EocA9jdEMsunJhnI2o7dDVstUomsis5QM_0RCbApwA0THccASyYIEhIsUbe9hD93V7W12KbHWB34pPOi1WxrR9zI-y5BirsU-9Rsw-OrXqSamP1TWNxRyAmMk6f8ie2jnPo7470OF3MBGCrLkrBq13mVskCnckY2j-/s800/Kintsugi2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7CSGZ0zrdLzXot2wCmvl3w9EocA9jdEMsunJhnI2o7dDVstUomsis5QM_0RCbApwA0THccASyYIEhIsUbe9hD93V7W12KbHWB34pPOi1WxrR9zI-y5BirsU-9Rsw-OrXqSamP1TWNxRyAmMk6f8ie2jnPo7470OF3MBGCrLkrBq13mVskCnckY2j-/s320/Kintsugi2.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">How?</span></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I have several ideas, and you probably do too. 2023 will be an opportunity to re-envision this project, sharpen our pencils, and get questions answered. I mean, A LOT of questions answered. Here are just a few I have in order to make a data-driven decision on how to move forward:</span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>WHY: </b>What is our "Why?" Why are we doing this project? What is the reason for its existence in Frisco? What problem are we trying to solve? This should inform everything we do. </span></li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>WHO: </b>Who are the consumers (the audience)? Who are the creators (the performers)? Are they locals only, or can Frisco support regional and national creators? Who are the private partners, and what do they need to get involved? What is the institutional makeup? Who are the proven experts that will help guide us? </span></li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>WHAT:</b> Now that FISD is no longer programming 50% of the calendar year for this project, what does a calendar year look like at the Frisco Performing Arts Center? What art forms can be supported? Is there room for greater advanced technology? Which local, regional, and national groups would be ready to sign on the dotted line to perform if this facility opened tomorrow? A performing arts center with no audience is not a success, so we must have a robust programming calendar. </span></li></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>HOW:</b> What is the business plan? What is the M&O (maintenance and operations) plan? What is the real cost to build? What is the shortfall? How do we build for growth? How do we make it a commercially-viable, sustainable facility that will benefit the citizens of Frisco 30 years from now, not just today? We don't want to make the mistake of a building a facility that is obsolete the day it opens. </span></li></ul><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">These questions just scratch the surface, but in order for this project to be a true success, we must answer them all and more with data, research, and experts. We cannot proceed based on preference, politics, or passion. Instead, I propose we proceed with Kintsugi, learning to embrace flaws, imperfections, and brokenness as part of the process. In the end, we will have a project more beautiful than we ever imagined, and it will be uniquely ours. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJA9-D8rukT8v61ns91oeLLlGhGNbmVwItArGU3UBqnxni-A5Qt29mRGn_PfO0RjjB5F7qG6yLiqRf0XQyttsI_p4Qp9b3LP2hokG_hbAlN1Sc0EuD_zZwOLXlipa-rDOs7D0a5U9lX8As1bqEW23YeB6JKWTohW-lCk9ONghMerpRdc7OmKKj5vGs/s800/Kintsugi1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJA9-D8rukT8v61ns91oeLLlGhGNbmVwItArGU3UBqnxni-A5Qt29mRGn_PfO0RjjB5F7qG6yLiqRf0XQyttsI_p4Qp9b3LP2hokG_hbAlN1Sc0EuD_zZwOLXlipa-rDOs7D0a5U9lX8As1bqEW23YeB6JKWTohW-lCk9ONghMerpRdc7OmKKj5vGs/s320/Kintsugi1.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p><br /></p>Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-12565260785771223192021-12-31T12:33:00.013-06:002023-01-05T23:52:57.805-06:00Reflections from a Drill Bit<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">"So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable." - Christopher Reeve</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-b2d02876-7fff-c22a-7ea3-8f7c832a9ef6"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.656; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The last time I blogged about the performing arts center project in Frisco, it was December 17th, 2014. I was on the Citizen Bond Committee, advocating for $10 million in bonds towards an arts center. Frisco‘s attitude and enthusiasm for the arts was very different at that time. I honestly had no idea what would happen or whether the bond would pass. Was there a majority of people passionate about the arts and wanting to see something in Frisco? Or was this proposition dead on arrival? Thankfully, the citizens voted in favor, and the arts center project was resurrected. (You can read that blog here:</span><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/2977698411712201484/1247693136107204836#" style="color: #ff00fe; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></a><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><u><a href="https://tammymeinershagen.blogspot.com/2014/">The Arts in Frisco: Why the Controversy?</a></u></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.656; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Between 2014 and 2021, the arts center went through a series of unpredictable roller coaster rides, full of ups and downs, wild twists and turns. It was all I could do to hold on when it felt like it would completely derail. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told this project is impossible for Frisco, and how many players came and went. But when I'm hit with a series of "no's", it only fuels me more to create ways to get to "yes," and find those who believe it as well. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.656; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Finally in June 2021, a public-private partnership was formed with the City of Frisco, the Frisco Independent School District, and Craig Hall, the biggest arts champion for Frisco, to build an arts center. It will be at HALL Park, home to the Texas Sculpture Garden and across from the Dallas Cowboys HQ at the Star. This means that at the very entrance of Frisco, there will now be a visual corridor merging world-class sports and world-class arts. Absolutely incredible!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.656; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There’s much to celebrate about this partnership. It shows a strong desire by leadership to support the arts, and it represents a very unique opportunity to do something innovative not just for now, but for the future. It’s what Frisco does best- forge new paths and set the bar for others to follow.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.656; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To that end, the last six months have been about raising awareness and gathering hard data by experts to support the big vision. A dedicated team of arts advocates has left no stone unturned. Now that we've received the results of the</span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bf7hBx8MxuM&t=216s"><span style="color: #ff00fe; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><u>2021 Market Assessment and Feasibility Study,</u></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ff00fe;"> </span>it's clear that this project has the potential to be a leader for the arts, not just in our city, but in the region and perhaps even the entire country. Why replicate what other cities have already done? That’s not the Frisco way. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.656; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My interest in this arts center has always been as a resident, a taxpayer, and at the core, an artist. I’m a musician who has lived in Sports City USA for almost 20 years, and though my kids are almost all out of the nest, nothing would make me happier than to have a home for the arts in our city, a place where I can go (and where our kids can come back) to enjoy music, dance, theatre, and visual art from local to national talent.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.656; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is a story in Frisco being written about the arts, and we’re about to enter into a new chapter. From 2014 - 2021, the arts center was the underdog, a lost foster child shuffled back and forth - but it is no longer. The arts center will now have a permanent home in Frisco. Design for the arts center is slated to begin in 2022, and all interested parties will be able to see what their investment could look like. Though I have no idea what the final home will actually be, the dream has moved from impossible, to improbable, to inevitable, thanks to the will of the people, the leadership, and the many supporters along this journey. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.656; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As Larry Stockstill says, “The opportunity of a lifetime must be seized within the lifetime of the opportunity.“ How will this story of the arts center ultimately end? I can’t wait for us to find out, and I look forward to walking into the building together on opening day. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.656; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.656; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>2022 UPDATE: Read the Frisco Enterprise article on the change in partnerships for the performing arts center <a href="https://starlocalmedia.com/friscoenterprise/heres-how-frisco-isd-is-approaching-plans-for-its-visual-and-performing-arts-center/article_6976f924-1fb7-11ed-ad93-a3ab4641cfe8.html">here.</a></i></b></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-36339102422934089522021-12-04T22:53:00.004-06:002021-12-31T12:41:33.073-06:00Why We Need the Arts During the COVID-19 Crisis (2020)<div><span style="font-size: large;">March 22, 2020 (12:12pm)</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Recently, I attended a fascinating Food in Fashion show packed with hundreds of people eating, drinking, and viewing an incredible runway show of models wearing food-inspired clothing. It was a delicious collaboration of local designers and restaurants, featuring cilantro-fringed dresses, pizza dough corsets, gilded pasta necklaces, tortilla-encrusted bikini tops, and more. One model, wearing a stunning evening gown decorated with sparkling chocolate gems, even took a bite out of her milk chocolate clutch at the end! I left inspired, energized, and fully satisfied after feasting on all forms of creative arts.<br />
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I had no idea we'd enter into an arts famine just a few days later.</span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Like you, I'm reeling from the massive disruption to our daily lives due to the spread of COVID-19. I'm not used to empty grocery shelves, barren streets, working from home, homeschooling, and an encroaching fear of the unknown. The relentless news cycle talks of a situation that is worsening each day. Every industry has been hit hard with this global pandemic, and people's lives and livelihoods are equally threatened. I'm worried about my family, my parents and brothers in Illinois and New York who have gone into full lockdown mode, and I'm stressed about what this means for our future as a country. With people's essentials at stake- food, shelter, clothing, and health, the arts doesn't matter anymore to anyone . . . or does it?<br />
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I would submit that now, more than ever, the arts are essential for each of us.<br />
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In this new era of social distancing, the power of the arts helps us connect with others. We see videos of quarantined Italians on their balconies singing to each other, playing their instruments, and lifting their spirits through familiar melodies. Renown cellist Yo-Yo Ma is posting videos of performances using #songsofcomfort, asking others to join with him in sharing their musical talent to comfort others. The new Facebook group "Quarantined Cabaret" with 15K members and counting allows the diverse arts community to share their performances to inspire others and be inspired. Though all arts venues have closed, the pandemic has created a global audience, uniting the world through the power of the arts.<br />
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Where does that power come from?<br />
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Stephen Sondheim, American composer and lyricist, said, "Life is unpredictable. Art, in itself, is an attempt to bring order out of chaos. That's why people love storytelling; there is a beginning, middle and end." The truth is, a the core of every art form is storytelling.<b> When you engage in the arts, whether through movement, melody, monologue, or medium, you tell your story.</b> Art is a direct channel into our thoughts, a lifeline into our hearts, and it is way for us to share the human experience together, not alone.<br />
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During this time when we are mandated to be "hunkered down" and self-quarantined, the arts are not an unnecessary luxury. They are in fact critical to our survival, our emotional well-being and mental health. Though it has been extraordinarily difficult for the arts community specifically to be the first to shut down in March 2020, I know we will all look back and see that without the arts, whether books, music, puzzles, games, movies, none of us would have survived quarantine. </span></div>Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-29181981176173307332019-08-19T21:02:00.003-05:002019-08-19T21:57:58.063-05:00College Countdown: A Mother's MusingsIn just a few days, our firstborn daughter Ellie will head to her freshman year at Baylor University in Waco, TX, double majoring in Cello Performance and Entrepreneurship. As we busily prepare for her departure from our home, I find myself going through random bursts of sadness, much like when I was actually pregnant with Ellie! My thoughts and feelings are a jumbled mess, I end up in tears doing the most mundane tasks like grocery shopping, and thus as always, I'm back to blogging as a cathartic way to deal with it all.<br />
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There are so many questions running through my mind. Is there a perfect way to say goodbye? Will she know how much she's loved and missed? How do you move from daily conversation to mostly texting and the occasional phone call? (And how did my parents deal with this issue before cell phones?!?!?) When do I cross the line of showing genuine care and concern to being an annoying helicopter mom? Have I done enough to prepare her to face the world? Will she be safe walking around campus? Who will be her new friends?<br />
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I still remember my first day of college at Northwestern University in the fall of 1993. Like Ellie, my parents lived relatively close by and from my perspective, it wasn't going to be a huge transition. I was excited to start this new adventure, and I really couldn't wait to redefine myself after my tumultuous high school years. I had written out my goals for college and was determined to fulfill every one. I went shopping for brand new clothes, purchased some fun things for my room, and was thrilled about the new technology called "email" that would allow me to stay in contact with friends. I met my roommate Keisha for the first time, a Jamaican model from Florida, and was relieved when we hit it off immediately. Once I was all moved in (and the ethernet connection was loudly chirping in confirmation), it was time to say goodbye to my parents. They teared up and I did too, but Keisha and I were headed to a dorm social event later that night so I tried not to let myself get too sad. Later that year, my mom told me how much she cried on the way home from dropping me off that day. I remember thinking, "Why? I was coming back to their church every Sunday to play the piano for service. What was there to miss?" Fast forward 26 years later, and here I am, finally able to empathize with my mom.<br />
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So why is the college countdown a big deal? Isn't she just 2.5 hours away? Honestly, I do feel a little foolish for being so emotional. But it's the reality that a huge chunk of history, 18 years, is coming to an abrupt close. Like the iconic Friends episode when Rachel moves out of Monica's apartment, simply put: "It's the end of an era." The precious little girl who grew up in our nest is leaving as a beautiful, independent woman. Of course I'm proud of the fine young lady she is, but there is no escaping the empty room when we come back home after dropping her off at Baylor. I'm sure I will sit on her bed and be somewhat pleased that the room is clean (finally!), but I know I'll strangely miss the mess, the sign of activity. No more piles of clay and color from her new accessories business. No more accumulating papers from school, or unfinished sketches on notepads. And the equilibrium will be off; dinner reservations out with the family will now be for 4, not 5. We won't hear Ellie's cello practicing anymore, and she won't be sitting at the kitchen table every day telling me about the things on her mind. I won't see all 3 girls chatting in Ellie's car after a midnight Sonic run for "sister time." Ellie will be forging a new life and new routines without us, and though it's only natural and to be expected, it's painful that I am no longer embedded as a daily part of the next chapter.<br />
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As a mother, it's not easy to juggle the extremes of joy and pain, gratitude and grief, laughter and tears, all at once. I'm flooded with memories of Ellie at different ages, from when I was literally the only source of sustenance she had on earth, to the many milestones we've celebrated. Mourning the loss of time is part of the process, and though it does mark the end of an era, it also ushers in a new one. What gives me comfort is that as Ellie has come into young adulthood, she has become a wonderful, sweet, and dear friend. She asks about my day, she wonders how I'm doing, she gets invested in the things I'm working on. We can talk about anything- from current events to politics to personal drama and everything in between. I love that new aspect of our relationship, and I'm hopeful it will only deepen with time. And we've already planned a special mom-daughter date in a few weeks to see John Mayer on tour, so there's something exciting for us to look forward to! (John's album "Room for Squares" came out when Ellie was just born; one of her first words was "Neon", so she's truly been a fan all her life!)<br />
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I will definitely miss having this girl at home with us, but I have to accept that it's no longer where she can stay. She needs to move on and venture out into the world, taking all the experiences of growing up in our household, whether good or bad, and making her own way. She's got to create her own mosaic of a life well lived, and it will be her journey to take. She knows I will always be her biggest fan and a safe place to fall when she needs me. So I'll put on a brave face when I say goodbye to her in a few days, and I hope someday she'll understand why I cried all the way home.<br />
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<br />Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-33353613547829144542019-02-24T01:26:00.002-06:002019-02-24T20:05:38.298-06:00All Roads Lead To. . . Rockford, ILTonight was a difficult night. It was my Uncle John's memorial service, and our entire Suh family gathered from all over the United States to mourn his passing. Many tears were shed as we remembered his life and the impact he had. During the service, my cousin Steven (John's son) shared something that we all know to be true: if Uncle John had not boldly come from South Korea and settled in Rockford, IL, none of us would exist.<br />
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I honestly can't imagine what it would have been like to be in your 20's, heading to a foreign country, starting your own business, forging your way through school while having to learn a new language, and trying to convince your 6 brothers back in South Korea to join you. Yet Uncle John was determined, and as Steven shared, though he sometimes fell asleep on his way to work, he tirelessly pioneered a new path for his entire family. His restaurant, called "Uncle John's", was quickly becoming a huge success in Rockford, IL, well-known for its Swedish pancakes and innovative menu items. (Yes, a Korean restaurant owner making famous Swedish pancakes; Uncle John was always breaking conventions!)<br />
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You can still visit the restaurant in Rockford today!</div>
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My dad came next to the States to help Uncle John in the restaurant business. It was during one of his shifts as the manager that he met my mom, a nurse who had come from South Korea on her own as well. She was living in Chicago at the time, but had come up to visit a friend who had moved to Rockford, and they chose to eat at the best place in town. The rest, as they say, is history.<br />
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My dad in front of Mary's Market, his first job in the States.</div>
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One by one, all the brothers came to join Uncle John in Rockford, IL to help with his wildly successful restaurant business, which had changed its name to "Aunt Mary's" and "Mary's Market." Eventually each brother got married and had children, with many of us cousins staying close to each other for years. Though we all started out in Rockford, IL, most everyone has moved to other parts of the country. We now have many Suh cousins, aunts, and uncles in California, Minnesota, Texas, New York, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Arizona, Colorado, and Indiana. And with the 3rd generation entering college (my daughter Ellie is the oldest in the 3rd generation), we will be even more spread out.<br />
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All the girl cousins</div>
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All the boy cousins</div>
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3rd Generation</div>
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Before the memorial service began, I had to smile when all the Suh brothers, without speaking a word to anyone, automatically sat in the front row together. The aunts filed into the 2nd row, giving their husbands the space they needed, and the group of cousins took up the 3rd row. This is just the natural hierarchy of the Suh family; we define ourselves not only by each family unit, but according to the ranking order of the 7 Suh brothers. (Even the brothers refer to themselves as #1, #2, #3, etc. and the wives do as well.) There is a rare comfort that comes from this Asian tradition, one that we all readily accept and even celebrate.<br />
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As I sat in the pew during the service tonight, surrounded by my cousins and family, I cried not only tears of sorrow but also of joy and gratitude. I am thankful to Uncle John for the sacrifices he made to create a life in the States, and for the beautiful family that has grown from his American dream. There is so much love in this family, and it stemmed from the ability that John gave us to be together in the land of opportunity. Rest in peace, dear Uncle John. We will miss you.<br />
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Suh brothers: (L-R) Uncle Dave, Uncle Glenn, Uncle Tom, and my dad </div>
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All the aunts and uncles</div>
<br />Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-37094312677426732972018-10-20T15:54:00.001-05:002018-10-26T08:20:49.471-05:00Top 5 Takeaways from #FriscoLEX18From October 17-19, a group of 42 Frisco representatives traveled to Scottsdale, AZ for the Chamber of Commerce's inaugural Leadership Exchange trip. The goal was to learn best practices from a city of a similar size that has experienced the growth trajectory Frisco has. It was 3 days of learning, discussing, exchanging, breaking barriers, and frankly, a lot of fun.<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=90&v=9b26STP762Q">Watch Frisco Chamber Promo Video</a><br />
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Represented in the inaugural group are the Mayor and city leaders, university representatives from 4 institutions, Bank of America executives (sponsors), FISD Superintendent and School Board President, media, developers, corporate leaders, technology experts, lawyers, and more. I was asked to attend as the representative of Arts and Culture as Executive Director of <a href="http://friscoarts.org/">Frisco Association for the Arts</a>.<br />
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<b>Here are my Top 5 Takeaways from #FriscoLEX18.</b></div>
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1. <b>Frisco is doing a lot of things right!</b><br />
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We had 2.5 days of a packed agenda, hearing from the Mayor of Scottsdale, the President/CEO of the Scottsdale Chamber of Commerce, Assistant City Manager, traffic engineer, and multiple panels that focused on Innovation, Education, Entrepreneurism, Workforce Development, Business, and more. I have always been impressed with our city's forward-thinking in building a Smart City, and it shows through many of our leading initiatives and unique public-private partnerships in these sectors. The more I heard, the more I appreciated how much our city has already invested in each of these areas by making them priorities.<br />
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2. <b>What is our identity?</b><br />
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One of the things that stood out to me was how both Frisco and Scottsdale leaders spoke about the identity of their respective cities. We referred to Frisco as "The Fastest-growing City in America," the "Best Place to Raise an Athlete," and "The #1 Place to Live" according to Money Magazine.<br />
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Scottsdale leaders across the board said "Arts and Culture are part of our DNA", they are the "13th Happiest City in the US", and that their identity is based on 4 things: "Arts and Culture, Healthcare and Medical, Technology, and Sonoran Desert," according to the Assistant City Manager.<br />
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Can I tell you how refreshing it was to hear that this city of roughly 250,000 proudly states that their core identity is rooted in arts and culture? It is what they are known for and what visitors expect in Scottsdale. The first artist community sprung up in Scottsdale in 1902, and there are now 40 arts galleries in Old Town Scottsdale. In 1985 they passed a percent for arts in their capital improvement projects (Frisco has done the same), but they also require a percent for art from all PRIVATE developments as well, which goes into the Public Art budget (WOW!). This has led to an abundance of public art near roadways, sidewalks, and every development you see.<br />
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The way that we speak about our cities reveals our priorities and what we value. I'm committed to helping our city add on the tagline someday, "Best Place to Raise an Artist," or "Sports and Arts City USA." There's no reason we can't aspire to be both as a well-rounded city.<br />
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Frisco already has an impressive public art collection of over 70 pieces, and we've just updated the new Public Arts Master Plan. We also have a percent for art, and we have multiple developers who believe in adding art to their developments without a mandate. We may be behind in arts venues, but we are NOT behind in talent, passion, and parents who have children invested in the arts. We have a thriving creative arts community that when mobilized and given a chance to succeed, can positively impact the quality of life for all and become part of the identity of Frisco, just as we saw in Scottsdale.<br />
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3. <b>Creative Placemaking drives identity and tourism.</b><br />
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As the Scottsdale leadership spoke about their city, they kept referring to different districts in town: "The Arts District, the Entertainment District, the Museum District, the Fashion Square District, Old Town," and more. It was clear that Scottsdale has intentionally defined areas to tell a story of the community and highlight the strengths of each neighborhood. Their Scottsdale visitor's map outlines each district and describes the history of the place, the beauty of the place, and the culture of the place. This is the essence of creative placemaking, which contributes to their overall identity and drives tourism.<br />
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When I asked this question at our final debrief session, Frisco Development Services Director John Lettelleir shared that Frisco has recently adopted 5 distinct placemaking areas, though unnamed, in the new Downtown Master Plan. This can be accessed from the agenda of Tuesday October 16th's Council Meeting. This was one of the many benefits to the structure of the trip: being able to ask a question and having the right people there to answer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewdYfMNteRFM0TF3TTfSFYRTJaqenSmZFYwCV5BouFmy4tSZml25AiOmBd7F3D0TQFSnh_49CTDUcHCM8n9Ee-RoRkP6p2NAZIh62aGlS2uYunbi8SLEZ2hnOwVkkpRgTd86UczFYQYk/s1600/LEX18-Wrap-up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewdYfMNteRFM0TF3TTfSFYRTJaqenSmZFYwCV5BouFmy4tSZml25AiOmBd7F3D0TQFSnh_49CTDUcHCM8n9Ee-RoRkP6p2NAZIh62aGlS2uYunbi8SLEZ2hnOwVkkpRgTd86UczFYQYk/s320/LEX18-Wrap-up.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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4.<b> It's time to focus on Arts in Frisco.</b><br />
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To my delight, we spent an entire half day focused on Downtown Revitalization and Arts and Culture. After visiting the Museum of the West, the Scottsdale Performing Arts Center, the Contemporary Art Museum, and hearing from Scottsdale Arts President/CEO, the Public Art coordinator, and the story of how Canal Convergence came together, one thing was crystal clear: <b>Scottsdale has made an investment in the arts and they have no regrets.</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9iPMK4n1UAKrMyMlB0JjxtRH37gJiGlRLsj74QK0YD4qT3yq4Kpy7fGRP5lu-iVMRCcpzMYhOwJqN_riKRUuUSCijCixLBveSKeHLetnNJNQmWSl3ZskumgSZEehyphenhyphen0ga7pz-P-N3L8_o/s1600/LEX18-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9iPMK4n1UAKrMyMlB0JjxtRH37gJiGlRLsj74QK0YD4qT3yq4Kpy7fGRP5lu-iVMRCcpzMYhOwJqN_riKRUuUSCijCixLBveSKeHLetnNJNQmWSl3ZskumgSZEehyphenhyphen0ga7pz-P-N3L8_o/s320/LEX18-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Friends, this is the missing piece of the puzzle in Frisco. We've got to up our game for the arts, plain and simple. And it's not about the buildings themselves; it's about the mindset that the arts are valuable, that artists are important, and that "investing in the arts is not an either/or thing," as Gerd Wuestemann, President/CEO of Scottsdale Arts shared.<br />
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Also, the fact that we spent time touring the Performing Arts Center (PAC) as a group- not just select individuals, but with everyone, really shows how important this project is to our Frisco Chamber and city leadership. There was a time in Frisco (read previous blogs) where the discussion of a PAC would have resulted in further division and generating more ill-will than creative conversation. Now, the arts and an arts center project are embraced as a focus for our city, and though we have a lot of work to do before we get to the destination, it was an encouragement to see how far we've come.<br />
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5. <b>Relationships are the secret sauce to everything.</b><br />
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It's one thing to know a person in their role and title; it's entirely another to interact outside of work and discover new things together. I had already met about 75% of the group through previous work-related meetings, but this trip created opportunities to connect, discuss, and relate with each other at a whole new level.<br />
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For instance, I learned that a rugby-playing lawyer is actually an arts advocate, who loves to sing country music and has children in the arts. After chatting at length with the Scottsdale leadership and discussing ideas on the bus ride back, we are exploring a project together that emulates one of Scottsdale's signature events, Canal Convergence. This is the kind of collaboration that may never have happened without this trip.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1haon5kj3CU7SWqU-LL7evX-J4u3TJOYyUX2CqFjeNXXZCM1lWxhSvc7hGk3OXNhB5ya-kCT-u_eErt4mLa92VATvwXBXzV9A5hHALkAU5_AUy2ho76tf0RFWQSAutOifu2iMfas418/s1600/LEX18-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1haon5kj3CU7SWqU-LL7evX-J4u3TJOYyUX2CqFjeNXXZCM1lWxhSvc7hGk3OXNhB5ya-kCT-u_eErt4mLa92VATvwXBXzV9A5hHALkAU5_AUy2ho76tf0RFWQSAutOifu2iMfas418/s320/LEX18-7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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But most importantly, the biggest takeaway I learned that trumps all others is:<br />
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<b>Brush up on your karaoke skills before you take a trip with the Chamber!! </b><br />
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I may or may not have debuted as an Asian rapper at some point on this trip. (Sorry, no photos or videos. . . available to the public, that is.) #blackmail #please #culturalappropriation #poison #gangstaparadise (#LEX18 is the Best Trip Ever!)<br />
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In all seriousness though, thanks to all at the Frisco and Scottsdale Chamber that made this trip happen. It was an honor to represent Frisco Arts and Culture, and I left with new friends, deeper relationships, and fresh ideas for Frisco's future.<br />
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Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-87625233263997387022017-03-24T19:01:00.001-05:002017-03-25T00:34:50.018-05:00A Creative Revolution in Frisco!<style type="text/css">
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<span class="s1">Something magical happened on Saturday, March 18th, 2017 in Frisco, TX. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd3YiLL-78ibqiBCouBmDkg9UfEjfeUgc5kEHEl-hdVfhcFrIl5hrT_7QUCMQRLVAeSdWHdRfnXtJn2P1t3OzUfttPWrPza97OJpYF59ofOcCpZfohY1Stn0qAOmhE4zkmeH_YKYY7fqs/s320/Frisco+Arts+Opera+Event+at+Star+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd3YiLL-78ibqiBCouBmDkg9UfEjfeUgc5kEHEl-hdVfhcFrIl5hrT_7QUCMQRLVAeSdWHdRfnXtJn2P1t3OzUfttPWrPza97OJpYF59ofOcCpZfohY1Stn0qAOmhE4zkmeH_YKYY7fqs/s320/Frisco+Arts+Opera+Event+at+Star+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">It was a beautiful, 75-degree evening, and about 4,000 people congregated outdoors at a football facility's outdoor pavilion on a Saturday evening. . . to watch the Dallas Opera's LIVE Simulcast of Madame Butterfly.</span><br />
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</span><span class="s1">They started arriving around 5pm and brought lawn chairs, blankets, strollers, and my goodness, LOTS of kids! Before the opera started, the children enjoyed face painting, butterfly crafts, games, behind-the-scenes interviews with KLUV's Jody Dean. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-TRLhWztdfjwylU0W2_aMl3WbXjknUrCUjwAXo0oA6idCkODLVTrc2newYkurook27DIC0ivyqi7mQwMEl2AjpHSUWFvJCfi-T2AIaGYFVsfnCxBhs6bX-Ostfivma1u-fhBcEgMyLM/s1600/Dallas+Opera-+Face+Painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-TRLhWztdfjwylU0W2_aMl3WbXjknUrCUjwAXo0oA6idCkODLVTrc2newYkurook27DIC0ivyqi7mQwMEl2AjpHSUWFvJCfi-T2AIaGYFVsfnCxBhs6bX-Ostfivma1u-fhBcEgMyLM/s320/Dallas+Opera-+Face+Painting.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">As the sun began to set, the excitement and anticipation for the opening of the Opera was palpable. Not a square inch was available on the football turf, and people were spilling onto the concrete to find a spot to sit. </span><br />
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<span class="s1">Then suddenly, projected on the big jumbotron, was the stunning, massive chandelier inside the Winspear Opera House in Dallas. It truly felt like we were right there with our arts friends in Dallas. We could hear the audience's chatter inside the Opera House, and the orchestra's instruments warming up. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEqiBPgd58QYbK8uon0jb-8SkZzp32ApcxYD45LjEVMmdkvcmf6JfP6LQCvHKnAyykUKAgNt2gB3bBp0YOCfpOW4wNYyeIawcEqAPO_gYn8suSiUYlKDsZkAcP-db_MqapZJturVoVuko/s1600/Winspear+Chandelier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEqiBPgd58QYbK8uon0jb-8SkZzp32ApcxYD45LjEVMmdkvcmf6JfP6LQCvHKnAyykUKAgNt2gB3bBp0YOCfpOW4wNYyeIawcEqAPO_gYn8suSiUYlKDsZkAcP-db_MqapZJturVoVuko/s320/Winspear+Chandelier.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">The announcer began speaking, and the chandelier slowly disappeared into the ceiling, as it does before every performance. After the National Anthem was performed beautifully by the orchestra, the crowd cheered, and then everyone settled back into their blanketed seats and lawn chairs. A hush came over the crowd; we were ready to step into another world, told through the art of musical storytelling.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_ROqAMBu48gk8FgN6JDYSzVscelSznegGIy3fRohZGscroO5HyxU_Rztoced3ZkKB2npFEFdTfDH2jYdhfncxUfblKM70NztAvhdGtqRB9B1zZJEoZflvXv7sOZEI8I93ra-zuqPZdg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-03-24+at+7.44.44+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_ROqAMBu48gk8FgN6JDYSzVscelSznegGIy3fRohZGscroO5HyxU_Rztoced3ZkKB2npFEFdTfDH2jYdhfncxUfblKM70NztAvhdGtqRB9B1zZJEoZflvXv7sOZEI8I93ra-zuqPZdg/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-03-24+at+7.44.44+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">As the opera began, I wondered, "Would people stay for at least the first act? Would they be fidgety and bored? Would they decide after 10 minutes they had tried enough?" To my amazement, almost everyone sat in rapt attention. The videography brought you close up on stage, so you could see every expression, emotion, and nuance of color. The audience was quiet, respectful, and engaged. And it was a vastly diverse crowd- young, old, single, married with kids, all walks of life and all cultures. But this group came with a singular purpose; they had all chosen to give up their entire Saturday night to attend the Opera, and that's exactly what they did. Almost all 4,000 people stayed for the entire 3 hours. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpbG6gelx4p7eq8X8PRhrU7PdW5Lxyk594hIjAmOhOGCIDB_ePLdM2xMBg-8hitAeHBMHB4U9MoDYkPRYGmvXD9WYomm2c-z8R1iqk77E69G_Hg2SRsq249q12zIfwhPSKVX85kySsvU/s1600/Simulcast+Outdoor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpbG6gelx4p7eq8X8PRhrU7PdW5Lxyk594hIjAmOhOGCIDB_ePLdM2xMBg-8hitAeHBMHB4U9MoDYkPRYGmvXD9WYomm2c-z8R1iqk77E69G_Hg2SRsq249q12zIfwhPSKVX85kySsvU/s320/Simulcast+Outdoor.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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What this event showed so clearly is the NEED, not just a want, for greater performing arts programming in Frisco. I'm not talking Jimmy Buffett concerts, which are still great to have. But entertainment is different from performing arts, which includes opera, symphony, choir, Broadway, and more. The size of the audience at the Opera Simulcast in Frisco was the first tangible proof that if you build it, they will come. Actually, they are already here!!<br />
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Frisco is known for its hotels, office parks, malls, sports facilities, and great schools. But we CAN have more and expand the pie, bringing balance and something for everyone. Someday, Frisco will be a destination for the ARTS, and I won't stop until we get there!<br />
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</style>Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-82972289030142610412017-03-03T10:06:00.002-06:002021-12-04T22:45:10.946-06:00Opera at a Football Facility. . . Why Not?<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: medium;">When I was 4 years old, my parents took me to my first orchestra concert. The Chicago Symphony was performing at Orchestra Hall downtown, and we sat near the front. My parents are not proficient at any musical instruments, but they wanted to expose me to the world of music and orchestra. I was completely mesmerized by the violins, the sweet vibrato, the flying fingers, the experience of being engulfed in the incredible ranges of emotion and sound. </span><div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: medium;">I told my parents that night I had to learn the violin, and they didn't believe I was serious. So what did I do? I created a violin from a Kleenex box, ruler, rubber bands, and a chopstick bow. I was determined to play the violin! Eventually my parents realized I wasn't going to give up, and they found a great violin teacher for me. With her guidance, I performed my first concert at age 5 with the Rockford Symphony Orchestra at the Metro Center, and at that young age, I realized that the violin was my voice. It was how people could know the real Tammy. I went on to study music at Northwestern University in Evanston, IL, and I can honestly say that my involvement in music has completely changed my life. It set me on a course to where I am today, still performing both piano and violin, and now advocating for the arts in my new hometown of Frisco, TX.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">All that started from a spark at one concert, on one night, at age 4.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Exposing children to the vast, powerful, and engaging world of the arts is a passion of mine, and it's something that I believe every child should experience. We never know the full impact of a child's first taste of music, dance, theater, and visual art, but I can attest, it plants a seed that can take deep roots with time. There is great potential to birth inspiration as you open young minds to something they've never heard or seen before.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">So why not give the opera a try on March 18th at the Star in Frisco? Who knows- it could be the start of something new and exciting, for you and your kids! And what do you have to lose- </span><span style="font-size: medium;">this event is completely FREE! All the </span><span style="font-size: medium;">typical barriers that might have kept you from attending are gone: paying for tickets, driving to downtown Dallas, getting a sitter, or having to wrangle the kids to be quiet for a few hours. </span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There's even a Family Fun Zone of free butterfly-themed activities from 5-7pm before the show starts at 7:30pm. Even if you don't know the first thing about opera, just come. Give it a chance. If you don't like it, no one will judge you for leaving, but if you are intrigued, stay. Opera is essentially beautiful, musical storytelling, and what better way to try the opera than relaxing under the stars with your loved ones? So pack up your picnic blankets and chairs, bring your friends and family . . . and feed your soul in ways you never knew possible.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div>
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</div>Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-69775871885261520572014-12-17T22:30:00.002-06:002014-12-18T08:34:36.631-06:00The Arts in Frisco, TX- Why the Controversy?When I ask people about the arts in Frisco, TX, I am shocked when I see a visceral reaction of negativity and fear. It is palpable. I'll get a terse smile, a deep breath, and I can tell words are being carefully crafted before daring to be spoken.<br />
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I grew up near Chicago, IL, a city that deeply understands the great public value of arts and culture. It's not questioned, it doesn't need to be justified; it's simply part of the daily conversation, intentionally woven into the very fabric of the city. I have to say, I miss it. I miss it terribly. <br />
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What has caused this black eye in Frisco's history with the arts? What happened that has turned something so innately beautiful and unifying as the arts into fractured, broken pieces?<br />
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Let me pull back the curtain to reveal what I've learned about this complex history.<br />
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2000<br />
In 2000, a nationally award-winning Millenium plan was put in place for the city of Frisco. It included a vision for the arts that states, "The City of Frisco should develop a community center for all ages, and/or cultural facilities (museum, performing arts center, etc)." That was the vision for the arts in Frisco, 14 years ago.<br />
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2002<br />
In 2002, a project came to the table called the Arts of Collin County, or later renamed the Arts of North Texas. It was a joint effort of neighboring cities to create a 2,100-seat performing arts venue as a regional cultural arts magnet. There was a bond election at the time, and Frisco voters approved $19M towards creating this facility.<br />
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2006<br />
In 2006, a Comprehensive Plan was formed for Frisco created by citizens who had a vision for Frisco's future. One of the objectives was, "Establish Frisco as a center for arts, education, and entertainment." Other points included: "Increase cultural opportunities and choices through initiatives including more public art venues," and "Enhance the role of downtown as the cultural and social center of the city; reinforce and strengthen downtown as the heart of Frisco."<br />
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With this Comprehensive Plan in place, a new bond election occurred in 2006, and voters approved $5M towards Frisco's own "science and cultural arts facility," a separate bond from the larger Arts of Collin County project located in Allen, TX, right on the outskirts of Frisco.<br />
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2010<br />
In 2010, the Frisco Discovery Center was born. It was created by converting the former aerospace building on Cotton Gin Road and the Dallas North Tollway into the Sci-Tech Discovery Center (a children's science museum), a 120-seat Black Box Theater, an "Art Gallery" (one hallway and central lobby space in the building), and a back-of-house space that could be used for special events. Frisco Association for the Arts, the city's official arts agency, was chosen to be the managers of the entire space.<br />
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2011<br />
In 2011, all hell broke loose. <br />
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I can't pinpoint how it all started, but I can say, it was BIG. Big enough to recall the 2002 bond measure for $19M that was already approved, big enough to have so much campaigning and politicking for or against the bond measure that it caused irrevocable damage to the community's understanding of the arts. Friends became foes, lines were drawn in the sand, and the city became divided. . . over the arts. Being pro-arts was considered fiscally irresponsible, rhetoric like "needs vs. wants" or "arts is a hobby" became pervasive, and there was no middle ground. You either supported Frisco's infrastructure and safety, or you were a crazy arts person. You couldn't be both.<br />
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Essentially, Frisco voters were given an opportunity to change a bond measure that had already been approved in 2002. How did that happen? Why was it targeted? That in itself is disturbing. But what's just as disheartening is that the project was less than $300,000 away from getting the shovel to the ground, and had it started before 2011, there would have been no turning back. <br />
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The end result was that in 2011, Frisco voters revoked the city's authority to issue the remaining $16.4M from the original $19M. The City Council members stated that they couldn't support a performing arts center that was not in Frisco. If it were located in Frisco, some councilmen assured, they would have voted for it.<br />
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Once Frisco pulled out of the 3-city project, it died. There was no recovery. Frisco was blamed for ruining the project and having no vision, but on the flip side, Frisco was also called a hero by those who believed it was the most fiscally responsible thing to do in an economic downturn. And again, it wasn't in Frisco.<br />
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2014<br />
It's 2014. Suddenly, a perfect storm has arrived. A judge ruled that the 3 cities involved in the Arts of Collin County project will receive a small portion of funds back from their initial investment. A week later, I gave a presentation with 2 other volunteers/arts advocates and the Community Development Corporation president to the 2015 Citizen Bond Committee in favor of a Cultural and Performing Arts Center IN Frisco and BY Frisco, asking for $20M in bonds to show the city's commitment to the arts and to attract a quality, dedicated partner.<br />
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The very next day, there were 4 forms of media asking our team's input on this issue: KRLD News Radio, Dallas Morning News, Community Impact News, and Channel 11. The number one question? What do you say about Frisco voting down the Arts of Collin County project in 2011? Is it too early to be asking for an arts venue in Frisco given the history?<br />
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Is it too EARLY? I submit it is 14 years TOO LATE!<br />
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2015<br />
As we get close to entering the new year, we must change the conversation about the arts in Frisco. Art is the most beautiful form of human expression, a universal form of communication. Art unites, it does not divide. Art inspires, it does not create enmity. We must remove the fear and negativity that surround the arts in Frisco. No one likes a nagging wife who can't let go of an issue and keeps bringing up what didn't work, especially after it has been resolved. That's how this 2011 issue is treated; we have to LET IT GO. If we just keep looking back at this dark history, we will never move forward.<br />
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I believe that this 2015 Bond election is a litmus test in time. Future generations are going to point to this moment, this particular bond election, and make a determination about what we value. The character of the city is on the line. What is Frisco all about? Are we designing a well-rounded city? Are we preserving our culture and creating sustainability for the remaining 40% left to build? Or will we continue to be known as the best place to raise a professional athlete because of our public commitment to world-class sports facilities? Will we only focus on the bones of the city (infrastructure), and neglect the heart and soul (arts), which is what gives every city its unique identity? Will we decide a facility for the arts can wait another 5-7 years until the next bond election in 2020? Or can we finally fulfill a 14-year vision for the arts to create a balanced face for Frisco? <br />
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These are all questions that I will be bringing to the table at our Citizen Bond Committee meetings in January 2015. I expect opposition, but I know I am in the right place at the right time for this issue in Frisco. And I hope that someday, the arts will become part of the very fabric of Frisco as it is in all great cities, and that we will be known as the place to be for the arts, not in spite of it.Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-54059618460795266542013-06-12T00:54:00.000-05:002017-03-25T00:22:01.971-05:00The Multicultural MinuteThis year I started something at our elementary school called the "Multicultural Minute", celebrating the cultural diversity within our own school. I've had a lot of people ask me what it is and how it works, so here are the answers to some frequently asked questions!<br />
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<b>1. What is the Multicultural Minute?</b><br />
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It is a short segment during our Friday morning school assembly where we feature a child whose parents were born in another country or whose family speaks another language at home. The child comes on stage, says "Good Morning Bledsoe (Elementary), my name is ____" in their language, counts to 10, and teaches us how to say "hello" and "goodbye". The child and his family are also featured on the bulletin board in the main hallway which includes a large map of the world; this helps the student body learn their geography as well as get to know their multicultural peers.<br />
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To get a quick overview of how we implemented the Multicultural Minute at Bledsoe Elementary in Frisco, TX this year, here's a video featured by Frisco ISD-TV: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1M97lkz3Bhc">Multicultural Minute</a><br />
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<b>2. How did the Multicultural Minute get started?</b><br />
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It literally came from a lunch conversation I had during a PTA conference in Austin last summer. After attending a few Diversity/Inclusiveness breakout sessions, I heard a lot of interesting facts about the changing demographic of our schools in TX, and I realized that we didn't have a consistent way to highlight these different cultures. I shared with our PTA president my idea about featuring a student/family during the morning assembly and calling it the "Multicultural Minute." She loved it and we shared it with our principal, who was also totally on board. I wasn't sure if we would have a lot of participation in our first year, but we ended up having 21 countries represented, 24 languages, and 43 student speakers!<br />
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<b>3. What is the purpose of the Multicultural Minute?</b><br />
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The mission and purpose of the Multicultural Minute is to celebrate the diversity at our school, help kids feel proud of their heritage, and open the minds of the entire student body to the value of each person regardless of racial differences. Personally, this is such a stark contrast from how I felt growing up as a 2nd-generation Korean-American; I was embarrassed by my race, hated speaking a different language at home, and was ridiculed by others for being different. The Multicultural Minute does the opposite and allows kids to see that being different is not bad- it's actually special and should be celebrated!<br />
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<b>4. What's the process to implement this at my school?</b><br />
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I recommend the first thing to do is talk with your PTA president and your principal to make sure you have their support. After that, you can follow some of these processes I used this year. Feel free to change and modify anything to best fit your school!</div>
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A. FLYER</div>
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Create a flyer describing the Multicultural Minute and ask people to sign up if they are interested in participating in the program. Ask for the child's name, grade, teacher, parents' email, country of origin, and language to be spoken. We sent out the flyer during the first 2 weeks of school and I collected them throughout the year. I also passed out the flyers during Meet-the-Teacher Night later in the fall.</div>
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B. SCHEDULE</div>
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Based on your responses from the flyer, organize a schedule of speakers. We started out with a speaker every other week at the morning assembly and that worked well.</div>
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C. BULLETIN BOARD<br />
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Using a map of the world (I purchased one at the local teacher's store), create a bulletin board that displays the following:</div>
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- Continents and Countries</div>
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- Speaker's family picture</div>
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- Name and grade of speaker</div>
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- Name of Country and Language featured</div>
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- "Hello" and "Goodbye" written phonetically in their language</div>
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- Arrow pointing to the country featured</div>
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- Gold star placed on the country featured</div>
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Having a bulletin board displayed through the week helps the student body (as well as visitors) learn about the program, speak a new language, and get to know the participating students and their families.</div>
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D. QUESTIONNAIRE</div>
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Send out an email questionnaire to the speaker's parents 2 weeks before they are up for the Multicultural Minute. Ask for the following information:</div>
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- Birthplace of the parents</div>
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- Birthplace of children</div>
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- When the family moved to the US</div>
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- Name of the country and language featured</div>
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- Written words for "hello" and "goodbye" in their language</div>
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- 1-2 interesting facts about their country</div>
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- Ask for a family picture (or an email with an attachment which I then printed out for the bulletin board)</div>
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- Ask students to wear any traditional clothing for the assembly. (One little girl wanted to keep wearing her traditional outfit from Pakistan all day long!)</div>
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- Ask students to practice saying "Good Morning, my name is _____", counting from 1-10, and saying "hello" and "goodbye" in their language.</div>
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<i>Note: Some of the families did not use email. In those cases, I sent a hard copy home with the teacher. Also, there were times throughout the year where I had 2-3 different speakers for the same language, so I would combine and have them come on stage together.</i><br />
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E. SCRIPT</div>
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Once you obtain the information from the questionnaire, write out a complete script of what you will say during the assembly and who will say what. This should include everything in the questionnaire that you think is relevant and can fit within 1-2 minutes. Send this to the parents a week before their turn so they can practice it with their children before the kids come up on stage. In some cases, parents also wanted to come on stage and participate with their children, which was really special. (We had a mom from Ghana sing their national anthem, and a mom from Australia help teach the Aussie war cry!)<br />
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<i>Note: Our first few times, I did not write out a script and several of the kids froze once they got on stage. It's difficult to get up and speak when you have 500 eyes staring at you! I found that once I wrote out a script and asked parents to practice it with their kids at home, the stage fright greatly decreased and kids were more prepared for what was going to happen.</i><br />
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F. PRESENTATION</div>
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The most visible part of the Multicultural Minute is coming up on stage with your speakers and presenting them to the assembly. In my script, I wrote out exactly what I'd say so that I could memorize the interesting facts about each country, introduce the student by name/grade/teacher, and make the "interview" feel really personal. I don't think it's necessary to memorize the script, but it certainly made it easier for me to be more comfortable on stage. It also helped to practice saying "hello" and "goodbye" in all the different languages beforehand!</div>
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G. FOLDER<br />
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After the Multicultural Minute was complete, I would put everything back into a folder that had a file for each country. The file includes the printed words for "hello" and "goodbye" in their language that I used for the bulletin board, name of country/language, and the script used for the presentation. This helped organize the countries/languages we featured this year in order to prevent overlap and repetition. I would ideally like to see new countries and new speakers in the next year!</div>
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<b>5. Is there anything you would change for next year?</b><br />
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Yes. I need help!! It was a lot of work to undertake this on my own, and I would recommend having a team of people to help you with the flyers, the bulletin board, gathering information from parents, printing pictures, writing the script, and presenting at the assembly. I am hoping to divide up the responsibilities next year so we can have a rotation of people who will present at the assembly. Right now I have one other volunteer to present, but I could definitely use more!<br />
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Hope that helps! If you have any other questions, feel free to comment and let me know how I can assist you. I think you will find that this program will bring your school's community together and create a very welcoming and inviting culture!</div>
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Tammisuhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07338480042916555302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-65450664989564877392013-02-01T00:23:00.000-06:002017-03-25T00:08:50.648-05:00Does playing metal mean I'm losing my religion?I've recently purchased an electric violin. It's something I never thought I'd play, but I borrowed one over Christmas break, and the sounds that came through my amplifier made me feel like I was playing an electric guitar! It has catapulted me into wanting to hear and play the craziest guitar-driven songs, primarily. . . metal. <br />
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I wasn't allowed to listen to pop music growing up, let alone metal! My days were filled with Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms, as well as some Mendelssohn, Chopin, and Debussy. I was trained classically on the piano and violin, and with all of the practicing required of me, I didn't have a chance to explore any other types of music unless I stealthily changed the channel on my radio while I was studying late at night. That's when I was introduced to bands like Depeche Mode, Erasure, New Order, and also Chicago, Cheap Trick, U2, and of course, George Michael. "Got to have faith. . . yeah, yeah. . . got to have faith, faith, faith!"<br />
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Interesting point George. I do have faith in God and a personal relationship with Jesus, but now that I am listening to Iron Maiden, Metallica, Slayer, Baroness, Led Zeppelin, Lynyrd Skynyrd, AC/DC, Guns 'n Roses, etc., does that mean I've lost the faith? Can I listen to some of their dark lyrics yet still call myself a Christian? <br />
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Here's my answer: Yes.<br />
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Why? Well first, I'm actually not listening to any lyrics, so I'm not looking to change my life philosophy. I'm only interested in the music, and can I say, these metal guitarists are mad talented!! It's not easy to play their riffs, and they have created some very innovative melodies that when stripped from high-octane lyrics and performance antics, are incredibly beautiful and technically challenging. Dare I say that some riffs are practically on par with Paganini and Mendelssohn as far as level of difficulty? <br />
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I'm also finding that when I take the skeleton of the song and put flesh on it with the electric violin, it becomes a completely different animal. Is there a name for it? Violinist David Garrett calls it "Rock Symphony," pianist Scott Davis refers to it as "Rockfluence," my name for it is. . . "Metalin." I never dreamed I'd listen to metal and then want to play it on the violin, but it is my newest hobby and has completely taken over the hours of 10:30pm-1:00am almost every night. I just plug in my headset on the electric violin, and my family doesn't have to be bothered while they sleep and I practice!<br />
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But the other thing about my faith is this: I believe that God loves me, and because He loves me, He takes joy in my joy. Just as I take great delight in my children's delight of something I've given them, I believe He delights in my love of music. He's the Creator of music, and when I play, I play for Him, regardless of what genre the song comes from. Colossians 3:17a says, "And whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord." That means that everything counts; everything I do can be an opportunity to give God glory, whether it's washing the dishes, making a meal, teaching lessons, or practicing metal on the electric violin! God desires to be at the center of everything I'm doing, and when I give Him the best in every aspect of my life, it's all about Him and not about me. <br />
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So no, I don't think playing metal means that I'm losing my religion. In fact, I lost my "religion" a long time ago- I don't like that word anyway! Playing "metalin" allows me to spend time enjoying the gift of music that God created, and there's nothing I love more than being in His presence, playing for Him.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-31991632990730033572012-11-08T23:05:00.001-06:002013-02-20T18:28:40.913-06:00The Trip out of Frankenstorm: Part 6 (The Amazing Race Home!)When I walked into the Philadelphia Airport at about 5:15am after being dropped off by Gabby, I saw on the screen that the 2 flights before me heading from Philly to Dallas were canceled. I went to the ticket counter and asked if they knew why those previous flights were canceled and if my 11:20am flight was at risk. They said they didn't know why and that it was possible my flight would be canceled, especially since planes were not coming in that were necessary for the connecting flights. I felt a wave of panic, wondering if I might be now stranded in Philly, but it subsided a little when I received a boarding pass in my hand. The flight wasn't canceled. . . yet.<br />
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I had 5 hours to kill and probably should have slept since I was running on a total of about 3 hours of sleep in 2 days, but all I could think about was whether or not I would be boarding that plane. I was now so close to getting home that I could almost taste it. If the flight remained intact, I'd land in Dallas at 2pm, drive to my house by 2:30 (my car was in the airport parking garage), and surprise the kids when they got home from school at 2:50pm. Then I'd have a little time to settle in, change, and get ready for our Halloween Block party starting at 4pm in my yard.<br />
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I sat myself down at an airport restaurant where I could plug in my phone and get some breakfast. I ordered food but couldn't eat because my stomach was in knots, waiting to see if my flight would be canceled. I just drank hot tea and checked the computer screens every half hour to see the status of my flight. There were still some lingering dark clouds outside, so I asked people to pray that God would clear up the skies. <br />
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At about 10:30am, the sun began to shine, and I had hope that I was really going to be getting on that plane. When they announced we were boarding, I almost cried. I took a picture of the plane and posted it on FB so people could rejoice with me that I was going home!!<br />
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I slept the whole way, and when I awoke, we were in Dallas- earlier than expected, at 1:45pm! I felt an incredible amount of relief and thanked God for the safe journey. However, I knew I wouldn't fully rejoice until I actually pulled up into my driveway; this trip had already shown me that every leg of traveling was up for grabs.<br />
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Boy, was I right. I got off the plane, walked to baggage claim, and waited, and waited, and waited. After about 30 minutes with no bags appearing on the conveyor belt, a lady walks in and announces, "Sorry ladies and gentlemen, there is a jam on the conveyor belt. We are working on it. Thanks for your patience." I laughed. "Patience" was the operative word this week!<br />
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While I waited, I was able to secure communication to my girls through friends that I was really coming home but was running late, I enlisted help in getting some extra Halloween candy since I had forgotten to purchase it, and a friend was going to pick up some Korean food for me to eat so I'd have energy for the party! Things were coming together; I just needed to get home!!<br />
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I finally got my luggage and was racing to my car. I was SO ready to rip out of the airport! I tried to unlock the car with my remote, but nothing happened. I pressed it again- no beep. I then manually unlocked the car and got in. I thought it was strange that no lights turned on; what was going on? I tried to start the car- nothing. No engine, no sound, nothing. I froze; this couldn't actually be happening. . . my car won't start? What?? God, really, is there some reason you don't want me to go home??<br />
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I called Todd; no answer. I then decided, "You know what? I need to get home. I am leaving my car here and getting in a cab right now." So I posted my dilemma on FB because it was too crazy not to report, and then got in a cab headed out of the airport. About a minute later, I got a message from my friend John who was 3 miles from the airport and said he could jumpstart my car. I couldn't believe it! I immediately told the cab to turn around and take me straight to my car in the parking garage. I paid him for his time, and then waited for John.<br />
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He was there within minutes and had everything he needed to get my car started! The only weird thing was that my car would not stop honking. John was trying to figure out how to stop it, but I said I didn't care if it honked all the way home; I was driving it ASAP! He turned the car off and started it again several times, and finally the honking stopped. I thanked him profusely and he made sure I drove out safely to the exit.<br />
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It was now about 3:15pm. I was going to make it to the party!! I just prayed nonstop that I would not get into an accident on my way home. . .<br />
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I drove into my driveway at 3:45pm, and as soon as I got there, the doors flew open and my girls were ready for hugs! I held them tightly and told them how much I loved them and missed them, and they said the same through tears. They were so excited I was home for the Halloween party, so we got changed quickly and started setting everything up outside. People started to trickle in around 4, and it was a great party with lots of celebrating! Several friends came up and told me that they had been stalking me on Facebook for updates, or that I was the topic of conversation at work, or that they considered themselves weather experts on Superstorm Sandy now, just because I was there. A few admitted that they really were scared that I wasn't coming back, but they didn't want to say anything to me at the time. It was so interesting to hear others' perspectives on my trip and how they handled the stress; I was touched by all their stories and glad to have a happy ending to the madness!<br />
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At the end of the night, I practically fell over from exhaustion, but I gave thanks to God for my family, friends, and even Facebook for getting me home, supporting me through the scariest night of my life, and being part of a story that I'll never forget as long as I live! Each kind stranger, every text, phone call, FB note, or private prayer for me during those few days was critical and sustained me, truly. I may never know how many people prayed for my safety, but I can tell you I'm here because of it. This whole blog series has been a way for me to process what happened, but also to thank everyone in my life who cared so much and showered me with love! <br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-45709099401644322742012-11-04T01:53:00.001-05:002012-11-04T08:01:43.215-06:00The Trip out of Frankenstorm: Part 5 (Gabby saves the day!)So, how would I get from NYC to Philly? No planes were flying out of La Guardia, the subways were flooded and no buses were traveling, but Amtrak was selling tickets. I purchased a ticket that left at 7am which would leave me plenty of time to get there for the 11:20am flight to Dallas. I breathed a sigh of relief. <br />
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We got a call from Ken and Angie saying that they could barely find a taxi to drive them back to Battery Park City since the roads were flooded, so we should just stay where we were in Midtown for dinner.<br />
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Peter and I decided to go out to dinner- to Korean BBQ of course! We left around 7:30pm, hoping the lines might be shorter, and they were a little. We enjoyed an awesome meal and he introduced me to soju (Korean vodka). I had never had it before, and Peter said if I wanted to remain his sibling, I must enjoy some with him. I was getting to know all sorts of things about Peter that I hadn't before this trip!</div>
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When we got home, I got a phone call; Amtrak was canceling all trains due to flooding in the tunnels. I freaked out again; I was desperate to get home. I called every airline to see who was getting to Philly; at one point I was going to rent a car to drive 2 hours to Scranton (yes, the Office hub) to fly out to Philly. When I told Peter my plan, he looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Tam, stop and think! The roads are flooded, it's dangerous, you could get stuck somewhere out there all by yourself. Just stay here another day and be safe." I shook my head adamantly and said, "I can't!! It's unacceptable!! I WILL find a way to Philly!!"</div>
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After about 2 hours of researching and calling around for options, I finally admitted defeat. It was about 12:30am, and I called my neighbor Stephanie (who is a night owl too) and told her that I wasn't going to make it to the Halloween block party after all. We went over some details of what time things were being set up at the house, where my girls costumes were in their rooms so she could help change them, other odds and ends. Since all the flyers had said the party was held at my address (and there was no way to inform the whole subdivision that it was changing locations on the day of), we decided to keep everything stationed there, but she would come over and help set up, letting everyone know I was stuck in NY. I remember saying, "I can't believe I won't be there after all this planning. I can't believe I have to tell my kids I'm not coming home again. I just need to get to Philly; there MUST be a way!" when I got a text from my college friend Gabby who lives in Philly. I shrieked a little and told Stephanie I'd call her back once I talked with Gabby. My heart was racing; I knew this wasn't coincidence.</div>
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And it wasn't! Gabby was working at the hospital, and her charge nurse had almost sent her home at 7pm. Gabby's power was out at home, so had she gone home then, she would have missed my Facebook post pleading for help to get to Philly! Instead, she was there at the hospital and finished around 1am, checked her email and Facebook to find out how things were going with the storm. She saw my post and immediately texted me, asking if I was still awake. I texted back "YES!" and then called her. She said, "I'll come get you and bring you to the airport right now." My mouth dropped open; I couldn't believe it! I hesitated and asked, "Gabby, that's a 2-hour drive, and it's in the middle of the night. Are you sure?" She said, "I'm already driving and on my way! Where can we meet? Just find a place that's not in Manhattan so we don't get stuck there." </div>
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I had tears of joy and gratitude; I couldn't believe God had arranged a personal ride from a good friend that I hadn't seen in 15 years to be my way out to Philly. He had shut all the other doors of transportation so I could ride in a car and catch up with Gabby Brinton!! I laughed when I visualized myself like a child throwing a tantrum screaming, "I need it NOW!" and God holding me tightly saying, "Just wait a little longer and trust me- I've got it all figured out for you."</div>
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Peter was in shock too and said, "Now that is a good friend." Poor guy was so exhausted but waited up for me as I took a shower, got my stuff ready to go, and was trying to figure out where we could meet up that would be a safe place. I certainly didn't want to be standing around somewhere in NYC in the dark! We were looking for 24-hour CVS Pharmacy locations across the Lincoln Tunnel (the only dry tunnel) into New Jersey, but none of them were answering the phones. Finally I chose a parking lot of a supermarket in Weehawken, NJ as our meeting place and called Gabby with the location.</div>
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I gave Peter a big hug and said thanks for everything during this whole time, and he went to bed; it was about 3am. I got a cab on my own outside the building and prayed for the best. We drove through the tunnel and on the other side into New Jersey, it was pitch black. There were no lights on anywhere, and the only way we could see was through the help of a few police car sirens lighting the way. We wouldn't be able to find this supermarket, so I called Gabby and she said there was a McDonalds that was open by the JFK turnpike in Weehawken. We got there safely and I had the cab driver take our picture; it was a HUGE blessing to see her!<br />
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What we didn't know until later was that most of lower Manhattan, Hoboken, and Staten Island had flooded and there were no cabs driving out of NY to NJ. There were even some reports of flooding in Weehawken the next day, but somehow, by God's grace, He made a way for me to get a cab and drive out on dry land to NJ in the dark.</div>
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Gabby and I picked up some coffee at McDonald's and then started on the road. We laughed that we were both pulling an all-nighter like we used to in college! We chatted about what we did after college, talked a bit about our mutual friend Gloria who had passed away in August, and told each other what life was like now being married with kids; we picked up naturally like we had just seen each other yesterday. Friendships like that are so rare! 2 hours went flying by, and we arrived at the Philadelphia Airport at about 5am. I gave her a huge hug and told her I would never, ever forget what she did for me. She said it was exciting for her to be part of the adventure, and that she knew how much I wanted to get home so she was glad to help. I still couldn't believe that she was willing to drive for 4 hours in the middle of the night, after work, and not even hesitate about it for a second. If you know her, you know how special she is. And if you don't, I hope that you will have the honor of meeting her someday. I am blessed to have a friend like Gabby!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-38948789237087566262012-11-04T01:06:00.004-05:002012-11-05T23:17:02.282-06:00The Trip out of Frankenstorm: Part 4 (Gotta get to Philly- again!!)Somehow it was morning (Tuesday Oct. 30), and we survived Hurricane Sandy!! I thanked God when I awoke and saw that the windows were not blown in, that the sky was calm, and the city was still intact. Dez and I did some more dancing to M.C. Hammer's "Can't Touch This" with the sock monkey, and my brother Peter, the budding DJ, showed me how to use his turntable to mix songs together and we had some fun! We thought we should create a "Sandy Mix" of songs as a souvenir of our experience. He showed me some awesome mixes of "Gangnam Style" with "Call Me Maybe" and other unusual choices! <br />
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Ken and Angie found out that miraculously, their building in Battery Park City did not lose power even though much of the area did. Again, coincidence? Or the power of prayer? They planned to return to their place right away and began packing.</div>
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I got a phone call that my flight out that night was canceled. No surprise; I waited on hold again to figure out how I was going to get home. I finally booked a flight that went out Wednesday morning (Halloween) from La Guardia to Philadelphia at 9:15am, then from Philadelphia to Dallas at 11:20am, which would get me home by 2:00pm. That was perfect since I would make it to our Halloween block party AT MY HOUSE by 4pm. This party had been planned for months, with flyers going out to everyone in our subdivision about our bounce house, karaoke cab, and Halloween treats. I could NOT miss this!!</div>
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We said good-bye to Ken, Angie, and Dez, and planned to meet them for dinner at their place later that night. Peter and I went outside to see if anything was open for lunch- in Korea-town, of course. We were shocked at the sheer amount of people out! Every restaurant had a line out the door. We tried waiting at a Korean BBQ restaurant and struck up a conversation with the guy in front of us who said that everyone from lower Manhattan was headed to where there was power; Korea-town was on 32nd and still had power, so this was the spot!</div>
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Peter and I decided to just grab something from Cafe R next to his apartment. It's like a mini Whole-Foods with prepared meals ready to go; since they had kept power, they were exploding with customers too. We finally got our meals, ate in the lounge, relaxed and talked for a while.</div>
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When we returned back to the room, I got a phone call that my flight was canceled. I officially started to freak out. Peter was laughing at me as I started jumping around in the room saying, "No!!! I CANNOT stay here another day!! I have GOT to get home!!" </div>
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I convinced US Airways to let me keep the connecting flight from PA to TX; the person on the phone asked, "How are you going to get to Philly?" and I said, "Don't worry about it. I will get there. You just make sure I get back to Dallas."</div>
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I was on a mission. I HAD to get back to Philly. Wait, didn't I say this just a few days ago? But this time there was more urgency. I had spoken to my girls and told them mommy was going to be home for Halloween since they were in tears about me being gone for so long. Both Chloe (9) and Sophie (6) had vomited during the last 2 days, and Ellie (11) was feeling a lot of pressure to take care of them and be the "mom." I could not let them down and miss the party that we had all planned together, and they were counting on me to be there for our family costume: Psy (Todd), his Korean dancer (obviously me), Katy Perry (Ellie), Pink (Chloe), and Taylor Swift (Sophie). I couldn't bear the thought of telling them that I would be here another day! I needed a miracle!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-65994504672173382262012-11-04T00:15:00.000-05:002012-11-04T01:31:37.973-06:00The Trip out of Frankenstorm: Part 3 (Sandy's Fury and Facebook Frenzy)Once my perspective had changed on the storm, Dez woke up from his nap about 4pm, and we all decided to get out of the room for a while. We went down to the 7th floor where there was a lounge, pool table, gym, and basketball court. Ken and Peter shot some hoops and I took a walk on the treadmill. Dez ran around with a ball in the gym too, so we all got some energy out. We thought about staying there longer to play pool and relax with some coffee, but then changed our minds quickly when we considered the idea that if the power went out soon, we'd have to walk 44 flights of stairs back to our room!<br />
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Once we got back to our room about 5pm, we could see the bright lights of the city from our windows through the rain. Seeing life around me made me feel a bit safer, knowing that we weren't alone. I could even see the World Trade Center lights again through the clouds, which was comforting.<br />
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Ken, Peter, and Angie began making our "last supper": spaghetti with vegetables and meat sauce. I was babysitting Dez while they cooked- a nice break for them and for me! We prayed, thanking God for our meal and the time we had together. We kept the news on so we could watch what was happening throughout the city. Battery Park City was beginning to flood, Jersey Shore and Atlantic City were slammed really hard, and we watched in horror as personal videos were streaming in of a Carnival cruise ship that was riding huge waves and batting water in cabins.<br />
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I decided to keep a closer record on Facebook of what was happening in the storm so that my friends and family could be informed and pray for us. I committed to writing an update even if I began flying through the air!<br />
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At about 8pm, we saw on the news that Sandy had ripped off the face of an apartment building in Chelsea, just a few blocks south of us. I asked people to pray harder for our safety now that we knew Sandy was really approaching. I immediately received prayers, notes, texts and Bible verses from friends, which was a huge comfort. It almost felt like with every bit of communication, someone was there with me, helping me walk through the most frightening experience of my life.<br />
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We started to feel the building shake and creak with the wind. The windows sounded like they were popping a bit, and the lights began flickering. Peter and I cautiously looked out the window and saw that most of lower Manhattan had lost power; there were no more lights on in the World Trade Center towers. I felt more unnerved at that moment; I looked to those towers for a sense of normality, and it wasn't there anymore.<br />
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As we sat and braced ourselves for more of Sandy's fury, we saw that the doors to the bedroom were slowly swinging back and forth on their own because the building was swaying. Someone texted me to take a look at the toilet water to see if it was moving on its own, and it was! We decided to shut the doors to the bedrooms and stay in the main living room where there were no windows in case they all came crashing down. The doors then began to rattle on their own as the building continued shaking. The wind whipped around us and the building literally moaned.<br />
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I remembered that a man in the elevator had told me to keep a glass of wine on the table to see if the wine or the glass would move on its own. It seemed the right time now to put it out on our table as a way to judge how much our building was shaking, and when I posted what we were doing, someone replied, "And when it starts moving, drink it!" <br />
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Peter received an email from the building manager that they were shutting down the elevators; we were now stuck on the 51st floor and the only way out would be to walk. We then got a call from ComEd saying that there our power would be going out soon and to be prepared. The lights flickered a little more; I posted on Facebook to pray that we would not join those whose power had been lost. We waited, and waited, and waited. <br />
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The power never went out. Miraculously, the power was out from 30th street down. We were on 31st street and kept our power, but some buildings even north of us lost power. Coincidence? Or an answer to prayer? You be the judge.<br />
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We weren't sure if everything had subsided, but we decided to shut off the news and start watching one show we all enjoy: The Voice. We needed to get our mind off things and we talked about all the different contestants in the battle rounds of the competition as we viewed the previous week's episode. <br />
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About an hour or so later, we opened the doors to the bedrooms again to look out the windows. Most of Manhattan was pitch black with loss of power; we couldn't believe how different the city looked without the lights. You could see sirens sprawling out over the city; I could only imagine what was going on in the dark, dead of night in New York City. I prayed for those people who were probably much more frightened now than we were.<br />
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We put our hands on the windows and we could feel the pressure of the wind against us; it was incredibly forceful. The windows still made crazy popping sounds, like any second they would crack! My brother Ken said in his signature chill manner, "Yeah, I think we got past the storm. I'm going to bed." And with that, everyone went to their rooms.<br />
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Except me. There was NO WAY I was sleeping in a room with floor to ceiling windows making popping noises all night!! I "slept" on the couch in the living room and videotaped the creepy creaking noises and popping for my girls to hear when I got home. When I replayed the video, it really looked like a Halloween horror movie! Frankenstorm certainly lived up to its name!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-33982711154784958412012-11-02T20:28:00.003-05:002012-11-04T07:54:19.813-06:00The Trip Out of Frankenstorm: Part 2 (Turning Point)Monday morning (Oct. 29), I received a call that my rescheduled flight was canceled due to the storm. I stayed on the phone for about 2 hours to get a live person to reschedule it again for Tuesday night, and I canceled all my lessons for Tuesday.<br />
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My nephew Dez waddled into my room with his blankie and pacifier, and we played for a while. He is a techie genius, able to navigate my iPhone with incredible precision for a 2-year-old! I had bought him a sock monkey the night before that sang "Can't Touch This" by M.C. Hammer, and Dez would laugh hysterically when he pressed the button for the sock monkey to start dancing like a maniac. I usually only get to see Dez twice a year, so spending this extra bonding time with him was such a gift!<br />
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After a while, my brothers and I looked out the window and could see the clouds getting darker and gathering closer together. We were on the 51st floor of Peter's apartment building, which gave us incredible views of lower Manhattan and parts of New Jersey. Peter and I joked that we would be citizen journalists that day, posting pictures on Facebook so everyone could see real time events. <br />
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We turned on the TV and watched the reports that said the storm would get worse around the afternoon/evening, so we decided to go out and walk around a bit to get some fresh air. It was about 10am at the time. Dez loved walking the streets of New York and dancing in the blowing wind! We were amazed at how empty the streets were; barely anyone was driving or walking. You could stand in the middle of the street and it would be several minutes until you saw a car come through.<br />
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We ended up going back to our favorite place to eat: Korea-town. Korea-town in New York is heaven on earth for me; it offers different Korean restaurants- Korean BBQ, dumpling houses, soup/tofu restaurants, Korean bakery and dessert shops- anything and everything Korean for several blocks straight! Most of K-town was open and had power, so we went to a place known for its soups, perfect for the weather. <br />
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When we left lunch around 12:30pm, the wind had definitely picked up and it was now raining pretty hard. We walked about 5 minutes back to Peter's apartment and went straight to the big windows to get the larger view. I was surprised to see how close the clouds were to the buildings, and it looked like they were coming right at us. We heard that the wind was traveling about 75-80 miles an hour, and saw on the news that a crane on one of the buildings 20 blocks south of us had snapped in half, dangling precariously off the top of a high rise condo. As the news anchor was outside explaining the situation, the windows in the car next to her suddenly shattered from the wind. My mind tried to register that the wind was really that strong, and I looked at the floor to ceiling windows in our apartment with a bit more trepidation. <br />
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At about 2pm, Dez needed to take a nap, so we all went to our separate rooms to rest a bit. I couldn't get myself to sleep at all. I kept looking out the window, watching the clouds begin to snake through the buildings and whip around the patio furniture on the rooftops. The clouds were so thick that they would cover the visibility of the buildings as it got closer. I could no longer see the World Trade Center towers anymore or New Jersey, and my view of the city was cut in half. That's when it suddenly occurred to me that I might not make it out of New York. That thought began to spiral into a storm of its own, picking up speed with questions about what my kids would do without me, how I would say good-bye to the people I love, if I had lived my life to the fullest, what would death actually look like if the storm broke this building in half and my body went flying out in the streets of NY. . .<br />
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In tears, I prayed to God to help me with my fear, and He did. I felt Him say to me, "I am bigger than this storm." I smiled when I realized that was true; He IS bigger than this storm! There was no need to bargain for my life, "If you get me out of this, I will commit to ____." If He wanted me to be in this storm, He would be the one to take me out of it, in His way, in His time, in His power. In my heart, I came to terms with the fact that I'd be going home: either to my heavenly home or to my earthly one. I didn't need to fear because I knew where I was headed and my hope rests in the One who created my life and can take it away.<br />
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From that point on, I looked at the storm in awe and wonder, not with fear. I saw it as a testament of God's incredible power and strength, and it allowed me to worship Him through the storm. I remembered the famous line in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe where Mr. Beaver answers little Lucy's question about the King of Narnia, Aslan. She asks if he's safe, and he replies, "Safe? Who said anything about safe? But he's good." I thanked God that He is good, all the time, and that if these were indeed my final hours, I was grateful to be with my brothers, sister-in-law, and nephew, in this 3-bedroom apartment in NYC all to ourselves, with the wide views to see His awesome handiwork in the sky. I could feel His presence with me, more than I had ever before.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-59448327380736277792012-11-01T23:49:00.003-05:002012-11-04T01:31:49.108-06:00The Trip Out of Frankenstorm- Part 1 (Change of plans)Saturday (Oct. 27th) was spent sightseeing in Philly, catching up with my cousins (who are really like my brothers and sisters), and celebrating my cousin Aaron's wedding that evening. The entire day was beautiful outside, and there was talk of the impending storm as the night drew to a close. Most of my family had purchased tickets for flights out in the morning, but because I rarely saw my brothers in NY, I had purchased a ticket that left La Guardia at 7pm so I could make the most of the day in the Big Apple with them.<br />
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On Sunday (Oct. 28th), Hurricane Sandy was already on its way; you could see the dark clouds beginning to gather, and though my parents' flights to Chicago were delayed, they left NY successfully later that afternoon. At about 2pm, I got a phone call that my flight had been canceled due to the weather conditions and I needed to call back to reschedule. (My flight was connecting in North Carolina where the storm was expected to hit first.) The hard part was that over 6,800 flights were being canceled all over the East Coast due to "Frankenstorm," so trying to get a live person was at least an hour wait on the phone.<br />
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We rebooked my flight for Monday evening, pending the weather. My brother Peter said I could stay with him in his 3-bedroom apartment in Midtown Manhattan (31st and 7th) since his roommates were on vacation in Europe. Perfect! Once I called my husband to let him know what was going on and canceled all my piano lessons for Monday, I embraced this unexpected change in plans and was excited to spend more time with Peter. A few hours later, my brother Ken found out that his building in Battery Park City was under mandatory evacuation because of its proximity to the water and potential flooding. Peter graciously offered to have Ken, his wife Angie, and son Dez stay with him too for the evening since they had to leave their place for the night.<br />
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We all did a little grocery shopping before getting together that night, and the lines at Duane Reade, CVS, Whole Foods, and other stores were snaking out into the streets as people were preparing for the worst. While at CVS, we picked up water, fruit, nuts, breakfast bars, and of course some wine. I also purchased Halloween plates and napkins to appropriately commemorate Frankenstorm's arrival!<br />
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The weather really wasn't bad that night, just a little cloudy and rainy, so we ended up eating out in Koreatown in case we had to be holed up the next day. We lightly discussed our stages of survival in terms of food: 1) eat out as much as we can before the storm hits too hard, 2) if forced to stay indoors, eat the planned menu for the next day 3) if forced to stay inside for several days and all our groceries run out, raid the roommates' pantry stash 4) if desperate with no food left, break into Cafe R (like a mini-Whole Foods) located next door to Peter's apartment!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-71655071924320575652012-10-30T00:30:00.000-05:002012-11-01T23:28:43.259-05:00The Trip In (Friday Oct. 26th)<style>
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</style>Right
now, I'm sitting on the 51st floor of my brother Peter's apartment in
Manhattan, waiting for Hurricane Sandy to make her appearance. It's
Monday morning, Oct. 29th, and typically at 7:00am I am getting my girls ready
for school, packing lunches, making breakfast, etc. Instead of running
around like I normally do, I am forced to just sit and wait, so I've decided to
document this weekend's travel events in hopes that when I return to Dallas on
Wednesday (Halloween), I will win a prize for the craziest trip
ever.<br />
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<br /></div>
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I
had a master plan of how Friday, Oct. 26th was going to turn out. I
bought a ticket through US Airways (first mistake!) that took me to PA where I
was to meet the rest of my siblings and extended family for my cousin Aaron's
wedding in Philly. I arrived in Philly at 3pm, but my luggage did
not. It went to NY (another long story), and because I needed that
luggage for the evening, I had to retrieve it myself. Rather than getting
off in Philly to hang out with everyone, I flew to NY. I arrived there at
about 6pm and got my luggage, breathing a sigh of relief. Now the trick
was how to get back to Philly in rush hour traffic!</div>
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I
called my brother Peter who lives in Manhattan and he chose to have me take
public transportation since I arrived at the worst possible time in NYC.
These were his exact instructions, <span class="usercontent">"Take the Q33
Bus to the Jackson-Roosevelt train station then transfer to the E train (blue)
going downtown to the World Trade Center, get off at 42nd street/Port Authority
Bus stop. Pick up the Greyhound there."</span></div>
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<span class="usercontent">Really? I live in Frisco, TX, which means that almost
everything I need is located off of one main road- Preston. And I can
drive anywhere in one car, by myself, with my Google Maps if necessary. This
was going to be a huge challenge, and I started to panic a little more when I saw
that my phone was dying and thought, "Hope it's just the phone and not
me!!"</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="usercontent">I headed out of the airport and followed a mass of people
outside who all looked like they knew exactly what they were doing. I
watched several buses go by and had no idea which ones they were until I saw
one that said "M60" with flashing lights on the front window.
Then I realized that I had to be looking for the flashing letters and numbers
on the buses- hello!! Q33 finally arrived and I got on. I had asked
a stranger right before how much the bus was, and he said "$2.25", so
I had my bills and a quarter ready to go. When I tried to put it into the
box next to the bus driver, he said I had to have exact change in coins only. I must
have looked like I was going to cry because then he quickly said, “Don’t worry
about it, just get on.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who said
New Yorkers weren’t nice?</span></div>
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<span class="usercontent">Once on the bus, I began to frantically write down Peter’s
instructions on paper so that I would have them in case I completely lost power
on my phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called him briefly
to say that I was on the bus, and he reminded me that the Greyhound left
promptly at 8, so I needed to try to purchase my ticket online first and do my
best to get there quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
about 6:45pm.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="usercontent">I used up the rest of my power on the phone to buy my bus
ticket online, and then asked the lady next to me how to get to the
subway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiled and said, “The
bus takes you right there at your next stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll be fine.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Again, a sweet New Yorker!</span></div>
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<span class="usercontent">I arrived at Jackson-Roosevelt, walked down into the subway
station, purchased my Metro ticket, and tried to find the E train (Blue) going
downtown to the World Trade Center.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were 2 E trains and lots of other letters in the subway
station!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a train was
approaching, I asked the guy next to me, “Is this the E train to the World
Trade Center?” and he practically shouted, “No!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This one goes to Queens!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Run up the stairs, go across to the other side and get on
the E train going to Manhattan!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thank you, random commuter, for saving me from going the wrong
direction!</span></div>
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<span class="usercontent">Hurried onto the correct train and arrived at 42<sup>nd</sup>
street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was 7:20pm and I was
starving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had hardly eaten
breakfast since I was at school by 8am that morning for an assembly, and then
had driven from there to the airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I hadn’t eaten lunch since I expected to hang out with my family and eat
at the hotel in Philly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were a few places to pick up a bite to eat at the Port Authority
stop, but I wanted to secure my bus ticket first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I expected it would take about 10 minutes to get my ticket
and then I could eat while I waited to leave at 8pm.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span class="usercontent">Instead, I waited in line for 30 minutes to pick up my bus
ticket from will call, and then walked to the end of a massive line waiting for
Gate 68 to Philly a little before 8pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew it would be a long night, but I was relieved to finally be at the
bus stop, proud of the fact that I actually made it there in one piece and on
time!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Philly was only a 2-hour
ride away now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I waited, and
waited, and waited, and finally at 8:30pm I asked the people next to me if they
knew why weren’t moving at all in the line or getting on the bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had no idea either, so I asked
someone to save my place in line so I could go to the front and ask what was
going on.</span></div>
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<span class="usercontent">Guess what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
people at the front of the line were waiting for the 6:00pm bus and had been
there for 3 hours!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
heard this news, my stomach fell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I just couldn’t believe that there was now a 3-hour delay at the bus,
which meant I’d be waiting another 5 hours to get to Philly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to scream!</span></div>
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<span class="usercontent">I came back to my place in line and explained to everyone
around me what was going on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
people just left right away, some stayed, but one young guy suggested, “You
know, we could probably take the Amtrak train and get there quicker than
waiting for the Greyhound.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I
went with option #3 and followed New York angel Mike to the Amtrak.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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We
took the Amtrak to Trenton, New Jersey, then transferred to another train going to
Philly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We arrived in Philly at
11:30pm and Mike made sure I got dropped off right to the Courtyard
Marriott.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thanked him for saving
my weekend and he said he was glad to help; he was on his way 2 blocks down for
a medical student reunion so it was no trouble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These New Yorkers are amazing!</div>
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When
I got to my hotel room, I took out all my ticket stubs from the day and
marveled at the sheer number; I had literally taken almost every possible mode
of transportation offered in NY: cab, city bus, train, Amtrak, and
airplane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing I didn’t
take was the ferry!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I closed my
eyes to sleep, I thought, “I’m sure the trip out will be much smoother.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little did I know what was in store. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-46600275602084979012012-09-15T01:54:00.001-05:002012-09-15T08:35:19.359-05:00From Fu Manchu to Gangnam Style!Something crazy is brewing out there, and it's called "Gangnam Style" written by South Korean pop star Psy. ("Gangnam" means "Korean.") The song is sung/rapped entirely in Korean, and yet it has hit #1 on the iTunes charts this week, above Taylor Swift's "Never Ever Getting Back Together." Psy's music video has had over 120 million hits on youtube, he's been on air with Ryan Seacrest, and he was most recently on Ellen DeGeneres' show teaching Britney Spears how to dance gangam-style!<br />
<br />
When my girls saw Psy's performance on the Today Show on NBC, they were cheering and immediately started dancing to the infectious beat. My 2 younger brothers got special seats for the taping of the show, so they were part of the NY city crowd that went wild, singing and dancing along with Psy. I watched in disbelief. My brain was trying to process the fact that Psy is a celebrity. And he's Korean. And he's rapping in Korean. And Al Roker is dancing to Korean rap music.<br />
<br />
What my girls don't realize is how much American pop culture has changed in its portrayal of Asians. When I was growing up, we had no cool Asian rappers or dancers. We had white guy Mickey Rooney playing I.Y. Yunioshi with his gross buck teeth, greasy black hair, and a massively heavy accent. And remember Sixteen Candles and the hot mess of Long Duk Dong's pitiful character saying, "What's-a happenin, hot stuff?" Later Jackie Chan entered the picture and sealed into the psyche of our culture that all Asian men are martial arts experts. At least it bumped up the image a notch from before, but it was still a caricature of sorts.<br />
<br />
Now we have Psy, a regular Joe from South Korea (whose real name is Jason Park), dancing in a colorful suit, bow-tie, cheesy sunglasses, and the crowd loves him. His music video shows him dancing with older Korean men and women on a bus, with other younger guys in slick suits, and obviously with "yuh-jahs" (girls). He is making a crossover in generations, as well as in culture. Korean culture is more mainstream and popular than it has ever been in the US, and it's the real deal- no white actors, no random karate-chop moves, no one-sided figures. Thanks to Psy and Gangnam-Style, I might even dare say now it's almost cool to be Asian- gasp!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-59872342738836405952012-09-03T23:29:00.002-05:002012-09-03T23:38:12.225-05:00Power of FriendshipIn the last week, I have been struck by the sweetness of friendship. I lost a friend, but in my grief, I was inundated by old and new friends with sincere concern over my well being in the form of hugs, messages, texts, and prayers. I heard from people I hadn't spoken with in years due to miles and busy schedules, I reconnected with old college friends who were able to pick up right where we left off 15 years ago, and I felt so much love from everyone who reached out to me with the simplest of gestures, people who never even knew Gloria, but felt my pain in losing her. No one can really explain the power of friendship, but I can testify that when you have a friend, you have a beautiful gift that transcends the temporal and tastes the eternal. I think that's why I cried so much during Gloria's memorial services and felt such a strange mixture of sadness and joy; it was so hard to say good-bye, but it was inspiring to see the magnitude of her friendships in this life. Losing her made me realize that my friendships are worth the investment of time, even when it feels like I don't have enough. I told one of my old Northwestern friends that hanging out again was like opening a gift that had been on the shelf for 15 years; what took me so long to unwrap it and enjoy it?<br />
<br />
My old church while I was in college, Evanston Bible Fellowship, had a 25-year Anniversary celebration this past weekend. Todd and I were unable to attend, (sadly missing it by only a few days of being in Chicago for Gloria's memorial), but we got to hear from other friends how amazing it was to see each other after decades of being apart in different states and in different stages of life. These are the people that we did life with during college and our first few years of marriage; our relationship and spiritual growth was greatly impacted by Pastor Martin McCorkle and his leadership at EBF. We truly would not be the people we are today without his sermons, his friendship, and his shepherding of this church. All past and present EBF-ers were able to get together this weekend to reminisce, worship, laugh, cry, and enjoy each other's company again. Knowing many of them, I have no doubt it was a great party! One friend who attended shared a quote that resonates with me so much right now:<br />
<br />
<i>"In friendship. . . we think we have chosen our peers. In reality, a few years' difference in the dates of our births, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another. . . the accident of a topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting--any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking, no chances. A secret master of ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples, "You have not chosen me but I have chosen you," can truly say to every group of Christian friends, "You have not chosen one another, but I have chosen you for one another." The friendship is not a reward for our discriminating and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each of us the beauties of others."</i><br />
<i>-- C.S. Lewis</i><br />
<br />
I love the idea that God chooses the people He wants us to know in this lifetime, and I am eternally grateful for His choices for me in all the different stages of my life! <br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-54331203302183858162012-08-31T00:18:00.001-05:002012-08-31T21:32:03.240-05:00Gloria's Memorial- Part 3During the service, my eyes kept watching Kelissa. I wondered what her 3-year-old mind was thinking. Did she know why all these people were gathered? Was she happy to see the pictures of her mom on the screen? Did she understand why everyone was crying?<br />
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The service lasted about 2 hours, and it was hard for her stay in her seat that long, understandably. She left with April a few times to get some energy out. 6-month-old Karinna would cry intermittently throughout the service, and she was cradled back to sleep by relatives. Every time baby Karinna cried, I cried too. Karinna is a miracle baby, born prematurely in order that both she and Gloria could live. Gloria was diagnosed during her pregnancy with progressive fibrosis, a lung disease that required a lung transplant. Gloria continued to get worse, but Karinna began to get better. Gloria would visit the NICU daily to see her daughter, talk to her, pray for her, touch her little hand. You can tell Karinna's lungs are healthy; her cries were unmistakeable and piercing, and it hurt my heart that she would never know in person the woman who gave herself completely to love her back to health.<br />
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The service concluded with a home video of Kelissa singing to her parents, "This is the day, this is the day, this is the day that the Lord has made. . . I will rejoice and be glad in it!" After she finishes, she confidently takes a bow and says, "Thank you, thank you." Kelissa is a performer and loves to make people laugh, just like her mommy.<br />
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My eyes were fixed on Gloria's mom at the end of the service when people were lining up to pay their respect to the family. I couldn't hold back the tears to witness so many of her friends coming through the line, torn up about their friend losing a daughter, giving desperate hugs that held so much love and sympathy. Her face was a stream of unending tears. She lost her baby, her only daughter, and a wonderful friend. I remember that Gloria's relationship with her mom was very close. In college, Gloria told me that her mom was diagnosed with lupus. She had seen her mom looking at herself in the mirror, touching her face with concern over the changes created by the lupus, and it made Gloria so sad for her mom that she would cry talking about it with me. That was Gloria's heart; she felt others' pain like it was her own.<br />
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When it was my turn to come up to greet the family, I gave Chad a big hug; I don't remember what I said, if anything. I shook Mr. Hsu's hand; he was being so strong for his family and had a sweet smile on his face for everyone who came by. I wasn't sure if Gloria's mom would remember me since I hadn't seen her for 15 years, but she did and said in a surprised tone, "Tammy!" I hugged her really tightly and told her I loved Gloria so much. Through tears, I gave hugs to Steve and his pregnant wife, and Simon and his pregnant wife too. Though it grieves me to know these babies won't meet their Aunt Gloria, I am grateful that the Hsu family will have a season of joy as they welcome these new little ones into their lives soon.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-26933151494713287812012-08-29T18:24:00.000-05:002012-08-31T21:34:21.813-05:00Gloria's Memorial Service- Part 2After Chad's eulogy, 3 people also shared about Gloria: Sora Yoon (one of Gloria's good friends from church), Steve Hsu (Gloria's oldest brother), and April Clark (Gloria's best friend). Sora talked about how she and Gloria were restaurant buddies, enjoying places all over town, especially Bob Chinn's (since Gloria LOVED crab). They would talk about Lost (which I agree is THE best TV series of all time), they shared perspectives on marriage, and they texted each other constantly. <br />
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Steve shared stories as Gloria's brother, explaining her tomboyish tendencies as a result of the fact that he and Simon always played basketball, soccer, baseball, and every other outdoorsy sport with their younger sister. Gloria told Steve that she appreciated when he would come over to tickle Kelissa or wrestle around with her since she couldn't do it with her RA. One of Steve's vivid memories of Gloria in her final days was watching her play with Kelissa, pretending to run away from her while she dragged her oxygen tank along. Gloria was so dedicated to her girls, trying to do everything she possibly could with them, despite her physical limitations. <br />
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April's eulogy was an inspiration; hearing her friendship with Gloria made me laugh, cry, and mourn her loss even more. You can read April's eulogy here: http://www.facebook.com/notes/april-elaine-clark/bye-for-now-glo/10151144612049697<br />
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Next, her brother Simon Hsu read from John 11:17-44, and the pastor of their church NCPC (New Community Presbyterian Church), Brad Paik, gave a message about hope after death. I was expecting a typical sermon on the theology of the resurrection, but what surprised me is that Pastor Brad began by confessing he was angry at God. He shared that he hadn't really cried when Gloria passed because of his anger towards God for taking her. He didn't want Gloria to die; he wanted God to heal her. Pastor Brad admitted though, that after hearing Chad talk in his eulogy about trusting God and worshipping Him simply because He is God, no matter what our circumstances, he began to weep uncontrollably. He was humbled by the faith of both Chad and Gloria in their trials, and said that he was standing there speaking that night not as someone who knows how to comfort us in dealing with Gloria's death, but as someone who is struggling to let Gloria go just as much as each of us are, asking God to comfort him as well. </div>
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One of my favorite stories that Pastor Brad shared was Gloria's process of joining the staff at NCPC. She was working part-time at the church and also teaching at Walter Payton College Prep, but she felt that God was asking her to join the church full-time as a worship pastor. She was still single, and her mom had said that it was possible if she decided to work for the church, that she may never get married. This didn't sit well with her because she had always dreamed of getting married and having children, so she didn't want to give that up. She also loved her job teaching high school and found great joy interacting with her students. She and Pastor Brad prayed and talked over her conflict, and he said that during that whole conversation, they both had no idea that her future husband was literally 6 feet away working on staff as the Community pastor at the church! Gloria joined staff in faith that God would provide a husband for her, and He did!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-14183245453946832872012-08-28T22:24:00.001-05:002012-08-29T09:35:37.434-05:00Gloria's Memorial Service- Part 1<div>
It took nothing short of a miracle for our college friends to get to Northbrook, IL on Sunday night, Aug. 26th 2012 for Gloria Hsu Pirotte's memorial service. Flights had to be rearranged, vacations cut short, first days of school plans changed, sacrifices made by all. I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it happen either until a friend of mine generously covered my flight from Dallas to Chicago. God provided a way for me to go, and I was grateful beyond words to be able to attend. </div>
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Despite the steady downpour of rain that entire night, it was standing room only at her memorial service. Collages of her pictures were displayed in the foyer of the church, and everyone received a CD of songs written and performed by Gloria.</div>
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When I walked into the sanctuary, I was struck by a strange feeling, a mix of beauty and dread. I realized the last time I saw Gloria was in a church, 6 years ago, on her wedding day. As I perused the crowd and recognized so many familiar faces, I wondered if I was entering a season where I'd be attending more funerals than weddings.<br />
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When I saw the casket, I broke down. I couldn't believe Gloria's body was really confined to that wooden box. Sweet, funny, wonderful Gloria. This is the first funeral I'd attended for a friend my age, (she was only a few days shy of her 36th birthday), and I was not prepared for all the tears that flowed out of me from somewhere so deep inside. </div>
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Before the service began, there was a slideshow of pictures of Gloria in her college days, with her church friends, with her students, on her wedding day, her family, their vacations, the birth of Kelissa and Karinna, and a few of her in a hospital bed with the oxygen tubes in her nose. It was completely silent in the chapel for almost the entirety of the video, except for some chuckling at one precious picture of a pregnant Gloria standing next to Kelissa, who was pushing out her stomach to match her mommy, and Chad who was on the other side of Gloria, pushing his belly out to match the rest of his family!</div>
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Chad began the service with a eulogy. He talked about how he fell in love with this girl whose heart was so pure and simple, who did not hold on to material possessions, who was extraordinarily intelligent, receiving a perfect score on her GRE and almost perfect on her SAT, but did not pride herself in her musical talent and accomplishments, like earning her BA in English and Psychology from Northwestern, her MA in Education from Harvard, and teaching English at Walter Payton College Prep, one of the best high schools in the nation. Instead, she was content in a modest home, with her T-shirt and jeans, and drove a car that was dented with hail because the other one was stolen. He had only seen her wear makeup twice; once as his bride and another time as a bridesmaid. You would never guess from looking at her that she was probably one of the smartest people you'd ever met! He said all of this made her so beautiful to him. </div>
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One of the things that Chad loved about Gloria was her voice; she sang all the time, to him, to the girls, to herself, to God. She would play the piano while he worked, and he said it helped him to focus. He was also amazed at her ability to disappear while she led worship at their church; she made sure that all eyes were on Christ, not her. He smiled when he said that the reason their church was small was not due to Gloria's worship leading but their pastor's preaching! (The pastor later came up to speak and amicably agreed with Chad's assessment).</div>
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Chad shared about the secret pain that Gloria had endured because of her rheumatoid arthritis. They had to train Kelissa not to shut doors because Gloria could no longer turn a doorknob. She felt guilty because she couldn't rough house with Kelissa or carry her newborn like other moms. Chad read a couple excerpts from her journal where she was brutally honest with God about her RA, writing a list of every part of her body that hurt and sharing her fear that she may no longer be able to do the thing that she loved most: lead others in worship through her music. She was confused; was God upset with her? Did she misunderstand her calling? Didn't He know how much she wanted to serve Him in this capacity? Why were things getting worse? Didn't He want to use her anymore?</div>
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She was also concerned about sharing her pain with others because she did not want God's name to be defamed if He chose not answer their prayers in the way that they wanted. She knew that she would worship God whether He healed her on this side of Heaven or not, but she feared being the cause of hurting someone's faith if they prayed for her healing and it was not granted. </div>
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As Gloria was entering her final days, she and Chad had to talk about the memorial service. Gloria, in her typical lighthearted manner, suggested that it would be funny if they presented a half-open casket with only the bottom half open instead of the top half! (Chad said that obviously the family chose to keep it closed for the solemnity of the service, but they let Gloria be dressed in her favorite outfit: her PJ pants and her Northwestern sweatshirt.)</div>
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Gloria did want to pick out the songs that she wanted to be sung during the service. One of them was the hymn "In Christ Alone," with lyrics that end, "No guilt in life, no fear in death, This is the power of Christ in me. From life's first cry, to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny. No power of hell, no scheme of man, can ever pluck me from His hand. Till He returns, or calls me home, here in the power of Christ I stand." Not a dry eye in the house when we all sang that together.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-73356417674625463202012-08-20T23:45:00.000-05:002012-08-30T01:03:58.204-05:00Gloria<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This
week my friend Gloria Hsu Pirotte is going to meet her Maker on her 36th
birthday. She is a wife and mother of 2 little girls (ages 3 and 6
months), and she celebrated her 6th wedding anniversary this year. She has
suffered through months of a deadly lung disease that causes progressive
scarring of lung tissue and inhibits her from getting enough oxygen to breathe,
and the doctors have now said that there is nothing else they can do for her. It
just doesn't seem possible that this energetic, outgoing college girl that I
know and love is dying from having trouble breathing, sedated on a hospital bed
with an oxygen tank and kidney dialysis. I can't wrap my head around it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Gloria
was a force to be reckoned with. I first met her at Northwestern
University when my friends and I were leading a Bible Study with Campus
Crusade, now called Cru. I was just learning to play the guitar, so I
brought it to the first meeting to play a few praise songs with the group. Gloria
sang beautifully along with the rest of the girls. Afterwards, she said
to me, "Oh, by the way, I play the guitar too, so if you want, I could
lead some songs next time." I gladly passed her my guitar, and guess
what? She was a rock star!! The girl plays like John Mayer, no
kidding. I couldn't believe how ridiculous I must have looked picking
through a few bar chords while she was able to shred the strings! But
Gloria never made a big deal out of her incredible talent; she just did it for
the sheer joy of playing and using her gifts for worship. (Gloria did not like drawing attention to herself. Even when she was accepted to Harvard for graduate school, she would just tell people that she was going to a school "near Boston." She never wanted people to feel that she was inaccessible, even though she was incredibly intelligent and talented.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gloria and I soon became very
close friends. We had lunch in the cafeteria all the time, she came over
to my dorm room to "study," and we spent hours upon hours in what we
called "Tammy Time." We talked about our past, our hurts, our
problems, our dreams, our joys. She wanted to be Amy Grant and I wanted
to be Linda Hamilton. We both drooled over Brad Pitt. Her last name was Hsu and mine was Suh so we would argue about whose was incorrectly spelled. We began signing our names as Hsu(h) or Suh(su). We attended Cru meetings together and would hang out talking by the rocks on Lake Michigan, or at the Norris Student Center, where it seemed Gloria knew everyone. I mean, everyone!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gloria was such a people person that she couldn't do anything without people, especially study. I once dared her to spend 2 hours in a room alone to see if she would actually get some studying done. We went to the McCormick Engineering building and found 2 empty classrooms. I left her in one, and I went to the other. I loved studying in peace and quiet, so after the 2 hours, feeling satisfied with some work done, I packed up my stuff and went to find her. When I opened the door, I burst out laughing. She had sprawled out everything on the table and had her head on the desk, snoring. She had barely read 2 pages in her Biology text but had done a lot of doodling in her notebook, especially making those G's with a smile that she loved to sign her name with!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gloria was always smiling and laughing. I can still hear her laugh. She would make this face right before she laughed, where her eyes twitched, her nostrils flared, and her cheeks looked like they were about to burst. Anytime she made that face, it was infectious! And she was always jumping around too- never just walking. She had so much energy that she couldn't just take a few steps; she was practically galloping to class at times.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gloria and I didn't see eye-to-eye on one thing; clothing. Even though I was highly unattractive in my college days (chunky, terrible clothes, bad skin, no makeup), I still tried to dress up sometimes and be girly. Glo? NO way would you catch her in a skirt. She was always in a hat, t-shirt, and jeans. Her favorite outfit was her overalls; she constantly tried to convince me to get a pair and I was appalled, as if it would ruin the purity of my baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirts. I do remember that I was leaving my dorm one Sunday afternoon and out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Gloria walking home in a skirt and heels! She didn't see me as she was looking for her keys to enter the building, so I quickly ran up to her and said, "And just WHERE do you think you're going in that skirt?" She literally let out a shriek and slammed the door on me!! I called her room from the dorm phone 20 times until she finally picked up and confessed that yes, she sometimes gets dressed up for church when she plays the piano there! I told her that now that I'd seen her in a skirt, she MUST wear a dress on her wedding day. She said, "No way, I'll be the first to wear a cool set of Bridal overalls!!" (Of course, I was pleasantly surprised to see her in a beautiful dress on her wedding day, but I have to admit I was curious to see if those overalls would show up. . .)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the things we liked to do most was sing/play worship music. We both played on the worship team for Cru (Glo on guitar, I was on keys or violin), but we could also just sit in a room listening to music and be worshipping together- loudly in our hearts. The soundtrack of that time was lots of Jars of Clay, Rich Mullins, Amy Grant, Steven Curtis Chapman, and songs from the Vineyard church. One year we worked together on the Concert of Prayer at NU, where all the different campus ministries unite for an evening of worship music and prayer. I still remember us picking out the songs together, rehearsing, hauling all the equipment across campus, exhausting ourselves in the night of worship, and hanging out afterwards, having the time of our lives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gloria was serious about God. She loved the Word and it bothered her when she wasn't centered around it. Her sin bothered her too; she asked me to point out to her when she wasn't right with God, and I remember having some tough conversations where we both spoke truth into each other's lives. It was really an iron-sharpening-iron relationship, and it is a rare gift to have someone like that in life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gloria and I slowly grew apart after I got married. I moved off campus and started my student teaching, and we didn't see each other like we used to. I was only 21, and I didn't know how to manage my relationships well. I thought that I was supposed to spend my time developing new friendships as a couple with my husband, and I didn't know how to keep the girlfriends that I had made on my own. I do regret that time where I let my friendships fade, especially with Gloria. She had such a profound impact on me as a person, and when I think back to my college days, they are filled with memories of her. I am thankful that I knew her for that slice of time in my life, and I consider it a privilege that we were so close during those years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So with much love and gratitude, I say good-bye to a dear friend who taught me to love deeply, live humbly, and laugh loudly. She is one-of-a-kind, and I know that her impact on people is more far-reaching than we can even grasp. This girl lived her life to the fullest, with the glory of God at the forefront of her heart and soul. She embodies "Soli Deo Gloria"- glory to God alone! I love you Gloria, and I look forward to the day I will see you again!</span></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2977698411712201484.post-68550173277977895262012-08-03T00:19:00.000-05:002012-08-03T08:57:09.912-05:00Confessions of a TwinkieI've asked God a million times why I was born Asian. I hated growing up with my darker features in a sea of beautiful blond, blue-eyed friends. My mom said that I used to sit in front of the mirror as a 5-year-old trying to stretch my eyes open to make them look like everyone else's. Pitiful, I know.<br />
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Embracing my ethnicity meant that I had to embrace being different. There was too much pain associated with my culture that I couldn't fully allow myself to celebrate who God created on the outside. Through the years, I assimilated as best as I could, making lots of Caucasian friends, refusing to speak Korean, trying to avoid the older Asian folks that stare at you and follow you around wherever you are to see if you're related to them. (My Asian friends know EXACTLY what I'm talking about!)</div>
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When my oldest daughter started kindergarten, the school hosted a Multicultural Night to celebrate the diverse demographic of the school. I told her we were not participating; what was there to celebrate? But the more she asked me about it, the more I was confronted with my own strange self-hatred. Why couldn't I celebrate being Korean? Why was she so proud of it? Would I let my painful memories of discrimination in the past keep my own children from embracing who they are?</div>
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I decided to put together a little display and participate in the Multicultural Night representing South Korea, just to appease my daughter. She loved every minute of it, and there was true joy and pride in her eyes as she wore the traditional Korean han-bok that night in front of her teachers and friends. As I watched her glowing with excitement, I realized that God was going to use my beautiful half-Korean, half-German daughter to finally change the way I saw myself.</div>
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This year I was asked to help our school celebrate its cultural diversity and come up with ideas on how to make our school more inclusive, representing its changing demographic. My initial thought (which I kept to myself) was, "NO WAY!! Don't you know I'm a white girl inside???" But instead, I politely said I'd think about it. And I did- I prayed hard about it too. I really felt a struggle because I knew if I opened this door, I was going to have to deal with my own junk. But you know what? It's time. I'm 36 years old; I need to stop shaking my fist at God asking Him why He made me the way He did, and start seeing myself as a beautiful creation, not in spite of my ethnicity, but because of it.</div>
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I attended my first PTA Leadership conference in Austin, TX last weekend and looked for another Asian in the crowd of hundreds of representatives from across the state. Not one. I realized that there is a huge lack of participation from the East Asians, South Asians, and Europeans in the PTA for various reasons discussed during break-out sessions. What better way to encourage them to be an integral part of the school family than to volunteer as a representative myself? I know how it feels to be the outsider, the one who doesn't fit in, whose broken English prohibits interaction with others. And then it suddenly struck me- if it weren't for the way I looked, I might not have as much of an impact in this role! It may be that my darker features make others like me feel more at ease to get connected, finding their unique place to serve in the school. It's taken a long time to get to this place of being comfortable in my own skin, but I am grateful to have found a measure of acceptance that I never thought I'd have. I'm still a twinkie: white on the inside, but I no longer hate the yellow on the outside! </div>
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