FamiLee Life

Ann Tyler's Digging to America

I came across a Washington Post book review for Ann Tyler's new book, Digging to America. You can read Chapter One by clicking here.

In an interesting twist of the usual Korean adoption story, this work of fiction follows two American couples (one White and the other Iranian) as they navigate adoption and culture at the start of the 21st century. I have not read the book, but have liked past Ann Tyler novels, so I think I will grab a copy when I walk by a bookstore.

If anyone reads this book first, let me know what you think.

Here are some other book reviews that I pulled off the Amazon website....

From Publishers Weekly
Tyler (Breathing Lessons) encompasses the collision of cultures without losing her sharp focus on the daily dramas of modern family life in her 17th novel. When Bitsy and Brad Donaldson and Sami and Ziba Yazdan both adopt Korean infant girls, their chance encounter at the Baltimore airport the day their daughters arrive marks the start of a long, intense if sometimes awkward friendship. Sami's mother, Maryam Yazdan, who carefully preserves her exotic "outsiderness" despite having emigrated from Iran almost 40 years earlier, is frequently perplexed by her son and daughter-in-law's ongoing relationship with the loud, opinionated, unapologetically American Donaldsons. When Bitsy's recently widowed father, Dave, endearingly falls in love with Maryam, she must come to terms with what it means to be part of a culture and a country. Stretching from the babies' arrival in 1997 until 2004, the novel is punctuated by each year's Arrival Party, a tradition manufactured and comically upheld by Bitsy; the annual festivities gradually reveal the families' evolving connections. Though the novel's perspective shifts among characters, Maryam is at the narrative and emotional heart of the touching, humorous story, as she reluctantly realizes that there may be a place in her heart for new friends, new loves and her new country after all. (May 9)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From Booklist
The finest novelists of psychologically acute domesticity purposefully linger over the preparation of meals and the furnishing of rooms, and often turn special occasions into crucibles for conflicts and epiphanies. A master at these time-honored techniques, Tyler extends her reach in her seventeenth novel and creates two very different households that serve as microcosms for twenty-first-century American society. The two families converge at the Baltimore airport, each nervously anticipating the arrival of an adopted Korean baby girl. Bitsy and Brad Donaldson appear to be stereotypical white middle-class Americans. The Yazdans--Ziba, Sami, and Sami's glamorous, long-widowed mother, Maryam--are Iranian Americans. Hoping that the families will stay in touch so that their daughters can grow up together, Bitsy invents Arrival Day, an annual celebration that grows increasingly elaborate each year. Ultimately, these amusingly awkward and contentious events become the gauge of their lives. Each of Tyler's endearing characters is authentically rendered, but Jin-Ho and Susan, the two diametrically opposed young girls, are standouts, as is Maryam. As the novel's reigning consciousness, she reveals what it feels like to be viewed as "exotic" or "foreign" in America before and after 9/11, and how one can become detrimentally attached to the role of outsider. Handling time with a light touch, Tyler creates many blissful moments of high emotion and keen humor while broaching hard truths about cultural differences, communication breakdowns, and family configurations. This deeply human tale of valiantly improvised lives is one of Tyler's best. Donna Seaman
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Art of the Immigrant Experience :: Ed Bok Lee

Just a quick, belated plug for my friend, Ed Bok Lee, who was interviewed today on MidMorning on MPR. Click here to listen to the audio broadcast of Ed talking about his award winning book of poetry and prose -- Real Karaoke People.

Chernobyl and Me:: 20 Years Later

It was twenty years ago today that the Chernobyl reactor exploded, releasing radioactivity hundreds and thousands of miles. For a Q&A of the event, click here. Today, they are still reinforcing the sarcophagus that was erected to surround the reactor to prevent further radioactive leakage.

Twenty years ago, for me, brings me back to my junior year of high school. I was junior class president, captain of the wrestling team, top 20 in my class of 300 or so, dating a varsity cheerleader, and soon to get kicked out of school. In a way, I was undergoing my own nuclear (family) meltdown and I had already built up my own sarcophagus.

You see, my oldest brother had dropped out of college and was soon-to-be engaged to a woman who was (gasp!) not Korean American (btw, she is now his lovely wife). My middle brother also had dropped out of college, was in/out of a hospital, and trying to figure out his life. My father had quit his job in advertising because of racism and the glass ceiling effect and was cobbling together part-time work. My mother was working two full-time jobs and trying to keep everything together. Me? I was stuck somewhere in the middle of all of this mess, trying to find my own identity and place in the world.

It was a time in our lives that I can now look back upon and say "Thank God, we made it through." It also was a time when we really grew in our lives, as individuals and as a family. Sometimes, it takes a nuclear meltdown for a family to rebuild itself up in a healthier and stronger way.

As an immigrant family, we spent the first 20 years of our lives in America just trying to make a go of it. Trying to live the American Dream, not knowing the dream was unrealistic and not really meant for folks who aren't wealthy and White. This disconnect between immigrant reality and immigrant dream added to our frustrations and exacerbated all the other acculturative issues that were purcolating to the top.

After our personal and familial chernobyl, we spent many, many years building up our sarcophagus to try to hide the pain, shame, and bitterness. Then, slowly, we started to look inward, reflecting on what had happened, what had gone wrong. We began to talk more openly with each other. We started to forgive each other. We acknowledged our pains and silently and collectively decided to make changes in our individual and familial lives.

Today, twenty years later, my father is retired and enjoying life as a painter. My eldest brother is a successful businessman and proud pappa of three wonderful children. My middle brother also is a wonderful father to a boy and a great elementary school teacher. My mom...my mom...she lived her life to the fullest and we still miss her each day. As for me, well, here I am writing this blog, reflecting with a tear in one eye and a twinkle in the other eye. Who would have thought this is where I (or any of us) would have ended up a generation later.

May the people of Ukraine find a way to accept the pain, forgive the past, and move forward with their lives.

Beer Can Chicken Test

I have blogged before about Michael Chu's website/blog called Cooking for Engineers. Earlier this month, he posted a taste test that compared chicken baked with a beer can to chicken baked with water. Check out the study which found no discernable difference. What I love about CfE is the scientific method that he uses to conduct his cooking tests.

Good Service at a Price

A few years ago, I was in a nasty car accident that left my trusty Subaru hobbled, even after repair. To make matters worse, it all came at a very difficult time in my life. The one upside to this period was the news that I was going to get tenure (yeah!). So, to remedy the string of bad luck and to celebrate my promotion, I decided to trade in my car and get something a bit nicer.

I had always dreamed of a SAAB 9-3, but this dream went away after SAAB was purchased by GM (wah!). So, I started to mull over other auto options and decided upon the Audi A4 Quattro. Given that I was not a wealthy man, I decided to buy a pre-certified vehicle which brought down the price considerably. Well, I have driven the car over 10,000 miles and I am still very happy with my choice. Of course, the car (in auto years) is still an early adolescent, so I have not had too many problems.

On Friday, I brought my car into the dealership for its annual oil change and tire rotation. I also had a rear brake light that went out, needed to fix my windshield spray nozzle (it was misaligned), and recently learned that there was a fuel pump recall on the make/model. In short, it was good timing. Because I needed to get the fuel pump replaced, it was recommended that there should be less than a quarter tank of gas in the car. I left the car overnight.

On Saturday, I picked up my washed/vacuumed car. All the repairs and tune-up had been made and I was happy to have my vehicle back. Plus, I only had to pay $20 (for the tire rotation). The oil changes and rear brake light were covered by warranty, as was the fuel pump replacement. It was a gorgeous day to boot. Sunroof and windows open, I set off onto the highway to run errands and enjoy the sunny day.

As I settled into highway driving, I looked down at my gas guage, having remembered that my fuel was low. Wait...I did a double take because the guage indicated a full tank of gas! Huh? It was then that I realized the dealership had filled up my gas tank after they replaced the fuel pump. $35+ in gas for free! I could not believe it. This made me even happier.

So, I paid $20 to get an oil change, tire rotation, car wash/vacuum, a fuel pump replacement, and $35+ in gas. What a steal (of sorts). Of course, I realize that I paid a handsome penny to purchase the car in the first place, but I was still pleased. To me, I considered it to be amazing service in a day and age where you feel like you are getting gouged for even the basic necessities.

Having worked in my parents' dry cleaning business for many years, I have really come to value good service. In my parents' store, we never charged more than our competitors, but we always made sure to provide better service. If a button on a shirt was missing, we replaced it without charge. If a stain didn't come out after a first washing, we spotted and washed it again. If a dress shirt was too small for the automated pressing machine and we had to hand iron it, we still charged the lower price. These were important lessons for me in how to treat customers and to win business.

I'm glad to see the Audi dealership believes in this same value of service... But I also realize that it's a privilege that comes with wealth.

Karaoke Battle :: Retiring a Song

Last night, the Walker Art Center hosted a Karaoke Battle as part of their Open Thursdays. Good friend Mike (aka Hapa9) served as KJ. There was a good turnout of local hipsters, teens, and random museum visitors in attendance. The first 14 folks to sign up were part of the actual competition with a 1st prize purse of a $100 certificate for the museum restaurant (20:21) run by Wolfgang Puck. (sidenote - the food there is okay but overpriced).

I arrived a bit early and was pleased to bump into CC and his adorable children. Ed, V, and Nic showed up a bit later. CC decided to sign up for the battle and I followed suit, nabbing the last of the 14 precious spots. I was ambivalent about "performing" because I was not in a super singing mood, plus I had only eaten a salad earlier in the day and was so famished that my body was shaking (okay, enough excuses). But I knew that I would perform and planned to go out in a blaze of glory.

Well, without giving a mad and lengthy rundown, neither CC nor I won (nor placed in the top 3), though CC rocked with Surrender by Cheap Trick. The applause-o-meter (an actual scientifically fancy decibel reader) served as the arbiter of audience approval. Without a large fan base and without the stage antics/gyrations/insanity, we were doomed from the start. Still, we rocked as the aged men in the competition.

For me, the Karaoke Battle served as a swan song for one of my first and most beloved karaoke songs -- Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen. After singing this song on a twice/monthly basis for nearly 2 years, I decided it was time. Like a true artist, I knew I had to let go and find new material to disassemble and remake as my own. With this in mind, I went out blazing on stage (or, at least, I was blazing in my own mind...).

Perhaps in a symbolic way, the retirement of Born to Run reflects the start of a new chapter in my life. Which song will be my anthem for the upcoming year? Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, I will be doing Spring yardwork for the weekend. Peace.

The Price of a Smile

Just got back from round 2 with the dentist. I went earlier this week for my 6-month cleaning and had to come back for some preventative work today (no cavities though!). Plus, I needed to get fitted for a new mouthguard that protects my teeth from my nightly teeth grinding, which my friend Ed is convinced is more prevalent in Koreans and explains why we have square jars (go figure).

I have always grinded my teeth, even as a kid. I knew that I had this problem as a kid because my brother Martin, with whom I shared a bedroom for most of childhood, used to tell me. Of course, he always kindly told me after I complained about his loud snoring (which required a nightly pillow beat down). For those who have experienced sleeping beside a teeth grinder, you will agree that the noise we generate can be quite...well...grinding. A bit of nashing, squeaking, chomping, and sometimes piercing.

Anyway, the mouthguard that I used to have came with a lifetime guarantee, but I have now broken two of them in 3 years! So, my dentist (probably not wanting to waste more $ on me) has suggested a custom molded one that is purportedly made of stronger plastic. Alas, the price of saving my well worn Korean teeth.

Still, I can't complain about these dentist visits. I sort of enjoy them because I went irregularly as a kid and saw it as such a privilege. Dental insurance was a luxury that we did not have growing up working class. So, we went when my mom thought it would be a good idea (translation: every few years). Now, I feel like I need to take advantage of my dental insurance. What a luxury to have clean, healthy teeth!

When Transracial/Transnational Adoption Is Turned Upside Down

International adoption is widespread and increasing in popularity. In most cases, sending countries tend to be poorer, developing nonWhite nations and receiving countries tend to be wealthier, developed White nations. In other words, children of color from poor countries almost always are adopted into White families from wealthy countries. Even adoptions from Russia and Eastern Europe often include transethnic and transracial adoptive families, as many children from Russia and Eastern Europe may be of Asian descent. I have never heard of instances in which White children were being adopted by families in Asia, Latin America, or Africa. Given the racial and geopolitical set of realities, this latter rarity is quite understandable.

However, transracial/transnational adoption has been before and is still being turned upside down. Take for instance, the fact that the good old USA is a sending country! Yes, even though we are the largest receiving country for international adoption, we also are a sending country. Specifically, family from Canada and Europe are adopting anywhere from 500-800 African American and mixed race children from the USA. Read these stories from CBS, NPR, and the Christian Science Monitor on this phenomenon.

From the CSM article..... the US is now the fourth largest "supplier" of babies for adoption to Canada. Adoption by Shepherd Care, an agency in Hollywood, Fla., places 90 percent of its African-American babies in Canada....The exact numbers are not available, but interviews with adoption agencies and families in Canada, Germany, France, and the Netherlands indicate that the US also sends babies to those four countries as well as Belgium and England. Most of the children are black newborns. Most of the adopting parents are Caucasian.

This phenomenon highlights the serious problems with race in America. It is a tricky issue for sure, but one that we really need to examine critically especially as international adoption becomes more and more popular in this country. For example, why do White parents feel more comfortable adopting a child internationally from Africa but not a Black child from Georgia? Some argue it is because a-parents do not want birthparents to reclaim the child. Others argue it is because of the long and controversial history of Black-White adoptions in this country. Still others argue that adoption from Africa seems more "humanitarian" or "exotic." The reasons are not clearly known but worthy of investigation.

Another interesting transracial/transnational adoption issue is what happens when a child is adopted internationally into a racially similar country or more commonly family. Increasingly, we are hearing about Asian American couples adopting children from China, Korea, and other parts of Asia. Do these children fare better, same, or worse than children adopted into White families? Will life be easier for these kids because they are less likely to have ethnic and racial identity struggles given that there is phenotypic similarity within the family? Will a-parents and children feel more "safe" because they can, in essence, "pass" as a bio-familiy in a society that still privileges biological, nuclear families? I believe it is too early to tell because the children are still young.

I could not find much info on this last issue of inracial but transnational adoption in the USA, but I did discover a fascinating story of Japanese orphans who were adopted into Chinese families in China after the Japanese were defeated in World War II and de-occupied China (along with Korea). Click here, here, here for links to these stories. Also, click here and here for a study on the "Japanese" personality of these Japanese orphans.

Basically, according to some accounts, over 4,000 Japanese children were orphaned following Japan's defeat in WWII. Some of the orphans knew that they were Japanese by ethnicity/nationality, but others thought they were Chinese by ethnicity and, in some cases, the biological children of their Chinese a-parents. Some children were treated as part of the family, while others were treated more poorly by their adoptive (or foster) parents in China. Others were teased by their classmates who knew they were Japanese.

According to one article, All Japanese orphans who could be identified were organized to look for their original families and relatives in Japan and were allowed to return to their homeland...Between 1981 and 2000, according to Guan Yaxin, Zhang Zhikun's colleague at the Liaoning Academy of Social Sciences, 2,121 Japanese orphans went back to Japan to look for their parents and relatives. A total of 666 of them finally found their original families. Those who failed to find their families were also allowed to settle in Japan...[Moreover] According to the Japanese Ministry of Labor, 2,476 orphans 90 percent of the total had returned to Japan by August 2004.

Of those who returned to Japan, some 40 years later, not surprisingly, most have struggled to adapt to their old/new homeland. Imagine repatriating after so long. It reminds me of the increasing number of Korean adoptees who have chosen to live in South Korea as adults, although circumstances are obviously not the same. Korean adoptees have human capital (e.g., English language skills, college education) and economic capital (savings, jobs) that make the transition easier in some instances.

Here is another interesting, albeit tangentially related, story that I have not heard much about in Asian American Studies despite its relevance to Asian Americanist history -- the placement of Japanese orphan children and infants into internment camps at a place called Children's Village during World War II. This article by a LATimes reporter reveals another dark side to WWII. Clearly, these children were a threat to national security.

Well, I am not sure where I am going with this entry today, but it is striking to examine the ways in which transracial and transnational adoption is changing and the ways in which it has transpired over history. It is not a uniform experience and it is not a one-way experience either. We have something to learn by understanding the complexities of international adoption from all geo-political sides.

Spring Is Here (...Ah...chew!)

I always know when Spring has arrived because my eyes get watery and itchy, I start sneezing with typhoon like force, and my nose gets stuffed up. Yes, I have seasonal allergies like millions upon millions of others in the world. Fortunately, I have lots of drugs to combat most of the symptoms, plus my trusty neti pot to clear out allergens that settle into my system.

A year ago, I decided to get a blood test to determine which allergens were killing me. Not surprisingly, the top 3 were cedar/juniper, grass (timothy varietal), and cats. This makes sense to me based on personal experience. Growing up and owning a few cats, I remember breaking out or getting itchy when I got a cat scratch or got cat dander in my eyes. I have since mastered the eye flush technique that requires rushing to a bathroom sink to glob water into my eye. Having spent 3 years in Austin, TX prior to moving to MN, I thought I had the flu 2-3 months out of the year until I learned that I had allergies...to cedar which should be the proxy name for Austin (if you have ever visited there and seen the coatings of yellow dust on everything). Up north, it seems that cedar and grass are the main culprits to my allergies.

Of course, I don't let allergies stop me from enjoying Spring. I still plan to run around Lake Harriett, eat ice cream (and all other dairy products despite the histimines that make symptoms worse), play golf and basketball, and have refreshing cocktails in the evenings. Heck, it's a rite of passage for me these days to suffer for a few days before I can enjoy the warmth and crispness of Spring.

I love the embrace of Spring that can be seen all around town, from the emergence of street peddlers selling fresh vegetables/fruit and fresh cut flowers to the beautiful people running around the lakes in their fashionable outfits. I cherish the chance to sit outside at the cafes, drinking ice tea, licking ice cream cones, and people watching. I find comfort in standing outside on my front lawn and being able to chat with my neighbors and watch the flowers start to bloom.

Oh, Spring...thank you for arriving...finally....ah chew.

What's In A Name :: Assimilation and Reclamation

On my drive into work today, I was listening to the band, Sun Kil Moon, on 89.3 FM. Sun Kil Moon is a band fronted by Mark Kozolek. I recently heard about this alt-style band from my friend, David, while visiting him in Chicago. We occasionally swap music to keep ourselves feeling young and hip. At any rate, the band is named after Sung Kil Moon, a former bantamweight boxing champion from South Korea. And as some of you know, I greatly enjoy the brute sport of boxing. But more intriguing to me, this morning, was the man's name. Sung Kil Moon.

Moon...Nowadays, I think of it as a very cool sounding last name. But when I was younger, I was embarrassed by the name Moon.You see, my middle name is Moon. I was quite young -- maybe 9 or 10 -- when I realized the ramifications of having an Asian sounding name. I already had been teased with songs that ridiculed Asians (ching chong chinaman) and having a middle name like Moon made me only more vulnerable to teasing. So, in my failed effort to assimilate, I used to tell classmates that my middle initial stood for Michael. I know, shameful, isn't it to have to create such a lie? Yet lie, I did.

At age 10, a kid just wants to fit in, to belong, to not stand out. Puberty is just around the corner and that is bad enough. To be different and, as such, vulnerable to exclusion is even worse. So for a few years, I became a Michael (well, my middle name at least).

But over time, like all good things, I grew to like/love my name.

I never understood why my parents gave me this middle name because my informal Korean name did not have Moon in it. So one day back in high school, I asked my mother why I had this middle name. She told me that when she was pregnant with me, my dad and she both had dreams about the moon. They felt it was a good sign, so they chose it as a middle name for me. Later, I realized that this dream might have been inspired by an event that occurred just 19 days before my birth when Neil Armstrong became the first person to walk on the moon.

So I have reclaimed my middle name. It's funny because if I had never asked my parents, I am not sure if I ever would have reclaimed it. I would not have denied it but I don't think I would have the pride that I now have.

Still, I am struck by the ease by which a White musician can choose to name his band after a South Korean and it sounds cool to the majority (Oh, that's different!). But for me, as a minority growing up in an all-White community, the same name carried such a weight of shame. Well, that folks is the privilege of Whiteness.

15 Seconds of Fame :: A Documentary on Chinese Adoptees

Over the winter, I was approached by two Korean adoptee documentary filmmakers who were making a film about Chinese adoptees and their families using the history and perspective of Korean adoptees as a lens into their own lives and futures. I found this approach to be novel and worthwhile, so I agreed to be interviewed. It was an interesting experience to be filmed. It took place in my office over a 2 or 3 hour period. I remember them fussing over my hair (it was too spikey), changing my furnishings (it was too messy), positioning books (to make me more scholarly), and asking me to repeat things over and over again because I goofed or a grad student was talking too loud in the background.

Well, many months later, they have put up some clips on the website as a preview to the documentary. Check it out at PointMade under "documentary." You will need Quicktime to view the snippets.

BC-ing You...

My beloved BC Eagles men's basketball team ended their season a few weeks ago as a Sweet 16 team and #11 national ranking. It was a tough way to end the season, though they played great. Fortunately, I get to continue to bask in reflected glory (BIRG) as BC's men's hockey team plays tonight in the NCAA frozen finals against neighboring Wisconsin.

Ugly Koreans...

I read the following Korea Times article from the IEKAS listserve. IEKAS is an electronic weekly newsletter published by the Society of Korean-American Scholars (SKAS). Recent issues are posted in SKAS.

It is interesting to watch as an outsider/insider as South Korea adjusts to the changing mores of transnationalism and globalization. The recent celebrity status of Hines Ward (Super Bowl MVP) and Toby Dawson (U.S. Olympic Skiier) also suggest that South Korea is beginning to look at itself in the mirror. For all the success and achievements of South Korea as a rising economic power, it is time to begin to examine the darker side of South Korean nationalism, including it's treatment of biracial children, adoptees and orphans, and women.

NO TO THE 'UGLY KOREANS'
------------------------------------
The Korea Times, April 5, 2006

Another case was found more recently in Shanghai. The police
arrested 17 South Koreans in February for their involvement
in a "host bar" in which men were hired for sexual services.
It was recorded the first case of foreigners being caught for
running a host bar in China.

Monk-e-Mail

This website from CareerBuilder is funny and fun! Check out Monk-e-Mail and build your own monkey email.

Happy weekend!

Subtle Changes to the New New York Times

Earlier this week, I commented on the new look of the online version of the New York Times and specifically complained that it was hard to read the baby blue font especially when section news headlines are stacked on top of one another.

Well, I noticed in today's online issue that the headlines for the World, Business, Arts sections are no longer stacked on top of one another.

I guess someone over at the Times noticed the same thing...or I have some amazing blog influence (not!).

Now if they would only change the color of the font away from baby blue. The slightly darker blue used by the Washington Post and LA Times is easier to read.

The Privileges of a Graduate Education

There is a new book out that is based on a survey study of graduate students. Michael T. Nettles and Catherine M. Millett surveyed more than 9,000 students from 21 doctorate-granting institutions and published their findings in a new book - Three Magic Letters: Getting to Ph.D.. I read a Q&A with Dr. Millett in the Chronicles of Higher Education.

The Q&A highlights some interesting findings. For example, Millett commented that "The humanities students were distinctive in the fact that they were the highest socioeconomic class of doctoral students. Doctoral students in general are of higher socioeconomic class than the general population. But humanities students had the parents who were more likely to be postbaccalaureate-trained professionals. They also came from higher-income families."

Here are a few more interesting quotes/findings...

We have found in our study that the higher the social class of students, the more likely they are to have a positive relationship with faculty in the sciences, education, and engineering.

One thing that distinguished Hispanics and blacks from other students is that they were more likely to be recipients of fellowships. On the one hand, that's really great. But the question we have to raise is whether the fellowships are constructed in such a way that gives students advantages in terms of mentoring and research productivity on the way to the degree.

When I was thinking about graduate school, I originally had planned to (gasp!) pursue a master's degree in philosophy or theology. I didn't want to become a philosopher or theologian/minister, but I was curious about these meta-physical things at the time. However, I learned two things about such programs while doing my research. One, you did not get much financial aid. Two, you had to learn a foreign language (e.g., Greek, Latin). Plus, I came to the sad realization that I also needed to make money upon graduation. So, I next thought of my other options.

I had always been interested in psychology and knew that eventually I wanted to pursue further study in it, but I was not sure of my abilities. Was I smart enough? Could I last 5 years in graduate school? With support from mentors and friends (and a bit of skeptical assurance from family), I applied to graduate schools in counseling psychology. I applied to exactly 4 doctoral programs and 2 masters programs. In the end, I was accepted by the 2 masters programs and 2 doctoral programs, but waitlisted on the other 2 doctoral programs.

I had decisions to make...sunny West coast, Midwest corn fields, or fried Southern food. Having never lived outside of New England, all three would be different experiences, so how to make a decision?

Well, it was fairly easy. In the end, two important factors played a role for me. In fact, the same factors that Nettles and Millett found in their research. One, I could not afford to go to graduate school without good financial assistance. My parents were struggling to make ends meet and I was not about to ask them for help. I also had loans already from college and was averse to accumulating more debt. Fortunately, Virginia Commonwealth University offered the most money in the form of a fellowship. Two, I found a faculty advisor whom I trusted could be a good mentor. Ironically, I was initially admitted into VCU to work with a different advisor but I had the gall to ask to switch because (quite honestly) the originally assigned advisor smoked about a pack of cigarettes a day (hack, hack) and I sense that our interpersonal styles would not match (he was too oblique and abstract for me). I needed someone who was blunt and direct and set high expectations (heck, I am an East coast boy). Fortunately for me, my eventual advisor was all these things in spades.

So, it's not surprising to me that Nettles and Millett found these same issues to be at play in the current state of graduate education. In the end, graduate school is a privilege that only a few in the world get to experience. It is not something to take for granted (though often it is). It is easier for children from wealthier families to pursue. No doubt. It also is easy to forget the responsibilities that come with such privilege.

My New Favorite Online Thing...

...is Little Radio. I stumbled upon it at the right time...just when I was needing a lift to adjust to Daylight Savings Time. As I said before, music is the opium for the soul.

A New New York Times

Did you all notice the new web design for the New York Times? At first glance, it has an appealing look but I am not sure that I am sold on its layout. I don't like the big multimedia section in the middle because it requires me to scroll down to get the section headlines for Word, Health, Education, Sports, etc. The baby blue font also makes it a bit harder to read headlines, especially when they are not highlighted and when they are stacked on top of each other. Hm...need time to adjust.

Anyway, I found the following headline from the NYTimes a bit funny.

New York City Losing Blacks, Census Shows

Where have they gone and are people looking for them with the same fervor as the missing cases of White women?