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Posts Tagged ‘family’

Thirteen years ago for Mother’s Day my wife took our two little boys to Washington DC from Seattle for the Million Mom March. She felt strongly that our country was in need of tighter gun control laws and wanted our boys (then ages 10 and 9) to be a part of the rally.

After traveling across country, she and the boys were among the some 750,000 mothers and children rallying around the Washington DC National Mall. At one point, she thought she had lost the younger son when they were separated in the mass of humanity. She later found him in the designated meeting spot much to her relief.

The convictions of Shari Song have always been that strong and obvious. She wanted our boys to grow up in a safer environment. She wanted to teach our sons that each of us has a voice in America.

Since then, the US has seen more horrific gun violence in our schools with mass killings in Columbine (Colorado), Newtown (Connecticut) and Blacksburg (Virginia). While the march itself was somewhat controversial with strong emotions on both sides of the debate, there was no doubt where our family stood at the time.

Today, we all continue to stand for tighter gun control laws. However, my older son is now a gun owner. Neither his mother nor I am happy about that but he is old enough to make his own choices. In fact, we’ve learned a few things about why people would even want to own guns. It’s always good to understand different perspectives.

He still says he is for tighter gun control including stricter background checks for gun permits. He is very safety-conscious and takes gun ownership seriously. The other son has never had any interest in guns.

For this Mother’s Day, I’d like to remember all the mothers and everything they do on our behalf, and for being so passionate about their convictions in life. They are not just nurturers, they are also role models.

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Merry Christmas everyone. Hope all of you are spending time with loved ones.
I’m fortunate enough to be spending Christmas with my extended family up at Snoqualmie Pass, watching snow falling while warm in front of a fire. I’ll be up on the slopes later today. Tonight, we’ll be enjoying a big Christmas feast for dinner.
It’s been wonderful catching up with relatives who are spread throughout the US. We’ve reflected on individual challenges of the past year, as well as the successes. We provide encouragements and support for each other over our favorite foods, drinks or just relaxing in the hot tub. I feel so energized and grounded with them. They give me strength.
I believe we humans are interconnected, and our families provide the closest connections.
Keeping that in mind, if you are not with your family for any reason, be sure to reach out to them today. Let the past be the past and the future the future. Today, connect with them and provide unconditional support. They need you as much as you need them.

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Last night, I enjoyed a home-cooked Vietnamese dinner, a day after just returning from Ho Chi Minh City. A Vietnamese-American friend visiting from San Jose prepared a wonderful meal for a group of us.

She asked a lot about my trip to Vietnam. She reminisced about growing up in Hanoi with her extended family. She described carrying heavy buckets of water to her house, with a younger sibling on her back. She remembered such times with fondness. She described how life in the US was full of modern-day conveniences, but that it could also be very cold.

People here generally live for themselves, she observed, and not for others.  Grandparents live in nursing homes, children are taught to be independent and move out of the home early in life. Siblings don’t talk for days, months and sometimes years.

She said she wants to matter to others, especially family. What good is material comfort if no one cares for you? Is good fortune that great if not shared with those whom you love?

When she first came to the US, she worked in a nail salon that was below a nursing home. So many of them never had visitors, she said. One time, an old man died and no relative came to claim the body. As the body was about to be carted out, she vividly remembers the body bag being zipped shut over his head. The sound is something she will never forget.

In Vietnam, she said, that just wouldn’t happen. People have the richness of family and relationships. People support one another and get self-worth through those relationships.

When I’ve visited Vietnam and other developing countries with fellow Americans, I’ve listened to the sympathy of pitying Westerners toward the local poor. It was interesting to hear the pitying sympathy of someone feeling the coldness of American lives.

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I had an amazing mother’s day.

My mother’s always been a people person. She has great timing with stories and jokes. She easily entertains in group settings, and is quick to laugh. Despite this, we didn’t always get along when I was a teenager. As a mother, she could be extremely demanding and my adolescence would have been any parent’s nightmare.

Those days have long passed, and last Sunday I wanted nothing more than to spend time with my mother on her terms. After a family lunch, she wanted to explore Seattle’s downtown shopping district. I volunteered to escort her around, starting with a Seattle Street Car ride from our South Lake Union condo.

We wandered into Nordstrom, where I patiently followed her through the assortment of purses, then to the women’s apparel. I gave feedback about various outfits, but we mostly talked about the family, laughing at the passage of time. We spoke in Korean, somehow feeling closer for it.

She reminded me about how much I used to eat as a high school athlete, emphasizing the enormous amounts with her spread out arms and the volume of her laughter. Then, she saw an outfit on sale and excitedly asked me to help find her size. I obliged, searching through women’s clothes, not considering how ridiculous it may look.

Eventually, she lead me to the men’s section and asked if I needed anything. Mothers always treat their sons as little boys regardless of age. I tried to change the topic with questions about several of my cousins, but she was already looking at clothes for me. Finally, I convinced her that we should look at other stores as well.

Outside, the weather was gorgeous, perfect for downtown shopping. With the street musicians serenading us, she stopped by a cherry blossom that reminded her of Korea.

After a few stops, I directed her to the Nordstrom Rack. She was now even more focused on shopping with the prospect of saving money. I followed her about, delighting in her obvious enthusiasm. There, she found a pair of sandals that she loved — so much so she decided to buy another pair for my wife Shari.

I let her buy me a pair of shoes there as well.

Outside again, she pulled out a Starbucks card insisting we enjoy tw0 frappuccinos. We got carried away in our good mood and also shared a roasted corn on the cob. We conversed about how healthy she and my dad are. Me, watching her reaction carefully for any telltale signs to the contrary. Happy not to have noticed anything.

Time moved fast. I had arrived a day earlier from London but didn’t feel any jet lag shopping with her. It was just a perfect day.

The next day, she texted, “I was happy yesterday shoping with my son and lunch together with my family.”

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Chicago's Cloud Gate (bean) at Millenium Park

Chicago is a great city. It’s got grit and flash. Regardless of the fact that the US Census lists Los Angeles as the second most populace city in the US, I consider Chicago the “second” city. After all, is Los Angeles really a city?

Of course, I get a bit of a distorted perspective of Chicago since I stay with my sister-and-brother in law at the Trump Tower whenever I visit. I guess most any city would look pretty cool  from a 56th floor penthouse view. Down below, however, boast some of the best museums in the world (I visited the Field Museum and the Chicago Art Museum this trip), a world famous shopping district (Michigan Avenue’s magnificent mile) and the bars of Rush Street.

Of course, no city would rate very high on my list without world-class eateries. Chicago is known for its ethnic neighborhoods with their authentic restaurants. I tried a Jewish deli (Manny’s), a Brazilian Steak House (Brazzaz), a Greek Restaurant (Parthenon), and Shaw’s Crab House for Easter brunch. Yup, I was full and happy all the time.

While I’m bragging anyways, let me tell you about one of my favorite entrepreneurs — my brother-in-law Chris Nam. I have

Chris (right) with help from his brother James built a successful business

tremendous respect for him. He started a car dealership more than 20 years ago without signing on with any of the auto manufacturers. He worked six days a week, 12-hours a day and built a great business. His success was built on integrity, customer service and sustainability. The business has endured through the recent difficult times while other dealerships with more capital and name recognition have gone out of business.

I’ve been involved in various technology-related startups where ideas sometimes is more important than good old-fashion sustained hard work. Retail businesses are tough businesses, but have great rewards for those who put in the effort and manage their companies effectively.

There was no IPO nor any liquidity event. There was no venture funding. But there remain a great cash business to this day. I salute all small retail businesses, especially Chris Nam’s Pro Auto Dealership.

View from Trump Tower's 56th floor

Manny's deli

Chicago's Manny's Deli

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Parenthood is a humbling experience. It is a rewarding experience. It is a growing experience. Children are a reflection of their parents. Maybe that’s why parenting can be so frustrating.

I’ve gone through different phases of parenthood. Of course, there is the “overwhelmed stage” as a young parent. We had our two boys 11 months apart. That was physically taxing, especially for my wife. I quickly realized how different points of views can be about child rearing. We had a Korean live-in “nanny” when the boys were babies. Once, when my older son, Jeffrey, cried and wouldn’t go to sleep, I left him in the crib and restrained the nanny from picking him up. Next day, she was packing her things, saying she would not stay around and watch a baby die from the cruelty of his father. My wife pleaded with her to stay, promising that I wouldn’t do that again.

I wanted to teach my sons independence in the Western way. The women in their lives wanted to nurture them unconditionally in the Asian way. That unconditional love, of course, has a price later of tremendous family pressures and obligations.

As my kids grew older, I was completely absorbed in my career, especially in building ARIS. I traveled constantly and played only a minor role to my wife in raising our boys during their elementary school years. I remember hearing somewhere that a mother’s role is make children feel nurtured and safe, and a father’s role is to prepare them for the real world. I took that too literally. For their elementary and pre-teen years, I was a strict disciplinarian.

My younger son, Jeremy, especially had a hard time with my approach as he was very sensitive. Even as a big chasm developed between us, I was determined to treat both boys the same. That was a big mistake. After all, I was an adult and he was a child, and I was being unreasonably stubborn.

As the boys hit teenage years, Jeffrey became everything that I tried to instill, a very independent person — but to an extreme. He got into the punk culture while living in London. He played in a rock band. He got in trouble in school and with local authorities. No parenting method worked. By then, I had matured enough to know that the cold disciplinarian tactic did not work. I was trying be a more engaged father. Even that, I messed up in my typical fashion, getting too involved with his band and giving input that wasn’t wanted, nor needed.

Looking back, the problem was that my boys weren’t meeting MY expectations. I initiated most of the conflict. Now, I agree that parents need to set guidelines, but we need to determine whether our expectations for our children are good for them or for the parent. If it’s only good for the parent, then the problem obviously is the parent.

Here is a story that changed my perspective. There was a young man who had social anxiety issues and met with a psychologist. He was raised by a single mother who never let him out of her sight. She developed her whole life around him. She drove him to school, picked him up at school, even as he was going to high school. When asked if he perhaps thought that his mother had acted selfishly, the young man responded, “Oh no, it’s because she loved ME so much.”

Obviously, real love would have been to let her son grow and develop the skills necessary to function in society, regardless of how painful that may have been for the insecure, single mother. Letting go sometimes is the truest form of love.

We just finished a family vacation over the holidays in Southern California. While we had the usual moments of conflict when trying to coordinate a group decision, our time together was very pleasant. My perspective on parenting has changed a lot over the years. I’m not big on imposing my will on my boys anymore (it never worked), but now want to find their individual strengths and nurture those. I’ve learned to appreciate the personalities of each.  I must say that they are both very street smart, despite all the craziness I had injected into their lives.

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Recently, we moved into a Seattle downtown condo, 1,500 square feet of urban living.

It’s been great so far, but I was a bit worried about having enough room when our second son comes home during his college breaks. Surprisingly, however, all of us living in such close proximity of each other has been yet another benefit of living in the condo.

Our lives together now remind us about our two years together in a flat (about the same size) in London when our sons were pre-teens. We were constantly in each other’s space. This made all of us  much more aware and involved in one another’s lives. We couldn’t help it, we overheard each other and shared our spaces all the time.

We felt more connected as a family. Whenever there were family decisions to be made, everyone already understood the rationales.

While in our 4,300 square feet suburban house on Mercer Island, however, the boys had their own spaces. Everyone disappeared into their own rooms. It was difficult to know much about each person’s lives. Ironically, the big dream family house made staying connected as a family more difficult.

Now, as we again live together in our smallish urban setting, we are communicating much more. We have to learn to cooperate as we share bathrooms, televisions and the general living area. We are becoming a closer family again.

In the same way, companies need to “narrow” the proximity between colleagues in the work place to improve communication and align goals. In a startup environment, people are many times crammed together in a makeshift office, where everyone can hear each other’s conversations. Those are often times remembered fondly by employees as the best times. That’s because everyone is so connected.

Such environments, however, naturally change as companies grow. Slowly, the “big house” effect eventually disconnects the team over time. I believe management should try more proactively to retain the “small condo” connections between all employees. Social media tools, if deployed correctly, can help.

For Lift9, we use Yammer to allow the “eavesdropping” of internal conversations. Yammer is an inside the enterprise microblog tool (like Twitter) that allows individuals to post tweet-like comments inside the company’s firewall. Since we have offices in Seattle and Ho Chi Minh, staying connected is a big challenge, but an important one for us to overcome in order to be successful.

Of course, we share sales wins and give “shout outs” for outstanding efforts. Just as importantly, we also share what we had for lunch and who won at a particular Vietnamese card game. In this way, we build connections across different cultures to form what is the Lift9′s unique corporate culture. We encourage almost any kind of chatter as those give glimpses to each other’s lives, personalities. That’s like watching one of my boys play an Xbox game even though there is a football game on the TV. I feel more connected to his life from the experience.

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As I get older, one person seems particularly upset about my aging progression.

No, it’s not my wife. She actually doesn’t seem much bothered by me aging as she is very much more concerned about looking youthful herself.

No, it’s not my kids. In fact, they would prefer for me to act and look older as they enter their early adulthood. They get annoyed if I fit into their clothes or am mistaken as an older brother. Not cool.

No, it’s not me. I’ve seen a lot worse cases of mid-life crisis than myself.

It’s my mother. She notices my every new wrinkle, my receding hairline and each new limp. She tells me that each new gray hair on me exaggerates her own gray hairs, and each new winkle exaggerates her own winkles. After all, I’m her son. How can I get old? It’s a reflection on her. Of course, she says all this with a sharp sense of humor, but the tinge of truth is unmistakable.

Then, she tells the story of how a few generations ago in Korea, when an elderly grandmother lived too long beyond the means of the family, her son was obligated to carry his mother piggyback deep into the forest to drop her off to die so the family could survive. Along the way from his back, she, knowing full well her pending fate, would break small branches on the trails so that her son wouldn’t get lost on his way back home. “That grandmother wouldn’t be much older than YOUR age now,” she concludes, breaking into a playful laugh. “See, how old does that make ME feel?” she asks accusingly.

Mothers! They can make you feel guilty about anything.

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My mother (71-years-old) called me excitedly to tell me that she had a “text” conversation with my son Jef (20-years-old) yesterday. Here is a creatively paraphrased version of the conversation as I understood it (I put in parenthesis what I imagine they were thinking).

Grandmother: “Hi Jeffrey, this is grandma. I was thinking of you. What are you doing?” (Hey Jef, I just learned to text and want to show off to you )

Grandson: “Hi gm, at festival” (What? My grandma is texting me)

Grandmother: “What kind festival?” (He texted me back! He texted me back!)

Grandson: “Bumbershoot. Music festival. Dank.” (I wonder why she is asking?)

Grandmother: “Yes, drink lots of water. No alcohol. Are you with friends?” (I’m so cool)

Grandson: “with gf.” (?? This is just like when mom bothers me)

Grandmother: “You’re a nice boy and good to your grandma. I love you Jeffrey. Be safe.” (I like texting)

Grandson: “Ok grandma. Peace.” (My grandma is pretty chill)

Want to talk to the young people today? You have to use their mode of communciation. Kudos to my immigrant mother for teaching herself how to text. I’m impressed she figured out how to use the phone key pad to type. My wife had just bought her a phone and put her on our AT&T family plan — with unlimited texting.

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My father, brother-in-law, brother and I played golf together today. It was a comical foursome on a scorching day  in Seattle.

My father started playing golf about nine months ago at the age of 72. He’s lost some mobility due to a surgery to remove calcium deposits in his neck that constricted his spine. Nonetheless, he is an enthusiastic golfer and loves having the three of us there whenever he hits a good shot.

My brother-in-law is the youngest, although the three of us are all in our 40′s. He’s still spry and thin. He has been working some incredible hours as one of the pastors at a church in Seoul with around 40,000 members. His job is incredibly demanding. And now, he may be creating even more stress for himself as he is starting a new church in Seoul. He and our sister and their three daughters are back in Seattle visiting.

My brother and I are 18 months apart and probably started thrash-talking to each other as soon as he, the younger one, was born. We are relentless with one another. It’s always been that way. We wouldn’t want it any other way.

The hills were tough in the heat today. All three of us made sure that our father had help throughout the round with his heavy bag. He was a trooper though, he walked the full 18 holes.

Those five hours were the longest period of concentrated time I’ve ever spent with my father, brother-in-law and brother all together. Funny, it took a little white ball to get us together to see my father act like a kid again, to have the opportunity to listen to my brother-in-law ponder his future, and to compete with my brother once again. To me, that’s the magic of golf. We don’t hunt nor farm together to bond like our ancestors. Instead, we hunt and club little white balls together.

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