Why people who read books are the best kind of people

Ever since I started learning to read as a child, I have loved it. I read voraciously as a child, and throughout my life, I’ve always enjoyed reading and have done it for leisure. Sometimes as a kid, I read because I had nothing else to do; when I was young, my parents never enrolled me in any activities, so I’d just be stuck at home during school breaks and summers. I’d end up reading whatever I could get my hands on. Sometimes, that included home remedy and house repair books. Other times, it included gardening and cookbooks. But even when I did start getting out of the house more, I always, always enjoyed my quiet time reading. When we read, we are able to whisk ourselves away from our current place and time and fully immerse ourselves in the stories, times, and lands where the book’s story takes place. We are able to learn and see through another person’s eyes, and thus, are likely to be more empathetic and understanding of different people’s experiences. Reading broadens our scope of knowledge and exposes us to different aspects of the human experience that we may never have the opportunity to get exposed to, for better or worse. I’d like to think this makes us more capable of deeper feelings. While reading the very best and complex novels, it can feel like a bit of time travel. As the physician/novelist Abraham Verghese says, “You suspend disbelief, and you live through centuries, sometimes, or at least decades, (…) births and deaths, and you put the book down and it’s still Tuesday.”

On top of adding to one’s knowledge of the world, increasing empathy, and just being a form of entertainment and even “time travel,” in its most basic sense, reading helps to improve critical thinking, vocabulary, grammar/sentence structure, and can even help with stress relief. It’s also been linked to helping with preventing dementia/Alzheimer’s Disease. So given this, it’s been really strange and unsettling to hear that to this day, Chris’s dad thinks reading books is not a good use of time, and even mocks his mother for being an avid reader. Apparently, he “learned” this disdain from his own mother, Chris’s Nana, who always thought that a woman’s place was in the home to take care of the household and children, and to never do anything else. She used to mock Chris’s mom’s love of books and tell Chris’s dad to get her to stop. They both failed in this endeavor (thankfully). Chris’s dad has often times made disparaging comments about Chris’s mom’s love of reading, saying things like, “She must get these crazy ideas through the stories she reads!”

Given we’re in the year 2025, Chris’s parents are in their late 60s/early 70s, and Chris’s mom is a medical doctor, this disdain for reading books is quite a primeval and unenlightened idea to have. I never would have thought I would meet someone in my lifetime who would disparage reading books of all things, but alas, the person ended up coming right under my nose in my own father-in-law, someone who has grown up in great wealth, comfort, and access to education and knowledge. I was reminded of this negative opinion while finishing The Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese this week. It’s a long, long book (over 700 pages) that spans three generations of a family and two continents, but along with Verghese’s Cutting for Stone, it’s likely one of my all-time favorite books I’ve ever read. I love the character development, the interwoven stories of multiple families across countries, and how they all came together. I love the imagery of water and how it brings us together yet divides us, and I even loved all the medical details and how they came to life for me right on the page. Every time I picked up the book, I knew I was in love with it because it would literally feel like I was escaping reality and being transported to another place while I was reading it. While both of Verghese’s novels are rumored to be in film production, like pretty much every time I have seen any book I have read become a movie, it’s never the same. The richness of character development and locations is never quite there. The subtlety of speech and body language always falls far short in a movie than on a page. I have rarely rooted for any character in a movie the way I have rooted for a character in a book.

Coincidentally, and it’s really no shock, most of the people I’ve liked and have enjoyed company with in my adult life are readers. They read fiction and nonfiction, and they love sharing what books they are enjoying (or not enjoying). Readers are the very best kind of people. I don’t think that’s really a debatable point.

Customer relationships: relationships for life

I’ve been in a customer-facing role at work for about 14 years now. As with any type of customer work, it can be pretty annoying, painful, and thankless. In my role, I have to get used to the fact that people will not always show appreciation for anything you have done for them, regardless of whether it fits your exact job description or whether you’ve truly gone above and beyond.

However, I do have a handful of customers over the years I’ve held in really high regard and have built really positive, mutually respectful relationships with. A number of us keep in touch via LinkedIn and occasionally still message. A handful actually follow me on Facebook and Instagram. And I have one customer who nearly made me cry about a week ago when I was transitioning off his account and handing them over to a counterpart on my team.

I announced on this call that after 4.5 years of working with these folks that I’d be transitioning off. They were my first customer at my current company since September 2020, and the only customer I’ve had since day 1; that’s 4.5 years of working together and chatting about everything regarding work and life. It was a bit bittersweet to be honest, as I really liked this group of people, but this decision wasn’t in my hands to make.

One of them took some time on the call, with my current colleagues taking over on the Zoom, to explain why it was so hard for them to see me leave. He said that among vendor/partner relationships in his 20-plus-year-long career that I was a rare breed. He never felt like I was trying to sell him or make him buy something he didn’t need. I was always straightforward and shared what I really thought could help them as a business. I was genuine to the core, inside and out, he said, and consistently so. And he could tell I truly cared for him and his team as people. He recounted the time, about three years ago, when his nephew had suddenly died in a tragic motorcycle accident. His nephew was like another son to him, as they were very close, so he took the news quite hard. He was out on bereavement leave, and his colleagues had shared this sad news with me. I immediately reached out to get his address and had some flower arrangements sent to his home to send our company’s condolences. No other colleague or vendor partner had done this, he had shared. “I will never forget you and will always remember how kind, generous, and compassionate you were at the time. You will always, always have my trust,” he said on the call.

To be honest, I had forgotten this had happened. I hadn’t thought about it much at the time, because to me, a gesture like that seems like a no-brainer regardless of whether we had a working relationship or a personal relationship. But when he mentioned it on this call, I was so shocked and caught off guard that I started tearing up that he even remembered this. “Ahhh, this is too much for work!” I exclaimed. I felt so embarrassed, especially with two of my colleagues on the call listening to this and watching our faces.

Work can be shmerk. But it’s in moments like this when I realize the real value of my job, and what I will remember long after I have left said industry and said company, which is, at its core, helping others.

I’m 39 today.

A former boyfriend of one of my best friends used to say that Asians always look good, that they age well… until they don’t. He had this fictional graph where the X-axis showed one’s age, and the Y-axis was “good looks.” Asians were high on the chart as they aged… until they hit somewhere between 55-60. At that point, their “good looks” would come crashing down and they’d basically become a pile of leathery skin, endless wrinkles, liver spots, and grey hair.

I think I know what he was trying to say. The truth is that when the average person thinks of aging, they immediately think of things like white hair and wrinkles. But “aging” shows up differently for non-White people like Asians. For people who look like me, the things that stare back at you in the mirror, reminding you that you are no longer in your teens or 20s, are things like this: sun spots, freckles, teeny tiny fine lines, less fat on your face (yes, really), which means that your bones stick out more, and you start noticing “angles” on your face, like around your eyes and cheeks, that you never saw before. Of course, Asians will wrinkle. And of course, we will get grey/white hairs, as I already have some. But those are the things I see when I scrutinize my face now at age 39 that I never really took notice of until this time last year.

My metabolism is slowing down. Since I weaned off breastfeeding two years ago, I’ve never been able to totally work off the extra belly fat right in my lower abdomen; the flat stomach I once enjoyed seems to be just slightly out of my reach no matter how much cardio, exercise, and strength training I do. I’ll need to rethink my strategy on dealing with this in 2025. Sometimes now, when I eat very spicy hot food, which I love, I get more mucus in my throat — the same annoying side effect my mom has been telling me she’s been experiencing as she’s aging. That deters her from wanting to eat hot food, which she always loved and grew up loving.

But it’s all okay. I’d like to think I am smarter now, wiser, that I see life with more shades of colors and all its nuances. Unlike in my early life, there’s really no such thing as something or anything that is all good or all bad, all “hero” or all “villain.” Every person in our life is part villain, part hero, whether we want to admit it out loud or not. I have more perspective now. I’ve never had a single moment when I wished I were in my teens or 20s again. I like having more money and more financial stability. I’m a lot more confident in literally everything I do, from the way I walk on the street to how I conduct myself at work. I tolerate far less bullshit, abuse, and questionable treatment from literally everyone and anyone. It takes time to be comfortable in one’s skin. And so here I am, in my 40th year, happy to grab life by the balls and make sure that every moment is a moment worth living and speaking my truth.

I’m so fortunate and privileged to have the life I’ve had, full of meaningful, fun, vibrant experiences, travels, people, and tastes. Sometimes, I cannot believe how much fun I have had in my life, what good fortunes I’ve been able to enjoy, the kindnesses I’ve experienced all around from those closest to me as well as total strangers in everyday life and struggles (like the ones who stop and try to coax my child when she refuses to walk and wants to lie on the dirty sidewalk…). I hope that things will only get better from here on out, even with all my sun spots, fine lines, and grey hairs coming in. And I can only hope that my daughter will appreciate me for all of it.

The reasons to keep fighting

It would be easy to write off the 74 million-plus people who voted for Dipshit and just sit here and be disillusioned… if I didn’t have a child of my own who has to inherit this world and live in it. But now, I’ve been sitting here, reading headlines, different publications, points of view that outline what the Democratic Party potentially did to create the total annihilation it has experienced this past week. Lots went wrong. A lot needs to change with the Democratic Party. A lot needs to change with education and disinformation and how it’s handle and addressed that will not be fixed in the next two, four, or 10+ years. But we have to keep fighting the good fight… even when those against us are just trying to kill us all.

I had the day off from work today for Veteran’s Day, as did Kaia from school. So this morning while Chris was on a call, I took her down to our building’s play room and brought along her favorite bubble machine (which I procured from my local Buy-Nothing group). I watched her gleefully run around with it and spread bubbles everywhere. She giggled, squeaked, and ran around endlessly to spread bubble literally all over the freaking room. I documented her joy through photos and videos. I stopped and just watched her in all her youth and innocence. And I just thought… she deserves a much better world than this. When she is older, how are Chris and I going to explain to her that the first presidential election she was around for, this country elected a convicted felon with a track record for spewing hate? Is this going to teach her that you can get away with literally everything you want as long as you are some rich White man?

This last week, my limbs have all felt heavier. Yet when I check my weight on the scale, I’m the exact same freaking weight. Even walking around and doing day-to-day tasks feels like it’s all been such an effort. But I have to throw myself into life and the future for the sake of my Pookster. I have to set an example for how she should be. The last thing I want is for her to repeat the line that I’ve said about my parents, the line that I read in Julia Child’s book My Life in France, which she wrote about her own regressive father: “He is an example of how not to be.” I’ve done a bit more cooking and food prep. I started reading a book that I’d been on the Libby / NYPL wait list for, for nearly five months, called Against the Loveless World, by Susan Abulhawa. It documents the life of a young Palestinian woman who lives as a refugee in Kuwait, then Jordan, then goes back to Palestine and becomes “radicalized.” I thought the title of the book was quite fitting for my general sentiment the last week, if not moving forward.

Hope and dread today

It is scary to think that today, the United States of America could be electing a convicted felon to a second nonconsecutive term of president. Even after he denounced the 2020 presidential results. Even after he’s shown clear examples of blatant sexism, racism, and classism. I don’t have a lot of hope to be honest, especially given how close the presidential election was in 2020. But, I do have a toddler who is growing up in this very divided country where her rights are eroding every single day, so I have to be optimistic for her sake. Because… I am definitely NOT optimistic for mine.

God bless, America. Sort of.

Response from the executive director of the Manhattan Chapter, AFSP

Last week after I sent my email to the executive director of the Manhattan Chapter of AFSP, she responded. She was really kind and thoughtful in her response and said she appreciated my feedback and heard everything I said. She wanted to invite me to lunch in the next month so that we could get to know each other, and also to ask me to join the Manhattan Walk committee for next year.

I immediately said yes to lunch. I think it would be a good idea to sit down with her to see what her role is about, how she got into this since she’s new to the organization, and to see what the future of the AFSP Manhattan Chapter looks like. It would be a good learning opportunity for me. Plus, her work is paid work; she works for AFSP. I’d like to see her perspective on all this. Honestly, as terrible as it sounds, I do not speak much with people who work at not-for-profit organizations. I did tell her that while I was flattered to be asked to join the Walk committee, I was not 100 percent sure given the time commitment. The idea of dealing with politics and bureaucracy at a job I’d receive zero pay for does not necessary delight my senses.

It made me feel good to know that she cares and was quick to respond. This is supposed to be a community, after all, so I’m hopeful about the future for AFSP.

Caregiver Workshop: Developmental milestones for ages 3-5

This morning, I attended a caregiver workshop on developmental milestones for ages 3-5. It was hosted at Kaia’s school (the larger location a few blocks down), and the presentation was done by an instructional coordinator and a social worker who work for the Department of Education. Chris said he didn’t think it would be worth going to since he’d likely be able to find out all the information via a simple Google search. While that is likely true given the endless parenting resources that are available online, I thought it would be good to go for several reasons: 1) it’s nice to have in-person interaction, especially since I work from home 100 percent of the time), 2) it would be an interesting forum to discuss questions and concerns in a group format and have back and forth conversations, and 3) given these are done by the DOE, we’re lucky we even get access to this type of thing, so if we don’t take advantage of it and the turnout is low, they may end up discontinuing these, which would be to the detriment of those who don’t have the same resources we do.

And as I learned during the session, while data and general guidelines are useful and can always be obtained from pediatricians, medical professionals, and reputable online resources, it’s nice to be able to hear anecdotes about what social workers are actually seeing in the field. This format of nonfiction, “self-help” type book is also what I like the best: opinions backed up by data, as well as personal anecdotes peppered throughout. I always love hearing personal stories because our entire life is a continuous story. The social workers shared some scary anecdotes about developmental milestones getting delayed. They said that in the last five or so years, there have been an increase in cases of children as young as 2-years old who need occupational therapy referrals because they are somehow unable to turn a page of a book. They have no exposure at home to physical books, so instead, they get an iPad. They are so used to the motion of “swiping” up, down, left, and right, that their fingers just do not know how to pinch together to turn a paper page. That was mind boggling to me and made me feel so sad.

The families who don’t have the resources to buy their children physical, hard copy books, and/or the families who are so strapped for time that they cannot sit down and read a real book with their child — those are the families that need workshops and resources like these most. And I hope they are able to get access to them sooner rather than later.

AFSP follow-up

I decided to write a letter to this year’s AFSP Walk director. I decided against writing anything in previous years because I didn’t want to make a big stink, a “woe is me” plea. I recognize that they’re a nonprofit, that their team is quite small and lean, and that things can slip through the cracks. They aren’t some bloated organization where people are just twiddling their fingers all day. But this time, after 11 years, I feel like my voice needs to be heard about all the little slights over these number of years.

I drafted a letter, which is currently in my inbox. I tried to word and format it carefully so that it didn’t just sound like a bunch of complaining, but was actually speaking to flaws I think the walk and overall organization has. And this is coming from someone (me!) who has been involved quite actively for over a decade. I’ll probably sit on it for another day or two before I send it and make sure to proofread it for coherency. My friend suggested that after 11 years of being a top fundraiser, I really have already earned my seat at the table whether they are willing to give to me or not. He suggested I join the board or walk committee. I doubt they will offer me a board seat, but maybe a committee seat. I’m sure there are all kinds of road blocks to pass before getting an actual board seat. But the truth is that I’m not really sure what I want as a result of this. I suppose I just want them to hear a voice from their community and address how corporate they’ve become. Even if they offered me a board or committee seat, I don’t know if I want to spend that much extra free time, of the little I have, for AFSP. It’s mentally and emotionally exhausting to think about suicide and mental health awareness all the time. And it will likely just feel like another job, just one that I’m not paid for, and that likely will not bring me joy or fulfillment. We shall see how this goes.

The 11th AFSP Out of the Darkness walk in honor of Ed

I’ve been an active fundraiser for the AFSP Out of the Darkness Walks here in New York City for the last 11 years. In the last 11 years, I single-handedly have fundraised almost $60,000 for AFSP and have consistently been ranked one of the top fundraisers and part of the top teams in New York City. This year, before a pending company match, I had personally raised $5,900 and was ranked third for individual fundraising. Our team raised $6,150 and was ranked 7th across teams. Despite my passionate, consistent efforts in fundraising, though, Chris and some of my friends have pointed out that year after year, something has gone wrong that has ultimately resulted in a slight towards my efforts.

When I first started with AFSP Out of the Darkness Walks in 2014, we had a real community, and people actively sought to get to know new people during the walks. I befriended the former Walk directors and people on the board; they knew me, and I knew them. AFSP acknowledged top individual fundraisers and teams in a much more prominent way that actually put a spotlight on community members. Since 2015-2016, this community feeling has gradually degraded. Instead of leaders and board members getting to know other active, top fundraisers, less is done to foster community, and more has been done to put more spotlight on corporate sponsors, whose names are already known. More has been done to spotlight board members, who are already “insiders” in the AFSP community. This is *not* how you foster community or encourage those outside of your board or organization to fundraise and participate. The way that these events are being run and how board members and sponsors are getting acknowledged, whether that is on stage at the Walk ceremony or on the backs of the Walk t-shirts, makes AFSP seem like it is becoming more like a corporation rather than a non-profit that values community. Their corporate sponsors already have their brand names everywhere; AFSP’s individual fundraisers and teams want more acknowledgement and should get it. Top teams and individuals used to get recognized on the t-shirts. This is no longer the case.

And as for my personal experience, I cannot remember getting acknowledged in person by any AFSP employee, board member, or volunteer for my fundraising efforts since maybe 2016. Previous directors always made the effort to meet me and any team members I had. This hasn’t been the case for years now. This year, my team, Team Edward Y. Wong, qualified for the Top Teams tent. When we checked in, only I was granted a Top Teams lanyard. I didn’t understand how the lanyards worked, so I assumed it was just given to the Team Captain (no one explained this to me). Several volunteers came up to us (one of whom was very rude), and said we weren’t supposed to be in the tent and had to leave. In a volunteer’s words, we were “not following the rules,” whatever those rules are because they were never shared with us. When another volunteer overheard what happened and recognized what was wrong, she went to see if she could get more lanyards. She was told they had run out of lanyards. Then, my friend/team member went looking, and she found a whole box of lanyards and got one for each of our team members. The disorganization and inconsistent messaging was frustrating, especially because it was embarrassing as one of the Top Teams who raised over $5K to potentially get kicked out. 

My team and I have also been slighted in other ways: there have been years my team wasn’t granted a sign, and this year, as many of my donors pointed out to me, our team name was even misspelled on the site; someone wasn’t even able to do a simple “copy and paste” and got Ed’s name wrong: His last name is Wong, NOT “Wog.”

As for the top fundraising and how that is calculated, it’s always frustrating when everyday community members get topped by board members and those “inside” the organization. This does not create a strong community and instead, it only serves as “pats on the backs” for those who are already within AFSP. Again, it reflects how over the last 11 years, AFSP has been acting more like a corporation rather than a people- and mission-centered company. 

I do this walk every year and fundraise as aggressively as I do in an attempt to keep my brother’s memory alive. I do it for those who are suffering and feel invisible. I do it in hopes that others won’t die the way my brother did. I have no ill intentions. I don’t have any questionable LLCs donating to me like some of the board members, who got the majority of their shady donations from these “LLCs.” All my donations are from my family, friends, friends of friends, colleagues, ex-colleagues, and legitimate corporate matches. I’ve been doing this now for 11 years — longer than anyone on Sunday’s stage has been doing this. After 11 years, it may be time for me to consider moving my fundraising efforts elsewhere to another mental health nonprofit that will actually genuinely appreciate the work and fundraising I do and acknowledge me and my team. I haven’t decided yet, but I will sit on it and think, and also look up other organizations. My main goals are to 1) keep Ed’s memory alive, first and foremost, and 2) fundraise and help others who are suffering. I could easily do that with another organization, and without AFSP.

Good people all around

I walked up to 84th Street this afternoon to pick up my repaired earrings from a generous and artsy neighbor. I wanted to get her something to express my appreciation and debated between a gift card to the new Salt and Straw or flowers, but in the end, I thought flowers might be a safer bet. So I picked up some sunflowers on my way to her apartment. She seemed shocked, as though what I gave her was excessive for whatever reason. But it just seemed like a no-brainer to me. She generously offered to repair my earrings at no cost with her own time and materials, so this was really the least I could have done.

The last few trips home on the subway with Kaia, she has expressed that she really wants a window seat. Unfortunately, we’re not always able to get one for her because they’re occupied. So the last few rides, she’s loudly expressed she wants a window seat. A friendly woman overheard her yelping, so she tapped me and insisted that Kaia could sit in her seat; she said she was getting off in two stops, so it was no big deal. With my permission, she lifted Kaia up out of her seat and into the window seat. At first, Kaia seemed a bit shocked, as if to say, “Who the hell is this stranger picking me up out of nowhere?” But when she realized what was happening and where she ended up sitting, Kaia broke into this huge, wide grin and started giggling. I asked her to thank the nice lady, and she said “thank you” several times before the woman got off the train.

Kaia has elicited endless smiles on the subway. She’s disarmed many people everywhere. More people than I can count on my fingers have offered to give up their seat for her, to give her Kaia’s preferred seat, to help with her. I am always deeply appreciative and humbled by how truly kind so many complete strangers are. Granted, I suppose I’ve been lucky in my life. Even before Kaia existed, strangers have generally been kind to me. People pick things off the floor that I’ve dropped. They’ve offered to help me lift luggage into overhead bins on planes or take them up or down the subway stairs. These are all reminders to me that the majority of the world means well, even when 2-3 percent of the world may totally suck.