Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother - Amy Chua [61]
Part of me felt as if we had pulled the wool over Miss Tanaka’s eyes. But another part of me was filled with inspiration and new resolve.
Lulu’s Bat Mitzvah approached. Even though I’m not Jewish and the Bat Mitzvah was Jed’s terrain, Lulu and I went to battle here too. I wanted her to play the violin at her Bat Mitzvah. I had in mind Joseph Achron’s “Hebrew Melody,” a beautiful, prayerful piece that Lulu’s old friend Lexie had told us about. Jed approved; Lulu didn’t.
“Play violin? At my Bat Mitzvah? That’s ridiculous! I refuse,” Lulu said, incredulous. “It’s completely inappropriate. Do you even know what Bat Mitzvah means? It’s not a recital.” Then she added, “I just want to have a big party, and get lots of presents.”
This was said to provoke and enrage me. Lulu had heard me railing for years against spoiled rich kids whose parents spend millions of dollars on their Bat Mitzvah parties, cotillions, or sweet sixteens. The truth is that Lulu has a strong Jewish identity. Unlike Sophia (or for that matter, Jed), Lulu had always insisted on observing Passover rules and fasting on Yom Kippur. For her, even more than for Sophia, the Bat Mitzvah was an important event in her life, and she threw herself with a passion into learning her Hebrew Torah and haftarah portions.
I wouldn’t take the bait. “If you don’t play the violin,” I said calmly, “then Daddy and I won’t throw you a party. We can just have a small ceremony—it’s the ritual that’s important, after all.”
“You have no right!” Lulu said furiously. “That’s so unfair. You didn’t make Sophia play the piano at her Bat Mitzvah.”
“It’s good for you to do something that Sophia didn’t,” I said.
“You’re not even Jewish,” Lulu retorted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. This has nothing to do with you.”
Six weeks before the date, I sent out Lulu’s invitations. But I warned her, “If you don’t play the ‘Hebrew Melody,’ I’ll cancel the party.”
“You can’t do that,” Lulu said scornfully.
“Why don’t you try me, Lulu?” I dared her. “See if I’ll do it or not.”
I honestly didn’t know who’d win this one. It was a high-risk maneuver too, because I didn’t have an exit strategy if I lost.
27
Katrin
The news about Katrin’s cancer was unbearable for my parents. Two of the strongest people I know, they simply crumpled in grief. My mother cried all the time and wouldn’t leave her house or respond to calls from friends. She wouldn’t even talk to Sophia and Lulu on the phone. My father kept calling me, his voice anguished, asking me—over and over—if there was any hope.
For treatment, Katrin chose the Dana-Farber/Harvard Cancer Center in Boston. We’d learned that it was one of the best bone marrow transplant facilities in the country. Harvard was also where Katrin and her husband, Or, had studied and trained, and she still knew people there.
Everything happened so fast. Just three days after getting her diagnosis, Katrin and Or locked up their house at Stanford and moved their entire household to Boston (Katrin refused even to consider leaving her children behind in California with their grandparents). With the help of our friends Jordan and Alexis, we found them a house to rent in Boston, a school for Jake, and day care for Ella.
Katrin’s leukemia was so aggressive that the doctors at Dana-Farber told her she had to go straight to a bone marrow transplant. No other route offered any chance of survival. But for the transplant to be possible, Katrin had to overcome two huge hurdles. First, she had to undergo intensive chemotherapy and pray that her leukemia would go into remission. Second, if it did, she had to get lucky and find a donor match. For each of these hurdles, the chances of success weren’t great. For both to succeed, the odds were terrifying. And even if all that worked out, the chances of surviving the bone marrow transplant were even worse.
Katrin had two days in Boston before she checked into the hospital. I