Asako Tomita, 88, dances during the San Fernando Valley Obon Festival on June 29, 2024.
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Julie Leopo
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We spent the weekend at an Obon festival, hosted by the San Fernando Valley Hongwanji Buddhist Temple. What follows is a visual and audio tour of the weekend, from the chopping veggies to dancing at sunset.
The backstory: Obon is a joyous summer holiday dedicated to remembering and honoring ancestors. It’s a bit like the Japanese version of Día de Muertos, with a distinctly Japanese American twist. Festivals take place at temples and community centers from June to August and include carnival games, home-cooked food, and traditional Japanese dancing.
Why the Obon is important: All of the work that temple and community members put into each Obon festival is something that you can feel right when you walk in. There’s a warmth to the food and the laughter of friends reuniting that surrounds you.
Read on... for more on the immersive guide.
Summer weekends at SoCal Japanese Buddhist temples fill with carnival games, Japanese food and dancing as people of all generations come together to celebrate Obon, a joyous holiday dedicated to remembering and honoring ancestors.
Growing up Japanese American, attending an Obon festival evokes instant nostalgia — I remember being a kid eating peanut butter mochi and shaved ice during breaks between dancing. Learn more about Obon.
What is Obon?
Obon — one of SoCal’s biggest Japanese American celebrations — is a joyous summer holiday dedicated to remembering and honoring ancestors. It’s a bit like the Japanese version of Día de Muertos, with a distinctly Japanese American twist.
Festivals take place at temples and community centers from June to August and include carnival games, home-cooked food, and traditional Japanese dancing.
What it’s like to visit an Obon festival in SoCal, from spam musubi to dancing
For audio listeners: I recorded part of the audio story using binaural sound, so grab a pair of headphones for the full experience.
The setup starts at dawn
Priscilla Mui, Doreen Kushida, and Judy Matsuzaki slice and bag oranges as garnishes for the chicken teriyaki.
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Preparations for the San Fernando Valley Obon Festival start early. For temple members organizing the festival, Obon is an all-day affair, where everyone pitches in.
Some people arrive as early as 6 a.m. to start preparing food. Some won’t leave until clean up is done around 11 p.m.
By 10 a.m., the room is buzzing with people helping out with food prep. Long tables fill a room where people chop onions and lettuce for soups and salads and slice oranges for teriyaki beef plates. San Fernando Valley Hongwanji Buddhist Temple president Linnae McKeever weaves between the assembly lines offering instruction, answering questions, and directing volunteers to their stations.
“We're all atoms in motion,” says McKeever. “We have to do food prep for thousands of people that are coming in.”
Kari Nishimura is part of a large assembly line to prepare boxes of chirashi.
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In another room, Kari Nishimura adds bright pink ginger to boxes of chirashi.
“Honestly, I grew up here,” says Nishimura. “My grandparents and my great grandparents were actually the people who built our temple.”
She notes that Obon is often a reunion, where she runs into friends she has known since middle or high school. She also now sees the younger generation of her nieces and nephews enjoying the same traditions she did growing up.
You can't help but feel nostalgic and just be in a good mood.
— Kari Nishimura, temple member
At another table, a spam musubi assembly line is in full swing. Four temple members press rice and spam into large rectangular molds. They cut each rectangle diagonally so that when it’s arranged in the container, it looks like a heart. “So that when people get it, they can see it was made with love!” says Nishimura.
Rolling large slabs of spam musubi.
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Chirashi ready to serve.
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These popular foods sell out early at the festival.
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“We are so busy with our own Obon that we can't dance at ours, usually,” jokes Priscilla Mui, who is slicing and bagging oranges. “So we go to all the other ones so that we can dance.”
Obon festivals in Southern California are staggered on different weekends throughout the summer to allow people to attend multiple festivals a year. Mui says she usually tries to go to a handful of festivals each year. One year she went to six or seven.
All of the work that temple and community members put into each Obon festival is something you can feel right when you walk in. There’s a warmth to the food and the laughter of friends reuniting that surrounds you.
“You don't have to be a Buddhist, you don't have to be Japanese, to come out to an Obon festival and enjoy it,” says Jason Fenton, San Fernando Valley Hongwanji Buddhist temple first vice president. “Our community is made up of so many diverse religions and cultures. And building friendships and understanding is the key to what makes a community thrive.
So much food! Teriyaki beef, udon, Okinawan andagi, and more
In the late afternoon, the festivities begin. People slowly start to trickle in and set up camping chairs to save their spot close to the dancing circle, drawn with chalk around the perimeter of the festival. It’s the middle of summer in the San Fernando Valley and the heat is just starting to fade into that thick warmth of early evening.
Teriyaki BBQ is grilled during the San Fernando Valley Obon Festival on June 29, 2024.
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Students from the San Fernando Athletics serve up teriyaki platters for guests.
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When you enter, the first thing that hits you is the smell of teriyaki beef. It’s the hottest spot in the festival, with San Fernando Athletics parents at the grill and students serving up platters.
Udon is garnished for customers during the San Fernando Valley Obon Festival.
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There are home-cooked foods everywhere. Many of the foods you see at Obon festivals are Japanese American fare, like spam musubi, Okinawan sata andagi, and chili rice.
Japanese cold noodles, Somen, was just one of the many Japanese dishes sold at the San Fernando Valley Obon Festival on June 29, 2024.
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Lennon Toled, 8, eats sata andagi, an Okinawan donut, during the San Fernando Valley Obon Festival on June 29, 2024.
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Freshly fried sata andagi is a specialty of Okinawa.
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For the kids: Games, activities, and tradition
For families, one highlight of the festival is the games. Various temple and community center groups run the booths, which line the perimeter of the festival. Kids walk up to try their hand at winning prizes by tossing ping pong balls into glass balls, fishing for colorful wooden fish, and throwing metal rings around coins on a table. Many groups have been running these games at the festival for years, passing on the know-how to the next generation of families each year.
Yurika Yamaguchi and her daughter, Kaori Lopez, play fish bowl pitch.
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For many Japanese Americans of my generation, Obon festivals are a chance for fun memories and also, a little bit of tradition.
“We've been coming here since my oldest daughter was four. That's how we actually started having them come to the Japanese school here,” says parent Yurika Yamaguchi, adding that as an educator, she knows it’s important for her kids to know their culture.
Children fish for prizes at the festival.
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“Our kids are fifth generation. Over time, obviously, you lose tradition and culture,” says parent Justin Yoshizawa, who is working the teriyaki and shumai booth this year at the festival. “This is one of those events every year that we do consistently that helps remind them of their culture.”
This is one of those events every year that helps remind [our kids] of their culture
— Justin Yoshizawa, Parent
One place to escape the heat is in the bingo room at the San Fernando Valley Japanese American Community Center. The hall is packed with tables, where people try their luck at bingo while they eat their food.
Dominque Torres, 24, jumps up as he wins a round of bingo.
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The perimeter of the hall is lined with crafts and secondhand Japanese tableware and artwork for sale.
Attendees check out rows of bonsai trees, also for sale.
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Japanese housewares for sale. If you’re looking for rice bowls, this is your spot.
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Ruby Yamaoka, 87, from San Fernando Valley, performed ukulele at the festival.
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The festival also showcases performances from groups at the San Fernando Valley Japanese American Community Center, like ukulele and taiko drumming. Many friends and family cheer on performers from camping chairs they’ve brought from home.
Takashi Kubota, 7, plays the drums with the San Fernando Valley Taiko group on June 29, 2024 during the Obon Festival.
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Adrian Louie, 8, drums to the song "Renshu" with his peers from the San Fernando Valley Taiko group.
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Dancing to honor loved ones passed
Each Bon Odori song tells a story in a series of simple movements. All join in, regardless of experience.
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As the sun begins to set, the main event begins: Bon Odori, or traditional Japanese folk dancing, with the whole crowd participating.
“I want to begin to invite people to come to the circle,” says MC and temple member Traci Ishigo. “Are you ready to dance?”
She reminds the crowd that no experience is necessary and that most folks are also just remembering the moves like they are.
Taiko drummers atop the yagura keep time to traditional Japanese music for Bon Odori dancing.
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Festival-goers, young and old, in yukata and happi coats, form a huge circle around the yagura, a central, elevated platform decorated with paper lanterns.
From left, Jae Opiana, 24, and Mieko Kim, 23, wear yukata to the the Obon Festival in San Fernando Valley on June 29, 2024.
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Joanne Tokeshi, 64, fixes the bow on a Yukata during the June 29, 2024 San Fernando Valley Obon Festival.
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From left, Leah Heap, 73, and Freeman Baldwin, 67, wear happi coats during the San Fernando Valley Obon Festival on June 29, 2024.
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Kira Matsuno, 25, left, Sarah Hankins, 26, right, dance during the San Fernando Valley Obon Festival.
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As the folk music blasts from the speakers, taiko drummers keep a steady rhythm. Don. Kara-kara. Don. Kara-kara. Don. And the crowd of strangers, most watching the instructors and their neighbors for cues, slowly begins to move in step, at first unsure, then slowly with more confidence.
Chuko Akune, a dance instructor, leads the Obon dancing during the community festival.
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It’s hard to explain the feeling of dancing in unison with a large group of joyful strangers. Each dance tells a story in a handful of simple, repetitive movements: Fishermen casting nets into the sea, coal miners pushing carts, hands to forehead to wipe away sweat. It’s like honoring something ancient and bringing it into the present.
Reverend Yukari Torii opens the dancing with a welcome and some words about the significance of Obon.
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“Obon is a time to remember your ancestors and thank them for the life you have now,” says Reverend Yukari Torii. She says that in Japan, celebrating Obon is much more akin to Thanksgiving, where people travel home to spend time with family members.
In the U.S., as immigrants could not return to their hometowns, they instead took the opportunity to gather at Buddhist temples (or churches, as they’re often called here), which became hubs for Japanese American culture and community.
Go deeper: The history of Obon in the U.S.
Credit often goes to Reverend Yoshio Iwanaga for introducing Bon Odori on the mainland in 1930. As a music instructor, he infused into the celebrations music and dances from all over Japan, which are now central to Japanese American Obon celebrations.
During World War II, when the U.S. government incarcerated Japanese Americans, Obon celebrations didn’t stop. People celebrated in camp. Emily Anderson, historian and curator at the Japanese American National Museum, says: “There's something really powerful to me that despite all the circumstances, they still celebrated.”
Joanne Tokeshi is the lead Obon dance instructor for the temple and she coordinated this year’s dances. Though every year the Buddhist Churches of America Southern District selects a short list of songs that become the standard dances at all of the festivals, each temple adds their own favorites. She always adds one pop song into the mix. This year dancers apply the moves from the traditional dance Itsu Tatsu Ichi to Dua Lipa’s Dance the Night.
Some of the dances involve props to tell the story. Tokeshi’s red lacquer kachi kachi, or wooden castanets, are worn down from years of dancing.
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Dancers use tenugui, a traditional lightweight towel, for Honen Bon Uta, a dance that describes the story of sake making.
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Tokeshi has a background in Japanese Odori, which made her a natural fit to take the lead on her temple’s Bon Odori lineup. She has memories of three generations of her family dancing Bon Odori — her mom, her, and her daughter.
“I did lose my mom a couple of years ago,” says Tokeshi. “So, Obon became even more special for me to remember her — and celebrate with joy.”
Joanne Tokeshi wears a yukata that her mother hand-sewed for her.
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Joanne Tokeshi wears a yukata that her mother hand-sewed for her, with a fan honoring her parents tucked into her obi.
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I did lose my mom a couple of years ago. So, Obon became even more special for me to remember her — and celebrate with joy.
— Joanne Tokeshi, Lead Obon Dance Instructor
Jason Fenton says that some of his most joyful memories have been watching his children grow up and dance Bon Odori. One song, Gassho Ondo, features a moment where dancers bow to each other in thanks.
“And at that point in the song, my daughter turned to my wife and they bowed to each other. To me, that was beautiful,” he said.
Yoshikuno Torii, husband of San Fernando Valley Hongwanji Buddhist Temple’s minister, Reverend Yukari Torii, performs two classic Obon songs at the festival.
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Magic hour at the festival
Families, community members, and Obon dance instructors form a circle in dance during the San Fernando Valley Obon Festival on June 29, 2024.
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After the sun goes down, the dancing continues. The festival takes on a more relaxed and comfortable energy. People go back for seconds of their favorite food or look for dessert. Lights illuminate the booths of food and games, with the steady drumming of taiko to music in the background.
People place dollar bills on the colors where they think the basketball will land at the dough ball game booth, run by the Japanese American Citizens League.
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Inside the hall, blackout Bingo is in full swing, and things are picking up. At a desk on the stage, temple president Linnae McKeever counts the cash coming in from Bingo tickets. Bingo host Jean-Paul deGuzman makes a pitch to the audience to buy tickets for last call for Bingo tickets and a flurry of hands go up in the crowd. It’s like the attendees don’t want the night to end.
Jean-Paul deGuzman eggs on the crowd to buy more Bingo tickets in the last round of the evening at the closing of the festival on June 30, 2024.
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My two kids don’t want the night to end either. They wander around looking for one last game to play, one last sweet treat to eat. It’s these little moments that I hope they’ll remember as they grow.
Children take home bouncing balloons and other goodies at the end of the night.
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This year marks the San Fernando Valley Hongwanji Buddhist Temple's 103rd anniversary. Many of the Japanese American Buddhist temples boast similarly long histories. McKeever hopes that this community, and celebrations like Obon, continue to carry on into the future. “I'm hoping that [the next generation] will pick up where we left off and they'll carry on that strong tradition,” she says.
The yagura, illuminated by lanterns, at the end of the night at the San Fernando Valley Obon.
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Diane Hope provided coaching and feedback on the audio story.
A scene from 'Avatar: Fire and Ash,' in theaters Friday.
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20th Century Studios
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Topline:
Some of the challenges of composing the score for this latest installment of the "Avatar" film franchise included creating themes for new Na’vi clans and designing and 3D printing musical instruments for them to play. Keeping the recording of the film score in L.A. also was no small feat.
The backstory: All three Avatar film scores have been recorded in Los Angeles. But film score recording, along with the production of films more generally, increasingly has moved out of L.A. as tax incentives in other cities and countries draw productions away.
Film composer Simon Franglen and the film’s producers made a concerted effort to keep the recording of the Avatar: Fire and Ash score in L.A.
Read on … for more about the making of the score and how work for musicians in L.A. has declined.
In describing the massive undertaking it was to compose the score for the latest Avatar installment, Avatar: Fire and Ash, film composer Simon Franglen has some statistics he likes to share.
One is that almost every minute of the three-hour, 17-minute film was scored — three hours and four minutes to be exact. Printed out, that amount of music totaled more than 1,900 pages and had to be transported in two large road cases.
Another favorite stat of Franglen’s is that the epic score, which needed to match the epic scale of the film, required the work of 210 musicians, singers and engineers in Los Angeles.
Bucking the trend of recording overseas
Franglen is from the U.K., but L.A. has been his home for years. Meaning no disrespect to Britain, Franglen still says, “I would rather be here than anywhere else.”
That pride in his adopted home base has extended to his scoring work for Avatar, which Franglen says he and the film’s producers (director James Cameron and Jon Landau, who passed away in 2024) wanted recorded in Los Angeles, despite the fact that a lot of film scoring is increasingly moving abroad.
Franglen scored the second Avatar film, Avatar: The Way of Water, as well, and worked with Cameron previously, along with his mentor, composer James Horner, on the first Avatar and Titanic.
He also has worked as a session musician and producer with artists like Whitney Houston, Barbara Streisand, Miley Cyrus and Celine Dion — he won a Grammy for Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic.
But even with his membership in the small club of Grammy winners, Franglen is more likely to bring up that he’s been a member of the American Federation of Musicians Local 47, the local professional musicians union, for more than three decades.
Recording the Avatar: Fire and Ash theme in Los Angeles was important to everyone on the production, Franglen says, as was bucking recent trends of scaling back film scores or using more electronic scoring than live orchestras.
“The Hollywood film score is something that we've all grown up with,” Franglen says. And it was important to him and the producers to keep the recording of the score in L.A. (the first and second Avatar scores were recorded here, as well) “because we are very much a part of not just the music community but the film community of L.A., which has been having a tough time recently, as we all know.”
“ I'm very proud of being able to keep the work here,” Franglen says. “And I think the quality of the work is shown in the score itself, which I'm exceedingly proud of.”
Avatar: Fire and Ash’s end-credits song, “Dream As One,” sung by Miley Cyrus and which Franglen co-wrote with Cyrus, Mark Ronson and Andrew Wyatt, recently was nominated for a Golden Globe. And the score for Avatar: The Way of Water earned Franglen a 2023 World Soundtrack Award.
How work for musicians in LA has declined and the ripple effects
When Franglen first came to L.A. as a session musician, he says there were seven full-time orchestras working every day. When he was working on pop records, Franglen says, the top guitarists would need to be booked three months in advance because they were so busy.
Today, Franglen says, there’s less and less work because of productions moving overseas.
The latest annual report from Film LA, the official film office for the LA region, found the number of scripted projects filmed in L.A. declined 14 percent from 2023 to 2024.
And while California expanded its Film & TV Tax Credit Program this year to help encourage productions to stay here, its effects aren’t yet known.
“The problem is [...] if you're going to film in Europe, then maybe you don't record the score in L.A.,” Franglen says. “ And eventually what happens is that if I want to hire the finest guitarist in the world, I know that he'll be available. I can probably ask him, ‘Would you be available this week or next?’ And he will say yes.”
While that can be wonderful in many ways, Franglen says, it also means less opportunities overall, including for musicians with less experience who might get a chance at a bigger gig if all the top musicians were as busy as they used to be.
“I'm seeing a lot of the faces that I know from when I was a session musician in my orchestra," Franglen says. "That's great. I'm very, very pleased to see them. But it also means that the turnover has not been as extensive as what one would've expected, and that turnover is important.”
More new players coming in, Franglen says, helps ensure that recording work for movies like Avatar — and smaller scale films too — can stay in Los Angeles for years to come.
Mariana Dale
explores and explains the forces that shape how and what kids learn from kindergarten to high school.
Published December 18, 2025 5:00 AM
In California, an estimated 1.8 million children are part of a family where at least one parent has difficulty speaking English.
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Brian Feinzimer
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Topline:
In California, an estimated 1.8 million children are part of a family where at least one parent has difficulty speaking English. The experience of kids translating for their family members is called "language brokering.” It can feel burdensome but also build empathy.
Children's book tackle the bilingual experience: Little Bird Laila is the story of a young girl with a big job — translating between the English in her everyday life and the Chinese her parents speak. And it turns out, this wasn’t the only SoCal-created picture book on the subject this year. Manhattan Beach author Maritere Rodriguez Bellas and local publisher Lil’ Libros created the bilingual Tío Ricky Doesn't Speak English.
Read on ... for an interview with the authors about why it was so important to tell these stories.
Little Bird Laila by Kelly Yang
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This year, as South Gate librarian Stephanie Lien reviewed new picture books for the LA County Library’s shelves, she found a story that reflected her own childhood.
Little Bird Laila is the story of a young girl with a big job — translating between the English in her everyday life and the Chinese her parents speak.
“ I know every kid who may be like a first-generation immigrant who has parents who don't speak English that well — they've done the same thing,” Lien said. “I know I did it as a kid.”
In California, an estimated 1.8 million children are part of a family where at least one parent has difficulty speaking English. The experience of kids translating for their family members is called "language brokering.” It can feel burdensome but also build empathy.
“ You get annoyed,” Lien said. “But … [I realized] they need help, just like I do.”
And it turns out, this wasn’t the only SoCal-created picture book on the subject this year. Manhattan Beach author Maritere Rodriguez Bellas and local publisher Lil’ Libros created the bilingual Tío Ricky Doesn't Speak English. (Thanks to MiJa Books co-founder Stephanie Moran Reed for the heads up!)
"Little Bird Laila" and "Tío Ricky Doesn't Speak English"
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Erin Hauer and Ross Brenneman
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Find these books
Consider your local library or shopping in person at one of the many local children's bookstores in the L.A. area. We include a list of some of our favorites here.
You can also purchase them at BookShop.org, which supports independent bookstores.
LAist sat down with both authors to understand how they brought these stories to life and what they hope families find between the pages.
These excerpts are from separate interviews with Maritere Rodriguez Bellas and Kelly Yang.
Author Kelly Yang.
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Jessica Sample
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Author Maritere Rodriguez Bellas.
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LAist: What compelled you to become an author?
Bellas: Over three decades ago, when I was raising my kids, there was really very little information or education about bilingual parenting.
I grew up with Spanish and English, and then I went to school and I learned a third language, French. While doing that, I met people from all kinds of cultures, and I realized what a gift it was to be able to communicate in all these languages and learn about all these cultures.
Yang: I have been writing for many, many years — pretty much since I was a little kid — but wasn't really sure if I could do it as a profession. I would go to the library, and I would look at the back of books, and I didn't really see anyone who looked like me, so I didn't really know if this was a possibility for someone like me. I loved telling stories. I come from an immigrant background, and my parents and I moved here [from Tianjin, China] when I was 6 years old. Stories were really big in our family, as a way to keep ourselves motivated and paint a brighter future for our lives.
Where did the idea of your book come from?
Yang: [Little Bird Laila] mirrors my own childhood experience. To this day, I am the one dealing with pretty much all of the property tax filings — anything that has to do with English, even though my parents actually do speak English. But this is just kind of an inherited job that I'm unfortunately tenured for now.
As a kid, it was very aggravating. I didn't want to have to do all these other things. When we grow up with parents who really need our help, we don't really have a choice.
I learned that there were things that were pretty powerful about it too. Everyone kind of depended on me. I also got to translate things in my own favor. So for example, when I would go to teacher-parent conferences — and obviously I had a lot of grammar mistakes and spelling mistakes when I was a kid — I would just tell my mom, ‘Kelly is doing an amazing job.’
I learned that there were, you know, two sides of the coin. Yes, there's a lot of work. It can be a big pain, but there were also benefits too.
The idea was always that the child, when he or she reads the book, would think, ‘Oh, it's really not a chore to translate. It's really an act of kindness and love and I'm proud to be bilingual.’
— Maritere Rodriguez Bellas
Bellas: In 2017, I was asked to write my first children's book. I did not intend my career to end up as a children's book author, but I wrote that book, and while I was writing it, I kept thinking, ‘This is the book that my kids didn't have when they were growing up.’
I truly believe having raised multicultural kids, the more we expose children to different cultures and different languages, the better adults they're going to be in their future — compassionate, empathetic, respectful. And those are the virtues that I wanna ... show and I want parents to go after when they're raising their little pequeñitos.
Fast forward to 2022, when Bellas reached out to local bilingual book publisher Patty Rodriguez (Lil’ Libros) with a few ideas for children’s books.
Bellas: One of the ideas was a boy that had to translate for his grandmother, and she called me on the phone right away, and she’s like, ‘This spoke to me because that was me.’
The little boy in Tío Ricky Doesn't Speak English is Puerto Rican, and throughout the story, there are little hints at his identity. For example, he plays dominoes with his uncle and there’s a bag of plantain chips on the table. Why were those details important to include?
Bellas: I wanted my Puerto Rican culture to be highlighted. It's important to me. My kids didn't have that. They spent every summer for, I don't know, 12 years in a row in Ponce, Puerto Rico. So they grew up with the flavors and the smells and the noise and all that from our culture. But they didn't have it once we were back home. I couldn't read them a book where they could actually see themselves.
I also want to share with children from all cultures. I want them to learn about my little island wherever they are.
It's OK to open up and share that we don't have all the answers or we don't know all of the skills.
— Kelly Yang
At one point in Little Bird Laila, the girl realizes she can teach her parents English, even though she hasn’t quite perfected the language herself. Why did you include this uncertainty?
Yang: I just wanna be real to the authentic experience of someone who is still learning. And there is a lot of self-doubt, right? You're a learner, but you're still able to teach other people even though you are a learner. And I wanted to honor that — that people felt that they could, that they had permission, that they could do it. Because I definitely wasn't perfect at speaking or writing or reading or any of it, but ... there were things I could still give.
What do you hope families take away from your book?
Yang: The central theme for all my books is to hope that people feel seen and that they find the humor and the heart in the story because there's a lot of funny moments and there's a lot of deeply emotional moments too. We really need to cherish those moments. Whatever we can do to spend time together as a family, right?
It's OK to open up and share that we don't have all the answers or we don't know all of the skills. There are tons of things I tell my kids like, I don't know. I don't know how to navigate that app. Right? Or whatever it is. There's lots of things I don't know, and it's OK to share that, and it's OK to be vulnerable together, and it's OK to learn together.
Bellas: The idea was always that the child, when he or she reads the book, would think, ‘Oh, it's really not a chore to translate. It's really an act of kindness and love and I'm proud to be bilingual.’
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FBI deputy director Dan Bongino said today that he plans to step down from the bureau in January.
The backstory: Bongino was an unusual pick for the No. 2 post at the FBI, a critical job overseeing the bureau's day-to-day affairs traditionally held by a career agent. Neither Bongino nor his boss, Kash Patel, had any previous experience at the FBI.
What he said: In a statement posted on X, Bongino thanked President Trump, Attorney General Pam Bondi and FBI Director Kash Patel "for the opportunity to serve with purpose." Bongino did have previous law enforcement experience, as a police officer and later as a Secret Service agent, as well as a long history of vocal support for Trump.
FBI deputy director Dan Bongino said Wednesday he plans to step down from the bureau in January.
In a statement posted on X, Bongino thanked President Trump, Attorney General Pam Bondi and FBI Director Kash Patel "for the opportunity to serve with purpose."
Bongino was an unusual pick for the No. 2 post at the FBI, a critical job overseeing the bureau's day-to-day affairs traditionally held by a career agent. Neither Bongino nor his boss, Patel, had any previous experience at the FBI.
Bongino did have previous law enforcement experience, as a police officer and later as a Secret Service agent, as well as a long history of vocal support for Trump.
Bongino made his name over the past decade as a pro-Trump, far-right podcaster who pushed conspiracy theories, including some involving the FBI. He had been critical of the bureau, embracing the narrative that it had been "weaponized" against conservatives and even calling its agents "thugs."
His tenure at the bureau was at times tumultuous, including a clash with Justice Department leadership over the administration's handling of the Jeffrey Epstein files.
But it also involved the arrest earlier this month of the man authorities say is responsible for placing two pipe bombs near the Democratic and Republican committee headquarters, hours before the assault on the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.
In an unusual arrangement, Bongino has had a co-deputy director since this summer when the Trump administration tapped Andrew Bailey, a former attorney general of Missouri, to serve alongside Bongino in the No. 2 job.
President Trump praised Bongino in brief remarks to reporters before he announced he was stepping down."Dan did a great job," Trump said. "I think he wants to go back to his show."
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In his roughly 20-minute address tonight from the Diplomatic Reception Room, President Donald Trump broke little new ground, restating messages his White House has been pushing for months: that current economic problems can still be blamed on former President Joe Biden, and that Trump's second term in office has thus far been a massive success.
Anything new?: The president announced one new policy, saying that nearly 1.5 million military service members will be receiving a "special warrior dividend" of $1,776, a reference to the nation's founding in 1776. Trump said the money will arrive "before Christmas" and that "the checks are already on the way."
President Trump opened a primetime address to the nation on Wednesday with a message intended to reassure Americans.
"Eleven months ago, I inherited a mess, and I am fixing it," he said at the start of his speech.
However, in his roughly 20-minute address from the Diplomatic Reception Room, Trump broke little new ground, restating messages his White House has been pushing for months: that current economic problems can still be blamed on former President Joe Biden, and that Trump's second term in office has thus far been a massive success.
Indeed, Trump took a familiar, hyperbolic tone in describing his term.
"Over the past 11 months, we have brought more positive change to Washington than any administration in American history," he said.
The address had the feel of a Trump rally speech, without the rally. Unlike the often sedate primetime addresses of past presidents, Trump spoke loudly throughout his speech, at times seeming to shout.
The president did announce one new policy, saying that nearly 1.5 million military service members will be receiving a "special warrior dividend" of $1,776, a reference to the nation's founding in 1776. Trump said the money will arrive "before Christmas" and that "the checks are already on the way."
Trump spoke as his approval rating on the economy has hit a new low of 36%, according to the latest NPR/PBS News/Marist Poll. The poll found that the cost of living in particular is weighing on Americans. Fully 45% said prices are their top economic concern right now, far ahead of the next-highest category — housing prices — at 18%.
In addition, the poll found that two-thirds of Americans are "very" or "somewhat concerned" about the impact of tariffs on their personal finances.
Nevertheless, in his address, Trump continued to tout tariffs as a major cause of the economic accomplishments he sought to highlight. That's despite the fact that the various tariffs President Trump has unilaterally imposed are driving prices higher, as Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell reported last week. He told reporters that inflation growth is happening entirely in goods (as opposed to services), and that the growth is "entirely in sectors where there are tariffs."
Though the president highlighted few new policies, he did tease that in the new year he would announce "some of the most aggressive housing reform plans in American history."
Trump also told Americans that better economic times are ahead, stressing that Americans will receive tax refunds from his "big, beautiful bill" next year.
Though he's recently mocked Democrats' focus on affordability, their focus on pocketbook issues is seen as why they swept key off-year elections in November. And the president has tried to address the issue, recently hitting the road to make his economic case. He pitched supporters in Pennsylvania last week by promising bigger tax returns in April thanks to his policies, as well as promoting "Trump accounts" for children born between 2025-2028.
Trump will have another opportunity to talk directly to voters on Friday, when he will deliver a speech in Rocky Mount, North Carolina.
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