At Sheryl Sandberg’s talk the other week, she asked the audience a question from her book: “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

It’s a great question, and one about which I’ve been thinking since. Am I afraid? If so, of what am I afraid?

Coincidentally, a friend of mine is a successful VC and has decided to step back and instead pursue a career path in executive coaching. Using a framework and methodology from Harvard, I’m the first beta customer. The point of the sessions is to release someone’s full potential by identifying and then overcoming your greatest personal fears. We’ve only met up twice so far, but it’s been pretty cool.

What’s particularly interesting is that I’m starting to realize that my biggest fear, deep down and which took some unearthing, is to avoid a rough five-year patch in my life starting in 2nd grade.

You see, we had left the U.S. to move back to Indonesia, but shortly thereafter, my mother became very ill and almost died a few times in front of my eyes (her kidneys had failed, which led to numerous complications). My sister and I were living with a childless aunt who didn’t have a clue about parenting and was pretty harsh.

We were enrolled in a local school, where our American accents made us seem foreign. The culture shock was insane: brutal heat and humidity, no air conditioning, insane traffic, and social customs far different from the inner-city world of Brooklyn.

After a few months, we then moved back to the U.S. so that my mother could get better medical care. My parents spent a lot of time away from us while at the hospital, whilst yet another childless-and-harsh aunt took care of me and sister.

So, clearly, our world had changed drastically. My mother was the life of the party, cooked like a fiend and kept the house neat and bright. As she struggled for her life, and later, went through dialysis treatments to keep her alive but depleted and depressed, our home became quiet, we ate a lot of junk food, and the house was a pigsty.

Our lives were in a holding pattern, and disaster always seemed to loom around the corner. My mother frequently went to see her doctors, and you never knew if the latest blood test or examination would show a worsening condition or hint at end-of-life. The uncertainty was pretty constant and dis-comforting.

I remember as a child thinking to myself that I better shape my future. In third grade, for example, I cooked Thanksgiving dinner. It sucked. But, I didn’t want to go without, and I thought, “Well, who else is going to cook it if I don’t?” Did I really want take-out, junk food or frozen food for Thanksgiving dinner?

Thankfully, things changed when my mother received a kidney transplant, but since donor kidneys have a limited half-life, she was always worried that her health would go again. Life always felt tense and precarious to me as a child.

Perhaps it’s why I work a lot and have a sense of urgency. I’ve seen that bad things can happen to good people. Time is precious.

It’s a good thing that I made friends easily, for that let me play at other people’s houses and see brighter households. I encountered parents who went to their children’s sports games and practices, asked about their grades, and seemed really interested in their kids’ lives.

I saw home-cooked meals and clean homes. I saw stability. I’m sure those families had flaws, too, but to me, they seemed like glimpses from a Norman Rockwell painting, like the one above.

And, all that is what I wanted for my future children.

I’m not sure how else these personal experiences have shaped me, as I’ll find out more in the coming sessions with my friend. And, I know that sharing all of this personal stuff might be TMI for some of you. But, I think a first step in overcoming a fear is to name it and put it out there.

And, I’ve just done that. I’m very grateful to my friend.

(This is a re-post of a blog entry I wrote a year ago):

This is a hard post to write. Today is May 12. It is the day of my mother’s birthday. She also died, at age 60, on May 12. That day also happened to be Mother’s Day. It was a difficult day with too many coincidences.

Soon after she passed away, I was at the funeral home. My mom kept in shoe boxes every greeting card my sister and I had ever given her. She had asked my sister that the boxes be placed in her casket after her death. I didn’t know about either the boxes or her request, until after my mother died.

And so, there I was, waiting for the funeral director, going through card after card as I relived past decades. There were hand-drawn cards from our youth, with unsteady writing and crayon pictures. There were also the polished store-bought cards I had sent as an adult. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. Too many memories. In shoe boxes.

The director came up to me. I stood up and handed the boxes to him. Giving away those cards was hard.

Afterwards, I drove back from the funeral home, and I thought about many things. In the silence, I thought about how my mother didn’t want to emigrate to the U.S. and leave her family, friends and culture. I remembered the very hard life we had when we first moved here with just $1,500. I remembered well our dilapidated apartment in a beaten-down part of Brooklyn. But, in the end, my mother persevered. She wanted a better life for her children.

As I drove, I regretted that I had never thanked my mother for moving to the U.S. It was a long drive.

Growing up, my mother used to say to me: “Please work hard at whatever you do for a living.” It was her polite way of saying: “I’ve given up a lot so that you might have more–so, don’t waste my sacrifice.”

Why do I write this? First, I think many VCs like what they do because we really identify with people who want to chase the American Dream. I definitely do.

To me, being a VC is not just a job. It’s personal.

Second, I find that many entrepreneurs can point to a person, who unwittingly planted the seeds of entrepreneurship in them early in life. I have met with probably over 5,000 founders in my venture capital career. They come from many backgrounds and areas of life. Not everyone shares why they are starting a new company, but when they do, the stories are fascinating. I find that these intensely personal “drivers of drive” are very inspiring.

I’d like to close with two last items. First, if you’re an entrepreneur, I’d love to hear about why you are one. You can always get a job working for someone else, but yet, you’ve decided to start something new. Why?

Second, to my mother, I hope this somehow gets to you: a very belated and deeply-felt thank you….

I’m home alone with the children this weekend, as my wife is out of town. What I thought was seasonal allergies has instead become a full-blown cold. I don’t feel well at all.

I’ve cancelled one of the kids’ weekend activities, but I will still be driving them around to some sports lessons this morning and am in charge of their meals.

Now, I’m lucky. These are “first-world problems,” I know. If I don’t have the energy to cook, I just call a pizza place or a restaurant delivery service. We have the money to do so.

This experience, though, makes me wonder as to how single parents do this job, day after day. And, if the single parent is working at a series of minimum wage jobs, how do they keep their personal insanity and create a great homelife for their kids? My guess is that many don’t.

So, here’s a personal nod to single moms and dads everywhere. I do not know what you’re going through. But, I want to say that I admire your mental toughness. I hope your children are showing their gratitude to you. I hope you hang in there.

Today has been very busy. Frankly, it’s nice to have a normal day, after last week’s bombings, anxiety, and jubilation.

I also received the nice picture below, which reminded me of life before the attacks:

A few weeks ago, I decided to give away Red Sox tickets through a lottery (more here). One recipient was a veteran, and the other, was a family facing some hard times.

Regarding the latter, the mother was nice enough to send me the above picture of her son at Fenway Park. I had arranged for him and his father to get a tour and be on the field during batting practice.

She wrote:

[My son] had the time of his life last night. He loved the tour. He even caught a foul ball. Here is a picture of him.

I love this kid’s smile. I’m hoping he now knows that strangers can care.

As an entire city, we in Boston experienced that last week.  Strangers killed strangers. So, then, it was fitting that strangers helped other strangers get to the emergency room after the bombings. And, 9,000 troopers and police raced around to find terrorists to protect citizens whom they didn’t personally know. We tried to balance, as strangers, bad deeds with good ones.

I think there’s something very powerful when we can show kindness to others. For me, after such an insane week here in Boston, it feels great to give someone joy.

It’s healing.

Thank God. It’s over. The bombers have been caught.

It’s early Saturday morning. For the first time since Monday’s bombing, I woke up with peace and joy. I’ll always remember last night’s spontaneous jubilation in the streets, and the rousing applause and cheers the police received. Here’s an incredible (and short) video, which a friend shared on Facebook:

I also still shake my head in disbelief. How lucky am I that my youngest child and I didn’t linger in Boston on Marathon Day? Did I just witness an episode of the TV show “24″? Was all that real: bombings, carjacking, a city locked down, copters loudly circling two miles from our house, gun battles amidst tossed grenades in the streets, etc.? Too insane.

Yesterday, with our town in lockdown, was a long day (more here). It was quite an experience to hear voices on the Boston Police scanner become more subdued as troopers began their 18th straight hour of duty.

But, they kept at it. True grit.

I’m immensely grateful to the police. How to buy drinks for 9,000 brave men and women? What incredible fortitude to go into house after house knowing there could be a well-armed terrorist there to ambush you?

Too much to fathom, too grateful to say much more.

So, I end with this: God bless America, and let freedom ring! #BostonStrong

We are only two miles away from where the second suspect may be hiding. You can hear the helicopters overhead.

I woke up at 5.30 am ready to start my day and was shocked to read that our entire area is in lockdown mode.  I’m listening to the Boston police scanner and monitoring Twitter. What’s happening right now is too surreal to articulate.

Since all schools and businesses are closed, and meetings have been cancelled, we are all huddled at home, monitoring the news and also trying not to think about near misses. For example, a close friend of ours is usually on the same street block during the time where/when the MIT security officer was shot last night. Her daughter dives at MIT, and she parks on that same street to pick her up–and, they often walk around afterwards to get a snack.

It’s a truly eerie time.

I’m grateful to the 9,000 people out there looking for the second suspect and who are risking their lives to do so.

Here’s a helpful summary (from entrepreneur Wayne Chang) of what’s happened so far as of 6.50 am:

Quick recap (pt 1):- 7-Eleven robbery- MIT officer fatally shot- MBTA officer in severe condition- Mercedes stolen

— Wayne Chang (@Wayne) April 19, 2013

Quick recap (pt 2):- Firefight with explosives in Watertown- Suspect #1 had explosives strapped to chest, detonated when detained

— Wayne Chang (@Wayne) April 19, 2013

Quick recap (pt 3):- Police, SWAT, DHS, etc set up perimeter, with Watertown Mall as command center.- Waited for daylight for advantage.

— Wayne Chang (@Wayne) April 19, 2013

Quick recap (pt 4):- Motion sensor went off at 100 Talcott Ave. Suspected safe house.- Ongoing street by street, house by house sweep.

— Wayne Chang (@Wayne) April 19, 2013

Quick recap (pt 5):- Public transit shut down.- All res in Boston & surrounding cities to remain indoors.- All businesses shut down.

— Wayne Chang (@Wayne) April 19, 2013

First responders (John Tlumacki, Boston Globe)

It’s the day after the bombings at the Boston Marathon. I’m trying to do business as usual, but it’s not that easy.

My youngest child and I were in Boston yesterday for the festivities. It would have been very easy to ask, “Hey, do you want to cheer the runners at the finish line?” It’s something I’ve done in years past.

I’m thinking a lot about the families affected by the blasts, and it’s very difficult. The local media, both print and radio, are filled with voices both somber and enraged. As Brad Feld posted today, I too shed tears.

I used to work and live in the area where the bombs were. I go there for business meetings and events quite often. The whole area is in lockdown mode.

I’m grateful that first responders immediately jumped into action to protect and save (the above photo was taken right after the first blast). I’m grateful that the medical tent was so close to the finish line, and that many of the world’s best hospitals are in Boston.

I hope whoever planned these attacks will be caught soon. I hope they realize that nearly all of the non-professional runners in the marathon run to raise money for various charities. In other words, the runners weren’t running just for themselves.

I hope the perpetrators know that the attack happened on Patriots’ Day in Boston, which commemorates the start of the American Revolution. In Boston, that day is a celebration, meant to remember freedom and a fight against tyranny.

Clearly, that fight continues now. So, on this day, we are all Patriots, and we are all Bostonians.

Please consider giving to the victims and their families. The tech community, via Fundraise.com, has set up a campaign here. I just gave, and please do the same. It may not seem like a lot, but the kindness of strangers, a sign of real love, will mean much to these families.

I blogged earlier in the week that I was lucky to get two Red Sox tickets, and that I wanted to give them away to a family in financial need or to a veteran.  I also put up a post on Craigslist.

After 1 hour, I deleted the Craigslist post.  I had quickly received over 30 requests, some of which were comments to the original blog post (see here).  Frankly, I was touched by the many stories of hardship, but also, admired their perseverance.  This motivated my wife and me to donate some of our personal tickets, so that we could give away two sets.

We also decided that a lottery would be the best way to assign the tickets.  I’m happy to announce that one winner is a veteran from southeastern Massachusetts (photo above), and here’s what he wrote:

I’m a Marine and Army veteran with time served in Iraq. Been a long time since I’ve been to a Red Sox game. Got out of the Army in 06 due to a disability and moved back to southeast MA in 2011. Thanks.

The second winner is a working parent, who wrote this about her son (photo above):

I live in Arlington public housing. My son is a very sports minded boy. He loves all sports and can talk sports to anyone and just about any sport. My husband has had a heart attack and has a defibrillator and pacemaker and stent in place. He is unable to work. With all the medications he is on we find it hard to do anything extra with our boys. I do work full time and do my best to keep everyone happy at home. My older son would be so excited to go to a red sox game. Something he has never done. Go Sox! Thanks for your time.

I’m hopeful that the tickets will spread joy.

2013 Home Opener.

I normally don’t go to Red Sox games during the work week, but I try to make an exception during the Home Opener. It’s a fun time.

This year, I brought with me as a guest a religious brother, who is a life-long Sox fan and normally couldn’t afford to go to the game. It was a fun game, particularly because he enjoyed it so much. It reminded me of how fun it is to give and not just receive.

Coincidentally, I was at a breakfast gathering today, at which a member of the Red Sox front office spoke. He gave me two tickets for the April 22 game vs. the Oakland A’s. The seats are in the Grandstand 19 section, which means they’re behind home plate.

I’d like to give away the tickets and spread some good cheer. Ideally, the recipient would be a veteran or a person who normally would find the game a financial stretch.

So, if you or someone you know would like the tickets, please explain why below in the comments section of this post.  I’ll read the comments and inform the winner on Friday.

Go Sox!

Lent and Easter are a special time for me. It’s a time of re-birth.

I’ve written in the past about a rough patch in my life in my early-20s. I had everything you’re “supposed” to have: a fancy job, an obscenely high salary, many friends, a girlfriend. I had a nice apartment in mid-town Manhattan. I had just graduated college with a fancy Ivy League degree.

But, I lived for myself.  It was all work, work, work. If I wasn’t pulling all-nighters, I didn’t get home until 11 pm or so.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Working hard is a good thing. But, I didn’t feel that my job in finance actually had any meaning for me. And, the harder I worked at a job I hated, the more selfish, brittle and narcissistic I became. I felt that I was becoming a person I didn’t want to be.

I felt that I was existing but not living. I was stuck.

It was then that I started going back to Church. I distinctly remember the Ash Wednesday Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and a particularly haunting Good Friday service at a parish near Columbus Circle. I started to ask some questions.  Would I die for someone else? And, if Someone Without Sin died for me, how could and should I respond?

The implications of these questions propelled me to make some tough choices.  I decided to quit my job, break up with my girlfriend, and move to Boston. I gave notice to my employers in the spring, months in advance, so that they would have plenty of time to recruit someone. They rewarded me with a $0 bonus. I needed the money, but it seemed like a do-able price to pay.  I wanted out.

And, life became normal again.

So, spring and Easter each year remind me of my re-birth.  I’m so grateful that I met my now-wife a few months after arriving in Boston. I’m grateful that I have healthy children and a job that I love. Some days are great, and some days suck. But, my life is full of meaning.  And, that makes all the difference in the world.

A Happy Easter to all.

I wrote a few days ago about Passover and how it’s an important story about freedom and one that I wanted to share with my children (more here).

Though I’m not Jewish, the “feast of freedom” and its recounting of sacrifice and emancipation is a story that my family, in a smaller way, experienced. In particular, I wanted to let my children know that freedom is not free and past family members paid a high price.

So, I made a special brisket recipe, and we talked over the meal.

I later received the following email, from a non-Jewish friend. After reading my blog post, he too decided to cook a special meal and share stories from the past. I found his story very moving, and so, I want to share it:

Chag Sameach! Decided to start our own Passover tradition…. Over dinner, I shared with the girls my story of how my parents and their families fled China to Taiwan, losing everything in the process.  And then how my parents sacrificed everything to bring May and me to America, to afford us the opportunities that this GREAT country offers. I told them about how we were effectively poor (sleeping on sheets on flooring, because we didn’t even have mattresses, much less a bed); how I was thrust into school despite not speaking nor reading a single word of English; how learning was held important above all else; how my parent’s first thought was always the future of their children.

I want my daughters to understand, in a similar way to how Jews want their children to understand, the importance of tradition, of family, of escaping and traveling to new lands for freedom, for opportunity, and for the future of their children.  Fighting back the tears, I managed to get it all out.  And I hope that this will be a tradition we repeat every year on Passover.  To my mom and (late) dad — thank you.

I hope that you too are celebrating freedom and remembering family members from the past who gave you freedom.

I meet with many people, but a meeting last week really stays with me.

I met up with a young entrepreneur, who had started a company and is now working on a new idea. His previous company has gone through some ups and downs. They received great venture funding and were off to the races.

The company received an early offer to sell, but the “more senior” founder didn’t want to exit. Since then, their space has been flooded with competitors. At the same time, the company has gone through some culture issues. So, the early group of founders and developers have all left.

It was a pretty dramatic story to hear.

But, what stays with me is this entrepreneur’s sense of “authenticity.” Now, I’ve blogged about this in the past (here and here). I define “authenticity” for me in this way:

• Living life in a way that is real and meaningful in all areas and at all times
• No spin, no masks
• Being the same person at work as you are at home
• Living your values consistently

It took me many years to get to that definition, and, to have the courage to strive for it and not compromise. But, this entrepreneur, in his early-20s, has already figured it out.

He talked about how he had worked at a private equity firm one summer, and in spite of the huge dollars they dangled in front of him, he declined their offer for a full-time job.

He talked about the decisions that he made at his first start-up. It was clear that he was willing to buck conventional wisdom, but they were based on deep values, and not just well thought-out plans.

Also, his personal authenticity made him unpopular with some at his start-up. This person said that it put him in some lonely situations. He was in fear at times. But, he was cool with it all. He felt he did the right things in the end.

It was a great meeting. How do you define personal authenticity?

You hear a lot as a VC. Often, conversations turn to family backgrounds. Very often, founders talk about their families’ past journeys for, and towards, freedom:

“My father’s family bribed their way out of Poland when the borders closed. They eventually made it out of Europe. My Dad returned to fight as a member of the Polish Free Army.”

“I’m one of eight children. We left Vietnam and our family separated into two groups when we got to America.”

“I grew up in a prisoner camp in Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge.”

These are stories to which I can relate. We’re an ethnic Chinese family from Indonesia. There is a lot of discrimination and violence there. So, it was one reason we left for the U.S.

So, as we approach Passover, which really is a “feast of freedom,” I think of all those who risk everything to get out. I think about Israel, thousands of years ago. I think of Haitians, trying to leave crushing poverty. Sudanese, who are shot at, on their way to Church.

I’m making a brisket this morning for dinner (see above photo). We’re not Jewish and I know that the feasting doesn’t start until Monday night. But, I want to do something to tell my children about their own family’s journey towards freedom, and how in that same quest for liberty, we are united with our Jewish friends and all immigrants.

I also want to tell my children that freedom is not free. Someone, at some time, sacrificed a great deal to achieve freedom for his/her family. To me, liberty truly is precious.

Chag Pesach Same’ach!

Well, we’re back. I’ve been quiet on the blog front because I didn’t work Tuesday to Friday. My children are on different spring break schedules, and I took two of them to NYC.

We had a great time and stayed at a hotel in the Times Square area. I took them to some of my favorite restaurants. Also, we saw The Lion King on Broadway (really impressive) and toured some museums.

During our walks, we passed by the office building where I used to work and the parish where I used to attend Mass. It’s funny how so much time can go by, but a city block can transport you back to a point in time decades ago.

So much has happened in my life since I last lived in NYC. I was single then, just out of college, in between relationships, and not sure what I wanted to have for a career. Frankly, it was a challenging time, as I’ve blogged before.

Now, the stresses in life are different, and, somehow, they seem more manageable. I think that happens as you age. Whether it’s perspective, maturity or the realization that you’ll make it through the tough times, I’m so much happier now than when I was in my early-20s.

I don’t feel I have more answers now, but I just have more faith that things will all work out. Or, that the difficult times will eventually end.

There are cycles in life. If you’re in a down part of your life, I promise you: things eventually get better.

Well, it’s hard to believe it’s been a year since I started blogging. I’ve really enjoyed it.

I’ve written 178 posts in 12 months, which I feel is a healthy but manageable pace. Most important, it has not felt like work. My family reads my blog regularly, and they’re the reason why I started blogging in the first place.

Also, I took a quick look at Google Analytics (screen shot below) to get a better sense for audience measurement. I was surprised that over 26,000 people have visited the site, and that generated over 52,000 page views. That’s a lot more than I would have expected.

I was also surprised by how many repeat visits the site gets, with 28% of visits come from returning visitors:

I also looked at which posts generated the most traffic:

• I list below the Top 10 most popular pages (#2 is the home page)
• The posts on how VCs pay themselves and structure power within their firms have been the most viewed. In particular, “How Are VCs Paid?” generated the most traffic and that single post generated 32% of all the page views on the site.  Coming in second was “VC Economics and Control Unveiled”
• Surprisingly, also in the Top 10 was a post on “Why You Shouldn’t be an EIR at a VC Firm”

It’s pretty cool what you can track with a free tool like Google Analytics.

Last, I really appreciate all the encouragement from you all regarding my blog posts. I write about a lot of personal stuff, in addition to the usual VC-blog posts about start-ups and innovation, and so, your feedback has meant a lot to me. Thank you!