Tag Archives: memories

Nostalgia and Bad Dreams

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A sunny March afternoon. There are so many things that I could be doing. I just don’t feel like it. I’m like a petulant child having a quiet little tantrum by myself. I wonder how and what you all out there are doing. Probably all better and having more fun than me. I am reminded of summer holidays of long ago in Maidstone. The town is super quiet. School is out. The farmers are in the field. Everyone else is at the lake or just out of town. Everyone, except us, the Chinese people running the cafes. I’m remembering how lonely and isolated I felt as a child and teenager. We seldom went anywhere except to North Battleford to the dentist or optometrist when needed.

I wonder if that is why I don’t like fun. I prefer cuddling up at home with a book. We didn’t have a library in Maidstone back then. A library on a bus comes once every so often. I could also order books from the library in Regina. They send them on the Greyhound bus. The books I remember are Little House on the Prairie, Trixie Belden and the Hardy Boys. I love reading movie star magazines and Superman comic books. I would stop at the corner store on the way home from school and browse the racks. Sometimes I would get a pack of gum, the ones with movie star cards in them. One summer I bought Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities at the drugstore. I was in high school then and desperate for reading material. We didn’t have Facebook then. It was a hard read. That I remember.

Now there’s too much to read and all at my fingertips. I’m over satiated by Donald Trump buffooneries. Surely he must know and hear what he is saying. I am wondering if they are all a deliberate act to draw attention away from something more serious and sinister. Surely if he carries on much longer, could they not impeach him for mental derangement? Seriously I find everything too absurd to be real. Did Trump really call Gavin Newsom the president of the United States? Did he forget who himself was? I wonder if I had fallen down the rabbit hole and sustained a head injury. And all this is just a bad dream. I wonder how I can wake up.

Slow Living

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It is March 8th. It rained this morning. It is day 15 of #the100dayproject. I have been working a little on it each day. My cold is still hampering me. I can’t go great guns with anything. However, I am happier with this slower pace of living and sewing. I am enjoying the process more. I have 5 completed logcabin blocks and 2 partial ones. I continued to be my usual disorganized self, not having my fabrics sorted to darks and lights. I don’t have all the strips cut either. I am in continuous state of search for the best strip.

It is a grey dismal day.This world is going nowheres fast except maybe to war. I am astounded by this world we’re in, aren’t you? I feel as if we are in a fake reality show. The only trouble is, it is not fake. It is not a bad idea to stick my head in the sand, ignore all this madness and do the things that nourishes me. Wake me when it is all over.

I had coffee with my 94 year old father this afternoon. We talked about the times from way back. He still has a good memory. The very first house we lived in was behind the cafe. It was owned by the town doctor. The rent was $7/month. It had 2 rooms. The linoleum was peeling. The next house was by the highway, across from the railway station. It was owned by grain elevator company. The rent was $20/month.It was bigger but not really better. My foot went through the floor board in a bedroom.

It was good to have memories to share. We hadn’t shared or conversed much before. We had a laugh over the rent. Who would have thought I could do this with my father?

In Our Mother’s Closets

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January 30th, 2nd last day of the month and of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. It is the end of the day. I am tired. A busy productive day consisting of my sister and I taking our father to see the internal medicine doctor early in the morning.This past year has been many office, walkin-in and ER visits since our mother passed. We are all so vulnerable the first year after a significant death. And more so when the person is 94 and it is a spousal death.

We’ve all worked hard taking care of our father. The doctors commended our efforts. Our father is doing well now. They wouldn’t change a thing. They gave suggestions for possible things to do if such and such arise. And they will set up a follow up appointment in a month’s time. We are pleased that there will be a follow up and hope that it will hold up. Less doctor visits would be good.

There was still a lot of morning left after the appointment. We had planned to work on clearing more of our mother’s clothes before taking dad out for lunch. We hadn’t realized how much more there still was. This time wasn’t as emotionally difficult as the first closet we did last year. I even dare to say it was fun. We had alot of giggles and Oh my gods! as we pull out each item and tried them on. Our mother kept everything in very good condition. She must have kept all the things we had given her for Christmases and Mother’s Days. We never celebrate hers or dad’s birthdays either. We celebrated the kids’, her grandkids’ birthdays.

We got ambitious and went to the downstairs closets after lunch. Wow! There’s no need to go shopping. We could just shop at mom’s. She even kept some of our clothes for us. I pulled out the dress I sewed for my sister for her high school graduation. I had forgotten what it looked like. I couldn’t believe that it was me that sewed that dress. And I did it on my simple Kenmore from Sears. My sister couldn’t quite believe she could still get into the dress. Unfortunately she couldn’t quite zip it up in the back. Just one size too small.

I dropped 2 bags off at the clothing donation place. I have plans of using the cotton blouses to make another logcabin quilt. This one will be for my sister.

A Celebration Post

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It’s April 30th, the last day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I’m happy to be here at a happy ending. I achieved all that I set out to do. I kept it simple. I kept it easy. I showed up almost every day, missing just 3. I tried my best. I had a beginning, a middle and now an ending. It was nice to meet some new friends as well as reconnecting with past ones. What more could a girl ask for?

I’ve had a busy day starting with the gym in the morning. I worked the hula hoop and skip rope into my routine. It’s good to challenge myself with new stuff. I’ll see if practice does make for better. Then it was going for groceries and then lunch with my exercise buddies. You know lunch with the girls can last for a couple of hours. I was home for a few minutes when I got a text from my brother. Dad had fallen in the livingroom while he was there. He couldn’t get up by himself but was not hurt. Still I worried.

I went over to see for myself. He was lucky that my brother was there when he fell and lucky he was not hurt. I asked him to show me how he was on the floor so I can teach him how to get up. Good thing I had such good instructors at the Y gym on functional fitness. Dad was a good pupil. He was able to learn how to get into a position so he could use a piece of furniture to get himself up. After all that we had to go to the mall for a walk and a coffee. We ran into Mom’s coffee friends there and the time just went.

I’m home now, sitting with a chrysanthemum tea and tapping a few last words. I’m tired. It’s been a hard year but it’s been a good April. I’m glad I participated in this UBC. It’s helped me regain some peace and mental strength being here every day tapping on my keyboard and reading others’ offerings. Sorting through ideas, words and feelings have dispelled some brain fog. It’s good to be able to think clearly again. I feel blessed to be here now.

Thank you Paul for giving us this special place.

Summer Heat & Memories

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Another warm day but not the 34℃ of yesterday. 27℃ is plenty warm enough. The sun is somewhat hazy and there’s smoke in the air. I’m not feeling in a super mood. I’m trying to work through it. It’s a good thing that I have the Ultimate Blog Challenge to explore all this.

Have I ever mentioned that I have never loved summer? It goes way back to my childhood days growing up in Maidstone. We were one of maybe 3 Chinese families in town. We didn’t socialize much with the rest of the community being new immigrants. Our cafe was opened every day except Sunday, all year long. We never went anywhere except maybe North Battleford (an hour’s drive away) once in a blue moon for dentist, optometrist and maybe a little shopping.

Summer time the town seemed dead. The farmers were out farming. School was over. Seemed like everyone went to the lake or on holidays except us. I ordered books from the library which came on the Greyhound bus. I read alot of Laura Ingalls Wilder books, Trixie Beldon books, Hardy Boys books and alot of Superman comics and movie star magazines. I drew portraits of Elvis, Fabian and Ricky Nelson. I can’t remember what else I did during those long hot summers.

Another reason I did not care for summers was being hot, I couldn’t wear long sleeves or sweaters to hide the scar on my left arm. I got the scar when I was 2 years old. We were still in China then. I was scalded by a bowl of hot sweet syrup. It was winter and I had long sleeved top on. It was difficult to get it off. Doctors were not the common thing then. My burn would not heal for a long time. Someone advise taking me to a doctor. My arm healed, resulting in a large scar but I have full function. I didnot lose any range of motion but I did get teased.

I was very sensitive about it for a long time. I tried to imagine what it would feel like unscarred. I couldn’t since I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have the scar. I finally got over it when I became a nurse. All the uniforms were short sleeved. I was by then at the ripe age of 27/28. Took a long time to get over it. You can see dumb I was in this photo – how I turned my left arm in to hide the scar. I was not holding it naturally like my aunt behind me.

All these were long ago but feelings and memories linger still. They feel like part of my biology. But at least I understand the where, when and how. And I have this space to tap it onto the page. Then I don’t feel so bad.

BABY IT’S COLD OUTSIDE

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It’s is a very cold, cold day here in Saskatoon. This morning Environment Canada posted a temperature of -40℃. The wind chill made it feel like -53℃. Double and triple burrrrr! Made me think of the winters of 2009 and 2010 when Sheba and I did daily walks down by the river at the Sutherland dog park. The river was frozen over. We could walk on it. Sheba ran, of course. Steam rose from the river. I had icicles hanging in my nostrils.

The cold brought back these wonderful memories of our times down by the river. Tomorrow promises equally cold temperatures. I do love these times when I can just hunker down and just be. Feeling grateful I have shelter, heat and food. Day 12 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge in the bag!

STICKY RICE

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It’s a sunny Christmas Eve afternoon. There’s no sign of a white Christmas. I’m making sticky rice as my contribution to our family meal at my brother’s this evening. I’m not at all in a yuletide mood. But my mind is cast back to my childhood memories of winter solstice and New Year in China.

Though we have left China behind, my mother have kept some of the traditions alive. Now that she can no longer make the traditional dishes, she has instilled the love of Chinese food in me. Enough so that I can sort of fake a dish or two. There’s YouTube now with instructions for any dish you can think of. It’s too late for Winter Solstice but I can make rice dumplings for New Year’s. Chinese New Year would even be better. It would give me more time to prepare. Here’s an excellent video on how.

New Year was an exciting time for me as a child. All the aunties would get together on the eve and spend the night cooking up all kinds of pastries. I can still hear the murmur of their voices as they tend the fire and pots while I lay upstairs in bed, fighting sleep. It was a magical time. I would wake in the morning to find a new outfit to wear and a little red envelope.

Now back to my sticky rice. I use a fail-safe recipe by Amy and Jacky. It is cooking in the Instant Pot after a little mishap. I was forgetful and not paying attention. I started pouring water into the pot then realizing the liner pot was not in it! Lucky it was just a little water and it came out the bottom. I was afraid it might short circuit the electrical and wreck the pot. I used my hairdryer to blow dry everything. It worked. Saved for another day!

Instant Pot Chinese Sticky Rice

THE GOOD EARTH

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Funny how some things pop into your life. The other day, someone mentioned she read Pearl Buck’s The Good Earth. I am reminded that I do have it on my bookshelf and I have read it. But I cannot remember any of it. Then this morning, there’s an article about Pearl S. Buck on my Facebook feed. It was very interesting. It prompted me to search for the book. And I did find it, a little paperback costing $.95 published in 1973. It’s still in very good condition though the pages are yellow and the print small. It is a book that I had borrowed from a friend while I was visiting her in Vancouver many years ago. I’ve not returned it nor have read it, as I now discovered.

I don’t know why I hadn’t read it. It is quite good. I’ve read 5 chapters this morning. It reminded me of the China I knew. I am surprised that I remembered so much, having left when I was 6 years old. I felt quite at home in the story of the poor farmer, his wife and his father. I felt I was there with them, though we were not the poor farmers. I guess we were considered well off if not rich. We had this big house that my grandfather had built. It had 2 stories with a copula on top. It housed our family on one side and the other half was occupied by my grandfather’s brother’s family. The windows had metal shutters. The front door was also of metal. Our house had a courtyard surrounded by a wall.

Looking at the photo and the memories, it feel like it was someone else’s life. It also made me feel nostalgic and lonesome for that Chinese part of me that was left behind. Anyways, it is too late in the day to ponder and wander through the past. Perhaps I will have more time tomorrow. I feel very busy at this end of life. Time seems to tick slower when I was young. Now it’s speeding faster and faster like the end of a toilet roll.

OUR/MY STORY

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April 15th. The month is half gone. It felt like it’s just started. I’m showing up in this writing space for the Ultimate Blog Challenge even though I’m feeling melancholic. I hope it is not catchy. I don’t want to pass it on. I can blame it on the time of day. It’s 6:31pm. They say that after 3 pm our energy and mood goes south. It’s true for me. I’m a morning person now after years of being a night owl. The sun has set for me though the weather app says sunset is at 8 pm. Try to tell that to my body and mind.

I’m not ecstatic that I’m such a somber person. I would really like to have a different temperament. I envy those bouncy, bubbly life-of-the-party gals. But I just can’t make myself into one, or make myself like parties. I guess the next best thing is to accept myself as is and learn to like it/me. I’ve been drawing my life in the 100 day project challenge. I’m getting to know the lines and curves of mine and my family’s faces. I feel the stories of our lives through the drawings. Sometimes it makes me happy. Sometimes it makes me sad. It depends on the story.

The drawings evoke the loneliness of an immigrant family living in a small community. I’m speaking only from my own viewpoint. I’m feeling it more as a very matured adult. I don’t think I felt it when I was growing up and going to school. I remember vividly my first inkling. It was after the summer of Grade 12. Our family had moved to New York to be with my mother’s family. I decided to come back by myself to attend university in Saskatoon. My father was still in our town to sell our house. I went to some town celebrations at the fair grounds with a friend. It was there that I felt my first experience of not belonging, of not being noticed. That feeling comes and goes. I like to think that I was wrong but I’m not. Many years later, in the fair recent present, I have been back to my home town a few times. The people that I knew, except for a few classmates, do not know me or who my father was.

Every once in awhile a memory would arise and evoke a feeling. It is not lethal. It is good to remember my place and who I was/am in this world. I remember and I feel strong and happy to be the person I’ve been and the person I’ve become. It’s been and is a very good life.

WONDER

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January 12. The Ultimate Blog Challenge

I overdid the skiing today, going twice around the golf course. I was aiming to increase my endurance. I know I cannot get any faster. I know I am a tortoise. I felt pretty good after my second round. No sweat! I thought even though I was quite sweaty. I was counting on relaxing and stretching in our mobility class at the gym shortly after. I didn’t count on our instructor changing things around. The mobility class was yesterday. Today’s was on upper body which was not stretching or relaxing.

I am physically tired but I am relaxed after a long soak with epsom salt. My brain is too relaxed and a bit mushy. I am not sharp or focused. I caught an interesting podcast whilst soaking on Tapestry. In this episode Karen Armstrong talks about the value of wonder in a despairing world. Give it a listen if you have time. It is very interesting. It made me think about this morning on the ski trail. I love snapping photos. I want to capture the magic to hold and look at again. It is impossible, of course, but I still try.

It was very foggy today. The grey of the sky was so soft and velvety and the trees with the hoar frost…I was gazing at it all. Then a woman glided by. Her jacket was a peacock blue, so bright and luminous. So beautiful. I tried to capture the wonder of it. She glided away faster than I can dig my camera out of my ski pants. I resigned myself to watch the wonder and beauty of the moment. It did occur to me that I might be just a wonder, too, in my tangerine red ski jacket. I felt awe by the wonder of it.

There are many wonders around us and in our lives that can give our spirits a boost. Sometimes all we need to do is to stop, sit, listen, watch and remember. I’m thinking back again to March of 2011 and my memories of time in Ghana. I’m remembering some of the wonders of that time.

Last Week – March 31, 2011

I’m on a countdown of my days in Ghana.  In exactly one week I will be winging my way back home.  Before I came, someone asked me if I have been in a Third World country before.  I guess they were worried about how I will fare.  Or maybe it was because they were surprised on their first trip here and wanted me to be prepared.  And since I’ve been here, people have asked how do I like Ghana.  Does anything about it resonate with me?  Hard questions to answer.  Well, not hard to answer on a superficial level.  As a tourist it is easy to say that I love my stay here.  I can hear the ocean from my bed and the breezes are warm and soothing.  Everything is new to me….my physical surroundings, the people, the politics, the colours…..everything.

On a much more personal level, I am unable to tell what it is that I feel about Ghana.  I have not been homesick the time I’ve been away.  I have not missed my suspended life….the cold or snow.  I have not missed my work.  You can say that I am really away. I do miss my family and my Sheba.  At times, I would really like to have free running clean water from the faucet….water that I can drink and to brush and rinse my teeth with in abundance!  And I wouldn’t mind having hot water to shower or shampoo my hair with.  So, I’m learning to really appreciate what a valuable resource water is.  And I would be able to have that most of the time, had I been staying in an upscale hotel instead of an eco-lodge.  I’m not feeling that this has been a hardship or a deprivation.  It has been an experience.  I have a very privileged life back home.  And I can have a very privileged life here if I choose.  The question, of course, is do I wish such?  I have always enjoy hard work and being an independent woman.

One week left!  Impossible to know if I will miss Africa till I leave it and see..….