Sundays have become a sacred ritual for me.  It's my weekly dinner with dad.  A lot of times he'll be sitting by the living room window waiting for me.   As he gets ready to leave, I make sure he takes his cane along.  He hates the cane.  But some days he'll just slip out the door and "forgot" about it.  Of course I'll bring it along and he'll grumble a bit.  I always walk beside him now.  He knows our roles have reversed.  He's already told me he doesn't want to be a burden.  But I just go "Oh dad... don't be silly."  As he gets into my car,  I always put my hand over his head so he doesn't hit the roof of the car when he gets in. 

He kills me sometimes when he times how long it takes to get to the restaurant and back.   Out of the corner of my eye, I'll notice him just moving his sleeve to check his watch.

 "That was at least a minute faster than before." 
"Well uhm,  there wasn't a lot of traffic."

When I get to the highway, there's always a section where I have to merge from the collectors to the main highway.  Sometimes I have to really floor it to get to the main highway. 
"I'm not that hungry Matt."
"Oh I'm not going that fast, the engine runs kinda loud on this car and revs a lot higher than your car." 
I try not to remind him that he used to get speeding tickets. 

As we drive, I'll start my usual questions to see how he's doing and see if he's in a talkative mood. 
By the time we get to the restaurant, I usually have a good feel for how he's doing.  When we order, I usually ask what he wants.  He'll usually reply - "Oh, I like what you always order."   But I gotten used to this.  So I'll hesitate a bit, scratch my head, wince at the menu and he'll make a suggestion (which is really what he wants to order). 

During yesterday's meal, I told him his brother sent a CD with some family stories.  One of them was how they grew up during the war.  He started to look away and there was silence.  I could tell that time has not dulled those memories yet. 
"I don't know how we survived.  We were all so young.  My father was beaten and thrown in prison.  We just did what we had to."  He looked back at me and stopped talking.  I decided not to hold off on some questions I had. 

The food quickly came.  I always make sure they were all within his reach.  As usual, we have the dance of the serving spoon.  After I get my food, I always position the serving spoon (or fork) closer to him.  When he gets his food, he moves the serving spoon closer to me.  This goes on for the entire dinner.  If there is a plate that's too far, I'll get the food for him.  i've learned to ask if he would like this and how much.  It still gives him a sense of control. 

You just have to put yourself in their shoes.  Do you want someone just putting food on your bowl all the time? 

I remember a few weeks ago, there was a young man and an elderly woman having dinner at the next table.  She looked like the typical Chinese grandmother.  Her hair was nicely done, clothes were neat and she had jade earrings and jade wrist band (is that what they are called?).   I caught my dad watching them several times during dinner.  He would look at me, sort of look back at them and smiled.  I nodded my head.   I thought it was one of those heart touching scenes.  But later on, I noticed when the bill came, she was paying for it while the young guy just sat there.  Oh man... that didn't seem right.  Maybe that was the arrangement they made.  Maybe it was her treat.  But I wished the guy would have at least put up a bit of a fight when the bill came.   I always pay for dinner. 

This has become our ritual every weekend.  There are days when I want some time to myself or I want a break.  But then I remember what it was like for me when I was a kid.  He worked a couple of jobs and Sunday afternoons and evenings was the only time he was free.  I've always looked forward to Sundays.  I'm sure there were many Sundays when he just wanted to do nothing.  But he always took us out to the park, or to bowling or some other place and then dinner.   How can I just take a break? There aren't a lot of Sundays left. 

After I drop him off at home, I'll go in and chat for a bit before leaving.  He'll see me off and stand by the door.  As I drive off, he'll give me a wave.  When I was younger, I was the one standing by the door whenever my parents went out.  I would also give a wave. 

I don't think I'll ever get use to this role reversal. 

Some pictures from a couple of temples my bf and I visited the past couple of days.  I also had a wonderful feast at his home and at my brother's place the next day. 

This is from a "wishing tree".  You buy a wish and hang them on a tree or have the volunteers there hang it for you.  This year, all the proceeds went to the Canadian Red Cross for their work in Haiti.  A lot of volunteers must have had sore necks and shoulders the next day.  Everyone wanted their wish to be on
the highest branch. 

They also sold food, flowers, souvenirs and activities for the children. 

There were lots of Tiger stuff... but no Tiger Woods posters.

After a vegetarian lunch the next day at my bf's place, we went to
another temple. 

Cute kid... everyone in this family posed for pictures.   My ears
were ringing afterwards as I stood there waiting for my bf in the
line up. 

I rushed to an early dinner afterwards at my brother's place (uhmm... no food pics
either - it was just take out food).  It was a small family dinner and I met up with
one of my cousins there.  His baby girl was so adorable.  But she didn't want anyone else
but mom and dad holding her.  Every time I carried her she cried.  I held her facing her mom
and then her dad.  She knew something was wrong.  She looked up, saw me and started howling. 
The next time I carried her over my shoulder and slowly pat her back.  She kept straining to see
who held her.  Yep... she started bawling again.  Sigh - women always have this reaction when
they see me. 

I've always wanted an older brother when I was growing up.  I needed someone to guide me, help me out of my shell, help me accept myself for who I am and push me to be more outgoing.  I had an older sister but it wasn't the same.  I'm the middle child.  Looking back, I'm sure my younger brother had expected a lot more from me as an older brother.  I'm not sure I ever met his expectations.   It's not exactly something we talk about although we get along fine now. 

It would have been great to have an older brother who could teach me simple things from throwing a football, skating, swimming - even riding a bike.  Maybe it could have been other things such as showing  me how to find a summer job, teaching me how to drive or helping me buy my first jock strap.  It would have been great to have someone older to talk to.  I'm sure he would have helped make my high school and university years more enjoyable.  He probably would have figured out that I was gay and made sure I wasn't ashamed of it. 

Maybe the lack of an older brother helped me learn things the hard way.  Maybe it shaped the way I view relationships and friendships today.  A subscriber once told me I was like his older brother here on Xanga.  I was very surprised and flattered.  I wasn't anything like that "in real life".   Sometimes I read entries about folks who have older brothers but they are pretty well absent during their formative years... that's sad.  But that's also balanced out by folks like Alex who takes his responsibilities seriously.   I think his younger brother will grow up just fine. 

But life isn't fair and never will be.  I don't dwell on this now.  But I do find myself sometimes trying to be a big brother to my younger brother.  It doesn't work now of course.  I just try to be there when he needs me which isn't often.  Over the holidays his wife wanted a picture of the two of us together.  She yelled out - give him a hug!  We both chuckled and just sort of stood there,  I jokingly replied "we don't do hugs."  But I put my arm around his shoulder anyways.  Maybe by next Christmas we'll do the huggy thing but I doubt it. 

It's been awhile since I've posted any pictures. Now that I'm slowly getting comfortable with my laptop, I've installed the s/w that came with my camera to enable me to download pictures. I also picked up a memory card reader as well over the holidays.

The Christmas dinner went well. No drama, lots of laughter (thanks to my brother) and full bellies. I made a few things ahead of time although I think I could have done with one less dish. I coudn't take that many pictures because everyone was waiting. I also didn't plate the soup (someone was stingy with the meatballs). The soup is wintermelon with crab meat. The stock is from pork bones, lean pork, dried scallops, mushroom stems, ginger and I threw in some left over celery leaves. The pork meatball has soy sauce, corn starch, egg white, sesame seed oil, a bit of water, a bit of pepper and some finely chopped dried salted radish that I rehydrated. I made the stock 1 day ahead to save some time.

The beef stew was a bit of a mess. I had some frozen lean angus meat from the farmer's market. I used two bags only to find the second bag mislabelled. It was strips of beef. Oh well... c'est la vie. I made this the day before as well.

The poach chicken was actually drumsticks, thighs and breasts. I poached them in water seasoned with a bit of salt, ginger, green onions and some celery leaves (from the beef stew). I then pulled the meat out and served it with ginger, salt, green onions with oil. I save the poaching liquids and bones to make some more chicken stock.

I also made a chow mein with pork, shrimp, musrhooms and some baby Shanghai bak choi. This was the only dish I really cooked at my dad's place. I chopped all the garlic, scallions etc... ahead of time.

The dessert was red bean soup. But my brother brought a cake so we had that instead. Grrr.... I didn't take a picture of that. The travelling chef will now rest. I still have leftover beef stew in my fridge along with left over turkey dinner. It'll take awhile to finish that as I'm eating out the next couple of nights. I guess I'll have turkey for breakfast.

p.s. Xanga in a Mac / Safari seems a bit different. When I choose a photo, it used to display the photo with my text. Now when I choose a photo, it just gives me some html code to paste in with my text. I guess I'll have to get used to this. It's the same thing with adding a link.

Before I moved out of my parent's place to my own condo, I always tried to eat with them every Sunday.  After I moved out, I kept to the same routine.  I would always go back home for some home cooked meals and mom would always give me some food to take back home.  After awhile, I would do a bit of cooking at her kitchen - nothing fancy, just helping out here and there.  It seems so long now.  After she got sick I started to help out a bit more.  Sometimes I would ask her for certain recipes.  Sometimes she would try and teach me the complex ones but it was hard unless you were actually there to watch her cook.  She also never measured.  It always depended on the ingredients and the quantity.  Sometimes you had to add a bit more spice, salt, ginger or garlic... it all depends.  She tried as much as possible to teach me without jamming me into my brain.  Sometimes I would try to tell her it's ok - we can do it next time. 

After she passed away, I started to cook on Sundays more.  Sometimes my sister would make dinner and sometimes I would.  I was frustrated that basic things like oyster sauce, sesame seed oil, ginger, garlic are sometimes missing.  So I had to bring my own.  I would always make the soup ahead of time and then heat it up at my dad's place.  I would have all the raw ingredients like meats, all sliced up and marinated.  The veggies would all be washed and bagged.   All I had to do was cook rice and cook the food when I got there.  It was a bit of a mini production. 

When I stir fry on the wok, the clanging sound of the spatula scraping and hitting the sides of the wok will inevitably bring my dad into the kitchen.  It was kinda strange the first few times.  He always did the same thing when mom was cooking and they would joke a bit.  He'll be going "You aren't done yet?  I'm hungry!"  Of course she'll ask him "Then how come you weren't helping in the kitchen?".   There are no jokes though for me, just him looking over my shoulder and asking what I'm cooking.  I tell him and he'll watch a bit before wandering off.

My mom's kitchen is very quiet now.  The wok hasn't been used for quite sometime now.  I still check the cupboards and see all the spices, sauces and oils.  The sticky drawers are still sticky.  It's a small kitchen and I sometimes wonder how mom was able to cook so much out of that small kitchen.  She knew where everything was.  The extra box of corn starch - yes, bottom drawer on the left.  More ginger - behind you on the right.  Sesame seed oil - upper shelf on the right and more downstairs if needed.  While everything is still there - the heart and soul of the kitchen isn't there anymore.  I rarely cook there anymore. 

When I read your entries on cooking, I can see the joy and the respect you have with food.  Good food is meant to be shared with loved ones.  When I see my bf making a feast in his kitchen - I know there's a lot of love and care that he puts into his dishes.   It's the same when I watch my brother and his wife cooking for their guests.  I hope you all will have or continue to have a lively, loud and wonderful smelling kitchen that's full of love.  That's what the soul of a kitchen needs. 

Thanksgiving dinner was at my brother's place with many of his extended family (his wife's family and their friends).  They are nice people and down to earth.  But I don't really have a close relationship with any of them.  There was a very cute baby there with big, blue eyes and just a delightful chuckle.  You know how I am with babies - I just melt.  But for some reasons, I just couldn't connect with this one.  It was just a baby.  Most of the conversation was just the usual small talk.  The food was very good.  My brother and his wife always do a good job roasting the turkey and it's never dry. I think the turkey was about 25 lbs and very tasty.   Everybody brought some side dishes for dinner.  I purchased a couple of cakes from a local bakery. 

After dinner, someone announced that they were expecting their first child.  Everyone was jumping up and down, clapping and cheering.  I smiled politely.  In a couple of hours, I won't remember much about the dinner or the announcement.  I just have no connection to any of them.  I guess it's different for my brother.  They are all part of his family and extended family. 

I guess I'm just not feeling the thanksgiving spirit or in a family kinda mood.  I just feel so pulled in many different directions sometimes.  There's never enough time in the day to look after all the important people in my life. 

Whenever I chat with my dad, I pay close attention to his memory and mental alertness.  His memory loss continues to be gradual but noticeable.  He'll forget relatives and how they are related to him.  When I correct him on any facts, I try to balance leaving his dignity intact and getting the facts right.  If it's not relevant to the conversation, I just let it go.  If he ask me who a certain person is, I just say the name and how they are related and don't make a big deal out of it.  I wished my sister would do the same thing.

The other day, I sit down beside him on the couch.  I glance at the book in his hands and ask him what he's reading.  "It's by Simon Winchester.  Are you familiar with him?"  I shake my head.  He tells me a bit about the author and gestures to a pile of books on the table beside me.  I reach over and there are a couple of more books by the same author.  I read some of the background information about the author on the jacket.  To my surprise and relief, it matches what my dad said. 

He pulls up another book from a pile beside the couch.  "The Winchester book is light reading but I really want to read this biography of Gandhi."  He's always been around books.  I glance down at the pile of books beside him.  They are neatly stacked and patiently waiting for him.  I barely get a chance to do serious reading nowadays.

As if on cue, he points to the piles of magazines on top of the coffee table.  "Do you read the Beijing Review?  No?  Hmm...  How about Foreign Affairs?".  I continue to shake my head.  I see The Economist, Fortune, National Geographic, New Yorker and the NY Times.  I tell him I get most of my news online but still try to read up on the 2 local papers.  He nods although I sense a bit of disappointment.  He then laments about the decline of magazines such as the Atlantic and even the NY Times.  But he saves his tirade for the TV news.  "You should watch the BBC News instead."  We both agree that CNN has lost its magic and integrity. 

I am sure he can sense my concerns about him and he puts up a brave front.  He's already told me he knows his memory is declining.  But he's fighting it in his own way.  People complain my dad is stubborn.  I'm glad he is stubborn and refuses to let senility walk all over him.  I know age will eventually take its course.  But for now, I hope he continues to wage this noble war. 

I spent the weekend with one of my cousins.  I've heard more stories - mostly from my mother's side of the family.  Although we're cousins, he's considerably older than I am.  He is also related (although distant) on my dad's side as well.  So it's a bit of a unique relationship.  He's got a keen memory and is a pretty good story teller.  I've heard stories about:

• concubines
• family feuds
• relatives (men of course) who slept around
• different lines of the family trees that I have some vague inkling about
• stories about my grandmother and her knowledge of Chinese herbal medicine which saved a young girl's life.
• relatives who made fortunes
• relatives who lost their fortunes
• relatives who lived sad and difficult live

My brother skipped one of the dinners because one of our relatives (not close) was there.  It seems this relative has committed an unpardonable act (which I won't repeat here) and my brother has decided not to have anything to do with him.  I never knew about this until this past weekend.  Another relative was also staying with my brother.  He's 1/4 Chinese so it was interesting for him to see the other members of his extended family.  We're blood relatives through his father and his paternal grandmother.  The other side of his family is Swiss / German. 

Families - so complex, so rich - a source of comfort and pain. 

This entry was originally part of the previous entry.  But it didn't really fit so I rewrote it as a separate entry.

One of my dad's brother came over for a brief visit.  We haven't seen him for over 15 years.  This was a good chance for my dad and him to reconnect after such a long absence.  As I stood outside the arrivals gate at the airport, I tried to picture what he would look like.  But it was just a vague memory.  There were a few Asian guys that came out that fit the age profile.  One looked right at me and walked towards me.  I looked at him intently hoping for a eureka moment.  But there was nothing and we broke our eye contact.  Another elderly Asian guy came out and he stood there looking for someone.  I walked forward to get a closer look but someone else claimed him.  My uncle then came out.  He looked at me and then looked past me.  I called his name and then we both smiled.  I am glad my uncle wasn't traveling from Asia otherwise he would have blended in with the other passengers. 

During dinner that night, he told my dad that he wanted to spend time talking about the past because he had a lot of questions.  I was only half paying attention as I was focusing on my food.  I noticed no one else was talking.  I put down my chopsticks and looked at my dad.  His face was contorted and he was on the verge of tears.  He told my uncle that his memory is very patchy now and he doesn't remember a lot of things anymore. 

When they finally sat down to chat, my dad just talked and talked.  My uncle took a lot of notes.  He actually had a list of questions too.  My dad's memory is starting to fade but he still seems to remember a lot of childhood events, school mates, friends, street names etc..   I took down some notes as well.  There are some stories I never knew.  It would have been impossible to ask my dad about those stories.  There were others I knew about but new facts emerged.  There's just so much oral history. 

After the last dinner, I drove my uncle back to his hotel.  My uncle was in the front seat and my dad was seated behind him.   As I pulled up to the front door, my dad reached forward and gently squeezed my uncle's shoulder.  My uncle got out of the car, opened the back door, reached in and shook my dad's hand.  They said their goodbyes and the usual "send my best to everyone".  My uncle also gently rubbed my dad's shoulder.  With a brave smile on each of their faces, they waved goodbye and the car door closed.  They don't know when or if they'll see each other again.  It was quiet ride home.

1)  London Calling!
At dinner in a restaurant one evening, the Clash's London Calling  started to play in the background.  I started to nod my head and absentmindedly sing along.  Then it quickly dawned on me.  What was one of the biggest punk rock anthems back then is now simply dinner music.  London Calling was the title track from the double album of the same name.  The album had a wonderful mixture of punk, ska, rock and even rockabilly with biting social commentary.  It was probably one of the Clash's best work ever.  Dinner music ... hmmph! 

2) I got paid
a)  It was a good day for laundry.  The washer and dryer did not steal any of my socks.  My undies came through without any new holes.  These mean machines always threaten my underwear.  "I'm gonna rip you a new a**hole." is one their favorite lines and they mean it.  But today, those 2 brutes were generous and even gave me some loose change back.  It wasn't much but I was grateful. 

b)  At the end of a somewhat frisky session at my bf's bed, I looked around for my watch, wallet, cellphone and stuff.  While I was putting them back in my pockets, my bf handed me the loose change that was scattered on his bed. 
I looked at the money in mock horror.   "That's it?  Just 65 cents for that session?" 
"Well- this wasn't as good or as long as the last time.  The bar has been raised."  He gave me a cheesy smile. 
I love it when we tease each other like this.  I always get a chuckle when we have these little exchanges.

3)  Inspired by Mom
It's tough cooking for my dad.  He can get bored of food rather quickly.  Sometimes I don't have a clue what to make for him on Sundays.  While we eat out almost every Sunday night, I spend most of the afternoon making soup and usually a dish so he has some home cooked food during the week.  Inevitably I'll get an idea out of the blue.  It's usually simple dishes like white daikon radish (lo bak) with some dried shrimps or roast pork steamed with ginger and a bit of shrimp paste.  These are dishes that my mom would have made to spur his appetite.  It's always comforting to me to still have this connection to my mom. 

I hope everyone had a good start to the week.