he loved to eat chicken butts, on a stick, from street vendor grills.
he was the carpenter of the family.
he started his apprenticeship between at an age I was still climbing trees. I think he was 7.
luckily for him his mentor took care of him like a son while they traveled all around taiwan working on various projects.
unluckily for him, his mom would only show up when she needed to collect HIS wages.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Guilt of an Enabler
For as long as I can comprehend alcoholism, it’s always in the back of my head knowing I am an enabler. Mom has always told me that 1) it’s not my fault and 2) you can’t change the habits of old people. It’s still something I’m very torn about especially knowing that if I had to do it over, I’m not sure I’d do any different, as horrible as that sounds.
My maternal grandfather (Ah-Gong) was a very skilled carpenter. He had most kickass woodworking tools that I only wish I can inherit one day, but I know they are probably just rusting away in the Taiwanese humidity and lack of use. Ah-Gong fell off scaffolding while the kids were still young. He got a permanent hunchback from the fall and always required a walking stick to maneuver around. He never gave up woodworking but he could not get around easily.
He started drinking rice wine (mi jui) to dull the pain from the fall. The rice wine from then is very different from the ones we in grocery stores these days. Now the manufacturers add in salt to prevent people from drinking the cheap cookign alcohols. The rice wine is not really wine at all; it’s more of a grain alcohol that is a lot stronger than the 12% wine today.
A-Gong and Ah-Ma’s house was constantly filled with grandkids since many of the grandkids lived in Taipei, my brother and I included. Since my parents were the only ones who did not procreate beyond two, Ah-Gong and Ah-Ma always had at least one grandkid living with them so the parents can have at least one less kid to worry about. My brother and I always knew we could never compete with the other grandkids to be Ah-Gong or Ah-Ma’s favorite since we didn’t spend as much time with them as the other grandkids, and let’s face it, we are the kids of a DAUGHTER, not a SON.
But still, we tried to help Ah-Gong run errands down the street to pick up some fresh eggs, newspaper, and rice wine. Ah-Gong always rewarded us with five-yen with each run, so we can pick up a corn snack (Guai-Guai) for ourselves as well. From a household without junk food, these corn snacks were what Pixie Sticks were to Ned Flander’s kids. We’d practically fight over who gets to make Ah-Gong’s rice wine. At a time and place kids could buy alcohol that easily, we were able to constantly continue the flow of rice wine at Ah-Gong’s house.
Ah-Gong never did anything that struck me as the alcoholic with the tell tell symptoms. He taught himself to read from newspaper and asking his kids/grand kids to help him identify the characters he didn’t know, he held a small municipal position since he was so well liked in the neighborhood, he didn’t have mood swings, heck, even when he died, it was nothing related to his drinking. He simply drank to dull the pain in his back.
Till this day, when I see Guai-Guai at groceries here, I’m always excited that these cheap snacks are still around and even imported to the states, but the excitement always tinged with a little remorse of knowing that when I a little kid, I got so much joy buying alcohol from Ah-Gong. I wonder if my cousins feel the same way?
Despite how much I joke about enjoying my wine and stouts, I rarely get shit faced and I rarely have more than one drink each sitting. It is always in the back of my head, the danger of using vices to cope runs in my family.
My maternal grandfather (Ah-Gong) was a very skilled carpenter. He had most kickass woodworking tools that I only wish I can inherit one day, but I know they are probably just rusting away in the Taiwanese humidity and lack of use. Ah-Gong fell off scaffolding while the kids were still young. He got a permanent hunchback from the fall and always required a walking stick to maneuver around. He never gave up woodworking but he could not get around easily.
He started drinking rice wine (mi jui) to dull the pain from the fall. The rice wine from then is very different from the ones we in grocery stores these days. Now the manufacturers add in salt to prevent people from drinking the cheap cookign alcohols. The rice wine is not really wine at all; it’s more of a grain alcohol that is a lot stronger than the 12% wine today.
A-Gong and Ah-Ma’s house was constantly filled with grandkids since many of the grandkids lived in Taipei, my brother and I included. Since my parents were the only ones who did not procreate beyond two, Ah-Gong and Ah-Ma always had at least one grandkid living with them so the parents can have at least one less kid to worry about. My brother and I always knew we could never compete with the other grandkids to be Ah-Gong or Ah-Ma’s favorite since we didn’t spend as much time with them as the other grandkids, and let’s face it, we are the kids of a DAUGHTER, not a SON.
But still, we tried to help Ah-Gong run errands down the street to pick up some fresh eggs, newspaper, and rice wine. Ah-Gong always rewarded us with five-yen with each run, so we can pick up a corn snack (Guai-Guai) for ourselves as well. From a household without junk food, these corn snacks were what Pixie Sticks were to Ned Flander’s kids. We’d practically fight over who gets to make Ah-Gong’s rice wine. At a time and place kids could buy alcohol that easily, we were able to constantly continue the flow of rice wine at Ah-Gong’s house.
Ah-Gong never did anything that struck me as the alcoholic with the tell tell symptoms. He taught himself to read from newspaper and asking his kids/grand kids to help him identify the characters he didn’t know, he held a small municipal position since he was so well liked in the neighborhood, he didn’t have mood swings, heck, even when he died, it was nothing related to his drinking. He simply drank to dull the pain in his back.
Till this day, when I see Guai-Guai at groceries here, I’m always excited that these cheap snacks are still around and even imported to the states, but the excitement always tinged with a little remorse of knowing that when I a little kid, I got so much joy buying alcohol from Ah-Gong. I wonder if my cousins feel the same way?
Despite how much I joke about enjoying my wine and stouts, I rarely get shit faced and I rarely have more than one drink each sitting. It is always in the back of my head, the danger of using vices to cope runs in my family.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
mud ovens
ah-ma and ah-gong from dad's side owned a kickass farm in the south. that farm provided endless hours of fun whenever us grand kids got to visit. bro and I were the only two grand kids for so long that we were pretty much the apples in our grandparents eye until their death. dad always showed us the various fun we can have around the farm and he tried to have a mud pit cookout each time we visited the farm.
All of us kids and adults would go around the farm to collect chunks of dried mud, preferably with burn marks, showing it was previously used the year before, having already been baked to contain heat even better. We would stack these mud chunks into a igloo/hive shape stuffed with newspaper. Grandma would clean a chicken and grandpa would pick up sweet potato, eggs and the kids would collect used cans to put the eggs into. Dad would set the newspaper on fire and we'd sit back and watch the fire go out once all the oxygen is gone, and newspaper completely disintegrated. We would then stuff the chicken, sweet potato and cans through the opening and seal the opening when we're done. By nightfall, we would tear down the mud chunks with the food all cooked inside and we'd have an outdoor picnic devouring the food as mosquitoes devour us in the summer heat of Southern Taiwan.
All of us kids and adults would go around the farm to collect chunks of dried mud, preferably with burn marks, showing it was previously used the year before, having already been baked to contain heat even better. We would stack these mud chunks into a igloo/hive shape stuffed with newspaper. Grandma would clean a chicken and grandpa would pick up sweet potato, eggs and the kids would collect used cans to put the eggs into. Dad would set the newspaper on fire and we'd sit back and watch the fire go out once all the oxygen is gone, and newspaper completely disintegrated. We would then stuff the chicken, sweet potato and cans through the opening and seal the opening when we're done. By nightfall, we would tear down the mud chunks with the food all cooked inside and we'd have an outdoor picnic devouring the food as mosquitoes devour us in the summer heat of Southern Taiwan.
finding wealth in knowledge
mom was very close to her youngest brother. even though she worked in factory as she was in college she still managed to find ways to entice her youngest brother to stay in school. she slipped paper money into his text book so he would come across them in his studying. he finished high school, learned a special trade and is now a successful owner of his own manufacturing business.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Feet = Gross
Mom remembers how her greatgrandmother from her dad's side would unwrap her tiny bound feet, once in awhile to change the binding fabric. I guess the binding fabric acts like a sock, to absorb the moisture of subtropical Taiwan, and to contain these little feet. Pretty much the bone/ligaments are broken so the toes can be rolled under similar to the way we hold our hands in fists. Strangely the distorted shape was not what was considered gross in mom’s memory, it was the SMELL! Mom said the stench increases as the feet were being unswaddled and the yards and yards of fabric was jus marinated in the smell. Wow, how did ANYONE find footbinding hot?
Sadly, none of the shoes are kept in the family. I can imagine those must be pretty darn awesome to have with usually very decorative hand sewn stitching. I just ran a search to find when footbinding was officially banned, 1911? Um well maybe not Taiwan since if my mom saw my great grandmother with her feet still bound then the time frame would be between 1950-mid 1960s. Not so distant after all, as I look at my own sz 5 but wide feet.
Which reminds me when I did a stint at a department store selling kid shoes after college, a family with a toddler was convinced that since I’m Chinese, and my people are responsible for footbinding, I was pushing them to buy the wrong size. Sorry, I’m not an asshole, I hope your kid tripped on the 2 sizes too big shoe he’s trying to learn to walk in. Ef that, we'll never live that one down won't we.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
scalping tickets
When mom was a kid, Taipei was still very rural, whereas now, my grandparent’s house is surrounded by highrises. The only major thing around my grandparent’s house was the national university, whose campus provided kids a place to play, income resources for many of the Taiwanese lowerclass, and delicious street vendors catering to the always hungry college kids.
The university gave away basketball tickets on game day to anyone who came by. The only rule, one ticket per person. The oldest uncle found a way to make some money for the family by rounding up the younger siblings, my mom included, to go get these free tickets and the scalping them later to others. Since it was crowded, they tried one of the tricks to get extra tickets by sticking the other hand into the crowd. Yes their little hands were slapped a couple of times when caught, they were all in elementary school. These kids never thought to keep the money to themselves, they all went to grandma, because every penny counted.
The university gave away basketball tickets on game day to anyone who came by. The only rule, one ticket per person. The oldest uncle found a way to make some money for the family by rounding up the younger siblings, my mom included, to go get these free tickets and the scalping them later to others. Since it was crowded, they tried one of the tricks to get extra tickets by sticking the other hand into the crowd. Yes their little hands were slapped a couple of times when caught, they were all in elementary school. These kids never thought to keep the money to themselves, they all went to grandma, because every penny counted.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
