Memories in a box

My wife and I have been spending around 30-40 minutes each night in our basement, going through boxes, throwing things out, and especially, being reminded of old keepsakes.

There was one boxes full of my notes, from university. Most of them looked entirely foreign to me. Even the handwriting didn't look like mine, and you can forget about the math -- that stuff looked like it was written in a different language. There was another box full of old pictures, Christmas cards, Birthday cards, and several handbooks which I found quite amusing.

During my teenage years I never really understood why Teen's Conference was considered a "Meat Market". I even remember a young Kevin Lai in a skit standing at the edge of the stage waving a large cleaver. I didn't understand that. I guess in those days I was too innocent about what was going on around me.

As I looked through some of my old TC handbooks, I quickly realized that there may have been a lot more going on than I had ever realized at the time. For one thing, not a lot of comments from boys, but a ton from girls. I guess at that age girls were a lot more chatty.

Secondly I was surprised to see the number of girls who left their phone number, so that, um, we could discuss sermons?

Also, instead of comments you might expect like "gee, we sure had a lot of fun, huh?", I saw comments like "I hope you remember me" and "xxxoooxxx". How bizarre..

We still have tons of boxes so I'm sure I'll have more funny stories to share. I threw out all my notes but some of the handbooks/birthday cards I couldn't help but keep.

Good times.

My popo

About a year ago Ina and I went down to San Francisco, but before that we stopped in Hayward to visit my grandparents, who were being looked after by my aunt. At the time my parents thought it'd be a great chance for us to see them because they were likely too old to travel up to Toronto to attend our wedding the following May.

My Popo and I have had some epic battles back in the day. She would come up to Toronto to visit during the summers from Taiwan and look after me during my summer holidays, and stay until it got cold. We had a lot of fights because Popo was super stubborn and refused to ever let me win at anything, and I hated that because I hate losing. She never let me win, and on top of that often would gloat after beating me, relishing in my defeats. I remember vividly once we were playing Chinese Chess, and once again she creamed me and so I picked up a playing piece and threw it at her in frustration. She threw one back at me and the next thing I knew were we throwing them at eachother. Come to think of it, those things were pretty heavy, I'm surprised we didn't break anything. She got me on the shoulder and I started to cry. She just laughed.

Popo was also way too smart for her own good. I had heard that various pastors and ministers had come to try to share the gospel with her and she refused to believe. She was too clever, Christianity was too "easy" for her, it was silly to her. Even when my mom shared her personal testimony and invited her to church to hear it, she came but she was too stubborn to acknowledge whether or not she was touched by my mom's story.

My Popo never really worked, she painted beautiful paintings using the Chinese watercolor method. I remember back in our old house in Unionville, my dad picked up an old drafting table and set it up in the dinning room, and Popo set up her painting scrolls and paints and brushes and would sit there and practice. She taught me to how to paint too, how to hold the brush (mao bi) properly and how to write. She had these special practice papers which you could paint on over and over with water and the water would just evaporate quickly. She taught me how to paint the flowers, leaves and branches. Our house was filled with many of her painting scrolls. I used to spend about 30 minutes after getting home from school, and practice my writing skills and painting skills while I ate those pineapple filled biscuits (fong li su).

When I was little I loved to eat (and still do) these little banana cakes, (shiang giao gao), and my Popo figured out how to make it. I mean this was before the internet when you could just look it up and find a recipe. She made it by tasting it and feeling its texture. She'd never made it before and she just figured it out, somehow.

When I was 11, my mom, my brother and I went to Taiwan and stayed there for 6 weeks. This was during the school year so I missed all that time from school, though I took lots of homework and textbooks to keep up. I remember going shopping with my grandma, just the two of us. We'd go into the grocery store and they had this conveyor belt just for your shopping cart to take it upstairs because there was no other way to take it up there. I guess it was to save space. Then when you bought stuff you stick it back on there and it brings it back down for you. She used to buy me all kinds of yummy goodies and little toys with wound up rubber bands as engines. At the apartment she always made me this pork that I loved.. I still remember it. It had just enough meat and fat on it.. I think we ate it almost every other day. It was so good.

I have so many fond memories of Popo.

Anyway, while we were visiting in Hayward, my aunt told me that Popo hadn't really spoken in some time. She did most of her communication by pointing to things. But while I was there I got to talking to her and she spoke to me. It was a touching moment for me, one that I will remember for the rest of my life. I introduced her to my future wife, and we talked a bit about the old times, memories and silly things I used to do to make her laugh. I found out that she had accepted Christ, which was really great news.

Popo passed away on August 21, 2008. She will be missed.

Songs that remind me of..

Ina and I were trying to think of good romantic songs to use for our "first dance" at our wedding, but it seemed like every song I came up with, she said no to because that song "already belonged to someone else". I couldn't help but feel a little jealous about this...

Anyway, it got me thinking about how certain songs remind me of things, maybe not people in general, but of moments or milestones in my life. Over the years I could put together an interesting little soundtrack of my memories.

"One and One" by Robert Miles

This song reminds me of my 1st and 2nd years in university. My roommate (and highschool pal) Keith and I would always play this song just before every exam. At first it was more coincidence -- playing mindless dance music was the only type of music that mindnumbing enough that it didn't make us think or lose focus, but also repetitive enough that it kept us alert. But then as exams came and went, we'd play it more and more, until it became part of our ritual.

I heard this in a store a year ago and feelings of exam anxieties came over me. It was pretty eerie.

"Open The Eyes of My Heart" by Sonicflood

As overplayed as this song has gotten over the years, I will not forget this song because it was the song that motivated me into buying a guitar and teaching myself how to play guitar. I'd heard it many times before but there was this one time when we were in Ottawa at The Metropolitan Bible church. Every month they had worship night at "The Met" as they called it. Anyway there was just that one time when they played it there that it struck the heart of me, opened my eyes -- to the wonderful sound of acoustic guitar. I remember sitting in the front row, this guy Geordi or something, he played it, and as I sang and looked up (they had a skylight) I was looking into the sky -- it was pretty amazing. I would be forever changed by that one evening of music. I bought my first guitar a week later.

"Under The Bridge" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

I'm trying to think of a song that I've recited more times than this one.. I can't think of any. First time I heard it was at chinese school at Agincourt Collegiate, some kid had brought his ghetto blaster and were blasting this song in the hallway. It must have been grade 7 or 8. I'm trying to remember how I could have memorized the words to the song without having a tape of it.. but nevertheless I did memorize it and years later I still find myself singing it to myself.

It's one of those solitudinal ballads that you find yourself singing when you're bored, lonely or sad. Which to me seems like something I experienced a lot as a pre-teen and adolescent.

Anything by Mariah Carey

I learned to sing by singing along with Mariah Carey songs. Well.. maybe that not the full truth -- I learned to sing from being part of the T3C Children's Choir. That, combined with uber musical genes from my parents made me the singer I am today. Which isn't saying a whole lot.. but..

I remember many a night, broken hearted or "in love", where I would sit at my desk with my head phones on blasting Mariah Carey songs. Or when I was home alone, I'd belt out her tunes as her CDs played in the background. Showering I find is another great time to sing Mariah.

..

I guess it's just fun reminiscing of old days, and seeing how there's songs that just stick with you when they happen to be playing during certain moments in your life.

The Happiest Days of Our Lives

Reading Wil Wheaton's "The Happiest Days of Our Lives" really conjured up so many childhood memories for me. Several reviews I had read said that Wil's book has a nostalgic feel to it, making you think of your own childhood. They weren't kidding. I finished reading it just now, and I all I can think about are the little moments in life that are etched in my memory. He is definitely a great story teller, and because he's a blogger his writing flows as easily as reading a blog.. which probably explains how I managed to finish the entire book so quickly. I feel a little jipped actually.. wish it was twice as long.

I don't know Wil Wheaton nor do I care about him. I don't care about the things he faced or experienced in school and as a child. The truth is I couldn't care less. But he's such a great story teller and the way that he describes everything makes you think about yourself. About all the little things you did as kid, things that were so important to you but might not matter now as an adult. Rules to live by for a kid. And.. and being able to remember the things you really cared about, and mattered, and things you were so afraid of and things that annoyed you to your core as a child. And how innocent we all were, in our own little worlds.

I don't think I knew many kids who were as geeky as Willow Wheaton was. Sure I dabbled in Dungeons & Dragons during Chinese School, and yea I got picked on at school because I was puny. And yea I sucked at sports, and was constantly distracted by video games. I was also great at dodgeball, not so much because of my agility but because more because no one really paid much attention to me. I too, hated to be embarrassed in front of other kids, often hiding in a corner and crying about it. I too labored and gawked at the toy store, staring up at hundreds of action figures that I wanted but could only afford at most 1 per month, and considered saving up for a few months to get a big one. I too got board games for Christmas when all the other kids my age were playing Nintendo.

How do you play board games when you're an only child? You don't. So you develop an overly active imagination, start playing games left hand against right hand, invent different personalities in your brain so that you could pit one against the other. For 9 years, that's what I had to do. For years Wil played D&D all by himself.

I don't pretend to be the same as Wil. We're far from being the same, I was certainly not a child actor, although maybe a pretender. But reading his book really reminded me of things that I really loved and cherished. It's a great, short read and I look forward to reading more.