Nor Sleet Nor Snow

Last week, my wife found herself in New York after a two week working road-trip that saw her travel from Asia to Europe and finally to America. We were looking forward to her returning on a Wednesday evening flight from JFK Airport which would bring her back home just in time for the traditional family re-union dinner on the eve of the Chinese New Year.

On Wednesday morning in Kuala Lumpur (9 pm at night in New York), my wife called and gave me the disappointing news that she might not be able to come back as scheduled. Earlier that week, New York had already been hit by a blizzard which resulted in all the airports being closed for three days. Now, barely two days later, another blizzard was rolling in. My wife's flight was scheduled for 9pm that day but the problem was that the snow storm was expected to roar in at noon. The travel agents and the airports were predicting that no flights would make it out that night.

Even worse, even if my wife could get on a flight the day after or the following days, she would be stranded in Singapore because all the flights from Singapore to Malaysia were fully booked for people traveling home for the Chinese New Year. There seemed noway that she would be spending the Chinese New Year holidays with me. Very depressing news indeed.

Anyway, later that day, it happened to be my weekly bible study group day and I shared the situation with them and challenged them to pray with me for something that if not impossible, seemed to be most improbable; that God would somehow get my wife home for the holidays. That was at 8 am New York time and a phone call from my wife confirmed that the snow was already falling and New York was under a blanket of white. The storm was still expected to peak in another 4 hours and her flight still a distant 13 hours away. The airports still were prediting cancellations.

Well, having committed the matter to God, I went to sleep and woke up the next day to find an exciting SMS on my handphone from my wife. Her flight was in the air and she was on her way back. Hallelujah!

It later turns out that Newark and LaGuardia airports were closed by the storm. JFK Airport remained open but one by one the flights were cancelled. Somehow, her Singapore Airlines flight was boarded, spent three hours de-icing on the runway but finally took off. It was to be the ONLY flight to leave that night.

I have said it before and I'll say it again. God is the best travel agent there is. Happy Chinese New Year! May great things roar in for you this Year of the Tiger!

Orphaned

At Home with the Lord and Re-united at Last.

My father passed away in 2007 at the age of 93. Just a few days ago, on the 3rd of November, my mother, at the age of 87, followed him into heaven. It was almost exactly 2 years and a month later. Suddenly, even though I am a middle aged man, I feel like I have been orphaned.

My parents were a very loving couple and so very co-dependent that when my dad passed away, there were many from within family and friends who thought that my mother would not last very long. Well, she carried on for another 2 years. It was not an easy two years though. Even though she had no shortage of family, friends and visitors, it was clear that she missed him very much and had a loneliness and an emptiness that none of us was able to fill.

When they were both younger, she would always ask my dad to promise to allow her to die first for the very fact that she felt she could not bear being alone in the world without him. Very good naturedly, my father would assure her that he would definitely not go first so she was assured that he would be there to take care of her. However, as it turned out, that was one promise he was not able to keep.

And so, I think these last two years were perhaps for my mom a very sad and lonely time. There were, of course, happy days during this period. She particularly enjoyed the visits of her grandchildren. She still had a good appetite and was still able to enjoy her favorites like barbequed pork, fried banana fritters and durian fruit. On her penultimate day on earth, she asked me to get her some satay (seasoned meat skewers grilled over a charcoal fire) for dinner. To my everlasting regret, I was not able to do so because of heavy rain. She even placed an order with my brother for an Indian specialty called mee rebus for lunch the next day; and not any mee rebus but one from a particular shop that she used to take us to as kids.

Yet despite her relatively good appetite, she was extremely malnourished. I suppose, the scientific explanation would be that she was not able to absorb enough of the nutrients. However, our hearts tell us that she was sad and just wanted to move on.

She took to her bed and began to cut her ties to the world about three months ago. Perhaps the second anniversary of my father's passing weighed more heavily on her than we had imagined. A doctor examined her that very morning and declared that her lungs were clear and her heart beat was incredibly strong for someone her age. By noon, she had breathed her last, for no other reason perhaps than that she was ready, nay, desirous to go.

I am glad that she is beyond this period of loneliness and suffering. I believe that she is now home in heaven with God and reunited with my father; altogether in a much happier place and at peace.

For me though, the world seems a more dangerous and wild place as if a great source of love and light had been extinguished. Even though like all children, I sought to establish my independence from my parents, deep down I was always glad and relieved to know that their love and support was a constant in this tumultuous life. And now, with them both gone, I cannot help feeling like a 47 year old orphan.

To family and friends, I thank you for all your love shown. I thank you for your faithful visits to my mother, for your prayers, support, kind words and actions. God bless you all.

Weapon Escalation

It seemed like a peaceful day; slightly overcast and pleasant. I was just 11 years old and while my mother was doing gardening and sweeping out the drain at the back of our home, I was using my imagination to turn my entire backyard into a fantasy world where the grass became vast expanses of rainforest and the concrete porch abutting the drain became a large airstrip for my toy planes.

I was flying my model Douglas A4 Skyhawk over the hostile and mysterious jungles looking for ant hills and other insects to irritate when the quiet of the afternoon was suddenly interrupted by a yell from my mother. A foolish rat had decided to emerge from the drain and run along the concrete porch. My mom reacted quickly, grabbing a broom and using it to try to bean the animal on the head as it ran.

I was jumping with excitement as I witness the contest between my mom and the rat. Down came the broom here with a crash and there with a bang. The rat was clearly regretting his decision to come out and was squealing as he expertly dodged the blows raining down on him. One of my mom's blows with the broom had hit him but perhaps not with much force. He was able to carry on his crazy run even though he appeared at least a little stunned. It seemed like a long time but perhaps barely half a minute had passed when the rat managed to dive into safety into a little crack between the drain and the porch.

There were cracks and holes all along the juncture of the porch and the drainwhere the concrete there was crumbly with age. When the rat made it into that labyrinth under the concrete, I thought that the day's entertainment was over but my mother's blood was up. She used the broom handle and tried to poke it through the hole. What infuriated her was that she could not get at the rat but when she removed the broom, she could make out the rat's shiny beady eyes in the deep recesses of the hole looking at her.

She ran into the kitchen and came back out with some rags and an insecticide aerosol can. She used the rags to stuff some of the holes along the drain to prevent the rat from escaping and then she pumped the aerosol can contents into the first hole. Then we both waited, expecting the rat to emerge gassed.

Nothing happened. My mom then decided to smoke the rat out. She twisted some newspaper, lit it and inserted it into the hole. Now my highly intelligent readers will no doubt have anticipated the consequence of applying a flame to a dense cloud of inflammable aerosol.

There was an almighty explosion. BOOM! Sheets of flame shot out of all the holes and cracks and when the dust settled, parts of the concrete slabs was completely blown up into rubble exposing parts of the underground sanctuary. My mom's hair was slightly singed.

Both my mom and I was stunned by the explosion. I looked at her slightly soot-dusted face and we laughed away the tension of the moment. After she recovered her composure, she rooted through the rubble with the broom handle but found no evidence of the rat. No body or even gross body parts.

I'd like to think that the rat got out alive. Perhaps he was already on his way out one of the escape routes when he was catapulted out by the explosion. There he lay, slightly singed and dazed but alive! While my mom searched the debris, he would make his escape to his nest where he would tell his astonished and rapt rodent audience about his adventure and how he cheated death at the hands of this new weapon of terror.

The Hotel That Got Away

It was 1994, I had been studying in Ottawa on a scholarship for more than 3 years. My stay in Canada was coming to an end and I saved up money so that my wife and I could enjoy one big Canadian travel adventure before we had to leave. My brother and his wife also was keen to visit Canada while we were there. So it was agreed that we would meet in Vancouver and drive through the Canadian Rockies to Banff and then on to Calgary.

While I was definitely excited about this and sharing the car rental helped a lot to stretch my limited resources, choosing accommodation became a problem. My brother and his wife were accustomed to a better quality or level of accommodation whereas I was more concerned about the costs.

As the date neared, I desperately scoured the Internet for information on the best deals for accommodation. In Vancouver, I narrowed it down to two places. The first was Sylvia Hotel. It seemed too good to be true. From the pictures, it looked like it had a lot of character and the price was incredibly reasonable. I could not believe the price and I suspected a con job. Back then, the web pages were not as interactive as today's travel pages and more importantly it did not have comments from previous customers. If we had that, I am sure we would have gone for it.

Instead, I delayed making a decision and lost the rooms. I eventually chose a place called Shatto Inn which was a bargain and near Stanley Park but it was not Sylvia Inn. When we finally arrived in Vancouver and saw Sylvia Hotel for ourselves, we could find nothing wrong with the place. It would become, in our family lore, the great hotel that got away.

A funny side-story was that I spoke to my brother on the telephone and told him to make his way to Shatto Inn when he arrived as our flight would arrive some 6 hours later. He thought he heard "Chateau Inn" which conjured up some thoughts of a rather opulent establishment and was therefore a little taken aback when the taxi took him to Shatto Inn - a three star rather than five star establishment.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, A Majority of Two, posted about the Sylvia Hotel and talked about the hotel in detail, even about a cat called Mister Got to Go. Please follow the link to read more about it. At that time, I mentioned that there was a song by Cheryl Wheeler about the Hotel and the cat is even mentioned.

Here is the only version I could find which is a cover version by a German fan who actually got to stay at the hotel. She heard the song first and was determined to see the hotel whereas, the squirrel never got to stay at the hotel but got to hear the song. Be warned that it is a soppy, sad, emotional type song and that it gets more interesting after the cat appears. Enjoy.

David Archuleta Sings Our Song

When I left Malaysia to study in Canada, I left my future wife behind. At that time we had been going out together for a while but had made no decisions or commitments to one another. The truth was I had a fear of commitment and our separation seemed like an easy way of letting fate decide.

I had always enjoyed traveling and coming to Canada was a real treat for me but in that first year I came to realise that as much as I enjoyed experiencing Canada, I missed not experiencing it with her. I just knew then that I wanted to experience every joy and every sorrow with her for the rest of my life. It was not fate but God who acted because just as He made me understand this and to recognise my own insecurities about commitment before, He also moved her to make a bold decision to save up and visit me on her own accord.

The timing was perfect. When I was informed that she was coming, I was excited and got prepared. The first day when she arrived I practically showed her the whole of Ottawa as if I was trying to share a year's experience in one day. She gamely put up with it but of course she was tired and she slept soundly that night.

However, I knew what I had to do and so the next day, as soon as she awoke, I proposed to her by singing "And So it Goes" by Billy Joel. I chose this song because the lyrics accurately expressed how I felt in an honest manner that I felt she needed to hear. Needless to say, this song has remained special for us.....our song.

So, we were so pleasantly surprised when we learnt that American Idol this week, Puala Abdul chose this song for David Archuleta (also my wife's favorite contestant) to sing.

And so it goes that ......DAVID ARCHULETA SINGS OUR SONG!!!!




I had posted about this song before and here are the complete lyrics of the song.

In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along

I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense

And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose

But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break

And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows

So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break

And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows.

Entrapment

My wife and I were budging out on DVD's over the weekend. I had just finished watching Vantage Point which was a very interesting action drama. My adrenaline was pumping after watching the movie. Suddenly I had a craving to watch another action movie and for some reason, I thought of watching and old science fiction favorite starring Bruce Willis called "The Fifth Element".

My wife on the other hand had been doing a marathon on chick flicks. As I was scrummaging through our old VCD collection (cause The Fifth Element is THAT old.), she threw me a DVD and told me to watch it.

I had a look at it and said, "No thanks! I have a date with Bruce the Man Willis and The Fifth Element." Alas, I could not find it even though I went through our entire collection.

As I sat frustrated, trying to visualise in my mind's eye where I had last seen that VCD, my wife threw me the DVD again and told me to give up the search and watch that DVD. Once again I told her that I was not in the mood for a romantic chick flick.

She persisted. She told me that it had an actor from that testosterone feast of sweaty, glistening male bodies and naked aggression called "300". Not interested was my reply.

"It also has someone from Friends and it has one of your old favorites." she continued.

She can be very persistent and I could read the signs that she would not be stopping on this issue. Finally, I had a look at the DVD and it was a movie entitled "P.S. I love you."



Okay, I thought to myself, that's a dumb unpromising title. Then I checked the actors. The actor from 300 was Gerard Butler. Now granted he is quite the hunk and a feast for the eyes for the ladies but that doesn't do anything for me ( I assure you). The female lead is Hilary Swank. Again, I appreciate that she is a great actress but doesn't she play all these tomboy roles? I just could not imagine her in a romantic story.

Then I discovered that Lisa Kudrow was also in the movie. Now, she's funny. Perhaps the movie had a chance. Ooo, Ooo, and it also has Harry Connick Jr. Now I like him and perhaps he sings or plays the piano in the movie. Okay, this movie's looking more palatable. Ah, but the clincher was when I read James Marster's name in the credits. James was the old favorite that my wife mentioned. James played my favorite character Spike in the TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Now I just had to see James in a movie.

And so, I watched all two hours of it. The movie surprised me almost from the start. I was disappointed that James Marster did not have a bigger role but that was irrelevant to the fact that this movie just touched me from beginning to end. The DVD cover called it a romantic comedy. Then how was it that I cried for most of that two hours. Now I may be a softie but I have never, ever cried right through an entire movie. This had more onion factor than Sleepless in Seattle (onions can make you cry - hence onion factor). Darn it! My wife loves to see me cry. It was entrapment.

I won't tell you the story cause that would take the fun out of it. I will tell you that the movie was based on a book by the same name and it was written by Cecilia Ahern who is the daughter of the previous Irish Prime Minister Bertie Ahern.

It did well in the box office and got generally good reviews from cinema goers. The critics on the other hand gave it between a negative review to mixed reviews but then again critics are grouchy individuals who would never admit that they cried.

While I am uncertain that it is best to describe it as a romantic comedy, it is not a romantic tragedy and there are laughs to be had in the movie. It's just that you will still have tears running down your cheeks even when you are laughing.

Watch this movie. I dare you. Just keep the Kleenex handy. As for me, I needed to overdose on Schwarzenegger and the Terminator series to feel like a man again.

Ming Dynasty - Tea Ceremony

Regular readers will remember that I was in Australia at the end of last year. The reason I was there was to help with the preparations and to witness the wedding of my nephew, Ming. Despite the distance, I would like to think that we have always remained quite close even as the boy grew up to be a man. In our culture, we often refer to the couple on their wedding day as King and Queen for a day. So indeed, I feel that with his wedding to his lovely wife Jean, old foggies like myself begin to slide into the sunset to make way for a new exciting chapter in the family history ......the Dynasty of Ming!

The wedding is in three parts; the tea ceremony, the exchange of vows and the wedding dinner. The newly wed couple cannot immediately begin reigning their own household until they pay homage to their parents and elders which they do so by offering cups of tea to their elders as a symbol of servitude and respect. In turn, the parents and elders will give them a symbolic gift or "ang pow" (red packet filled with money) to signal acceptance into the family and also to wish them good fortune in their new life together.

This wedding was also exceptional as the groom was from a Malaysian Chinese culture and the bride was Korean. Hence, the day was full of colourful representation of both rich cultures.

Ming & Jean - the King and Queen for the day, making their entrance

The Tea Ceremony - for Ming's parents

The Korean side of the Dynasty in colourful traditional dress (hanbok)

Malaysian relatives
(Chinese Cheong-sam - ladies at both ends of the line)
(Peranakan Sarong Kebaya - the two ladies 2nd and 3rd from left)
(Batik Shirt - sole gentleman amongst the ladies)

Fruits and cakes from both cultures

Emperor Ming discovers Korean Tradition of carrying Mother-in-law!

All photos are by LGS.

My Ass Hurts!

Ow! Ouch! Ooo! Arrgh! Owwwooowwwoow! Ouch! That was a quick summary of the week that was. If you still haven't got the hint, my ass hurts...............a lot.

Before I go on with my misery report, I would first like to thank all of you for your kind words, prayers and best wishes. They were all much appreciated. Thank you Mark (The Walking Man) for recommending Neurontin; it's the only thing keeping me from screaming. Thank you Proxima for reminding me I am not a spring chicken; I must really remember that so that there will not be a next time.

My mom is doing physically well. Operatio went without a hitch and without any complications. The wound is healing well. She is doing physiotherapy and her strength is returning to her leg. Physically, everything is as good as could be expected but she is a bit depressed and needs to be ordered/cajoled to do her exercise. Surprisingly, her appetite is very good and she might even put on some much needed weight.

As for me, my ass hurts.............. a lot. the doctor has confirmed that I have not one but three prolapsed discs in the lumbar region of the spine. At least two of those are compressing the spine and one is compressing a nerve leaving the spine. I have difficulty walking or standing for more than a minute and I cannot lie down flat. I have been sleeping in a sitting position for the last week.

Prognosis though seems hopeful as it appears to be an old injury which has been aggravated rather than a new one. The doctor recommended a treatment of physiotherapy and traction. I am on neurontin . Surgery will be considered only if the condition shows a deterioration. Doctor cheerfully predicts that I will be incapacitated with pain for at least another two weeks.

That means I am off and working from home. Whether that means I will post on the blog more regularly or less regularly remains to be seen.

In the meantime, a word from the wise, take care of your back or you might get a painful kick in the ass.

Hippy Sick

THIS IS A HIPPIE CHICK

She has n0thing whatsoever to do with today's post other than being a blatant attempt to get more people to visit this blog under false pretenses.

THIS IS A HIP JOINT

WHICH IS ALTOGETHER NOT THE SAME AS A HIPPIE JOINT

My mother, 85 years old, had a fall last Sunday and on Monday, it was confirmed that she had a fracture of the femur near the hip joint. Despite her age, the doctors' concurred that it was best to operate and correct the situation. She subsequently had an operation to insert a metal plate and screw to hold the bone together. Overall, she is recovering well although she now faces several weeks of physiotheraphy. A lot of my time this week has been spent having her X-rays done, visiting doctors, etc.

A few weeks ago, I had a bad fall which resulted in a bruised ego and a trapped nerve. Unfortunately, due to the additional stress from carrying or transporting my mother about, I aggravated the nerve and was in considerable, immobilising pain from that.

So you could say that both of us are currently Hippy Sick and that's the reason I have not been blogging and visiting your blogs lately. I got an injection for the pain this morning and I may be on a Hippie High so please excuse me if parts of this post are senseless, incoherent or even possibly psychedelic!

15th Anniversary

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, BABY!!!!

from our first year of marriage (LGS)


YOU HAVE BEEN FOR ME....
(a poem by LGS to his beloved)

To think that there is someone special for each of us
Somewhere in this world, sometime in this life
Seems illogical to the mind, yet was our experience
You surely are that special one for me, dear wife.

From the beginning you intuitively knew all this,
But I was ensnared by fear of closeness and heartache
Yet your love gave me the courage to take the risk
To entrust to you my heart for to nurture or break

And now many long years have come and gone
Fifteen times the passing of the earth around the sun
Through all that time, our love’s kept growing strong
As we faced life’s challenges and problems as one

You have been for me, the eyes for my heart
Through you I have seen beauty and compassion
Witnessed love burning bright against the dark
Allowing me freedom to experience life’s passions.

You have been for me, ears that listen to my soul
My loftiest dreams, deepest thoughts and rawest feelings
You have been for me, hands that help, soothe, uphold
Hands held in prayer or clapping, cheering, encouraging.

You have been for me, the bosom to rest my head,
Warm, inviting, my source of calm and peace
My sanctuary from a world of turmoil and dread
Where love’s magic restores my heart to bliss.

You have been for me, my all in all, my everything,
And I thank God for these fifteen years as one united
For every precious moment, cherished memory and blessing
And for many more yet to come ‘til life’s journey’s ended.

Down Under Report

It has been a very hectic last two weeks and the madness will continue for at least another week. The net result is that my posting will be a little bit irregular for at least another 10 days. Sorry about that in advance.

I shall actually be flying back from Australia later today but here is a short summary;_
1. Faced one of my greatest fears.
2. Took part in one of the happiest occasion ever.
3. Watched my family grow and also my waistline.
4. Visited a beautiful garden and shared something with dinosaurs.
5. Having faced one of my greatest fears, I stuck out my tongue at it.

Good night Possums. play nice.

My Father

My Father passed away last week after a short illness. He was 93 years old and had lived a long and happy life. I knew, of course, that I would be writing this post but I have wrestled over just how I would write it and what would I say. How does one compress 93 years in one short post? You just can’t. Instead I will just share my thoughts about him.

He was 48 years old when I was born. By then, he was already at the peak of his successful career and had already been a father to two boys and a girl. It had been 8 years since there was a baby in the house. Being the last child and coming so late in his life, I missed out on a lot about my father.

For me, he was never a hands-on type of dad and yet my brothers will tell you that he was very much like that. Their memories are full of family rides on the motorcycle and later the car. They remember him teaching them how to fly kites and the great disastrous day when they let him down and much to his chagrin, failed to hold on to the kites.

For me, he was not an affirming and encouraging dad either. Again my siblings would beg to differ and our family photo albums are full of moments captured of my father posing proudly with his children on the occasion of some academic award or other achievement. I missed out on that too as he seemed too busy with work to be involved much with my school activities and my interests.

My father was a quiet man; a man of few words. It took a long time for me to learn more about him. Most of my childhood, I knew my dad only as the successful office executive who led a conventional but unexciting middle-class life. It was only later that I learnt that early in his life, his work involved him traveling through much of the country at a time when it was certainly adventurous and not particularly safe to do so. Indeed, on one occasion he was robbed and tied to a tree in the jungle.

I never knew the man who was the life of the party, who frequented the lively night-spots or who knew all the smooth dance moves. He surprised me when he danced the cha-cha-cha at my wedding dinner. I never knew.

I believe that life is about choices. My father was not the adventurous, flamboyant playboy because he made a choice and gave it up to be a family man. He chose to be my solid, quiet, constant and dependable dad, who put his family first above all things. He provided me with a stable, happy environment to grow up in.

I know that I am like him in many ways. I am also a quiet person. Like him, I have a passion for books. Through his example, I learnt to be content in any situation. He was scrupulously honest and some of that rubbed off on me. I inherited his passion for food too, perhaps a little too much.

Many people are tempted to claim that their father was the best father in the world. I don’t see how anyone could really know that. When I think of my father and see him with through untinted glasses, I see is a man who could have been much more but who chose being a father and providing for his family as his priority. And he did this to the best of his ability.

I love you dad and I thank you for all the unspoken lessons that I learnt from your life and your example.

Half Post, Half Mast, Full Life

This is just a short post to mark my father's passing. After a short illness, at 6.20 pm on Wednesday the 3rd of October, he drew his last breath and peacefully went to be with the Lord. He was 93. He was alert and aware until the last moments and experienced little pain. All his children were able to come to see him before he passed on. God has indeed been gracious. The whole family will be busy with funeral arrangements for the next couple of days.

Pigs Have Years

The ReUnion Dinner Menu

双 喜 齐 捞 生Double Happiness Yee Sang
菜 胆 鳳 展 翅Double-Boiled Shark’s Fin in Chicken Wing
港 式 沙 皮 乳 豬BBQ Suckling Pig Hong Kong Style
虾 子 酿 脱 参Braised Stuffed Sea Cucumber with Prawns Roe
鲜 竹 云 耳 蒸 龙 趸Steamed Deep-Sea Garoupa with Fresh Beancurd Skin
Black Pepper Beef
Rice Seasoned with Preserved Meats And Chinese Sausages
贵 妃 金 沙 露Sweetened Pumpkin with Yam
酥 皮 窝 餅Chinese Pancake

Gong Xi Fa Cai. May I wish one and all a happy and prosperous Year of the Pig. To commemorate this event which was on the 18th of February, I had intended to write about the Family Reunion dinner which occurs on the eve of the New Year. The reason this post is late, was because I was rather embarrassed. I had intended to take a photo of each and every one of the dishes of a Chinese nine course meal. My good intentions was frustrated as there was a long delay between courses as there were just too many patrons at the restaurant and the staff were unable to cope with the numbers. As a result, I forgot to take the photos the minute the food arrived and suffice to say it disappeared very quickly. There. With my confession out of the way, let me tell you more about the reunion dinner.

The menu is given for your perusal. We took the chef’s recommended menu and made two alterations. In Malaysia, the chef will normally prepare three menus of increasing prices but the number “8” must appear prominently. This is because the words for “8” and for “prosperity” are very similar phonetically and it is considered good luck. Hence, our basic menu cost RM 888/- per table and other menus cost RM 788 and RM 1088. This incidentally is my 88th post.

This year it was just my parents, myself and my wife and my eldest brother and his family attending the dinner. Things have changed within my lifetime. The reunion dinner was something that no one missed. However, the realities of modern living has made that tradition increasingly difficult to observe. I have two other siblings but they and their families no longer live in Malaysia.

My eldest brother is an architect. His eldest daughter is working as a personal assistant to the Director of a manufacturers association. His youngest (son) is studying Mass Communications. One other daughter married last year and so will spend the reunion dinner with her in-laws.

As I said, times and traditions have changed in my lifetime. When I was young, no one works on reunion dinner night and that includes restaurants. In fact many businesses close for at least a week and some for as long as 15 days. Everyone expected to be with their families and have a home cooked meal for New Year’s Eve. Some very traditional families still observe this and even the choice of dishes is predetermined to represent some form of good luck for the coming year. As time moved on in the 1970’s, some restaurant owners tried to stay open during the Chinese New Year period but they had to pay their staff triple salary and the returns were poor as most people continued to eat at home. Today, most families have their reunion dinner at restaurants and the staff are expected to work without extra compensation. This change has been driven by a weakened economy.

I miss the old days. The celebrations and the family gathering were given a higher level of importance and priority which is sadly lacking today.

Here are some of other customs that are also observed but less frequently within the Malaysian Chinese population. Chinese New Year is not just about the day itself but here are 15 days of celebrations and observations. Likewise, one is also expected to carry out certain observances before in preparation for the New Year. The first is the ceremony for the Kitchen God. According to Chinese traditional beliefs, the Kitchen God is like an official sent from Heaven to oversee the well being of the family (he is often represented by an altar in the kitchen). However, a week before the New Year, the Kitchen God returns to Heaven to give a report on the family. Therefore it is important to offer the Kitchen God specially made sticky cakes made from lotus root and other sweets. It symbolizes sealing the mouth of the Kitchen God to prevent him from giving a bad report and if that failed, sweetening his words. It’s implied that the Kitchen God will keep his mouth shut in return for such offerings. In fact, it is a form of theologically inspired bribery.

Another belief which is held strongly by the older generation is that from the eve of the New Year for at least 24 hours, you should not use a broom to sweep the floor because it signifies sweeping all the good luck out of the house.

Firecrackers, which were a Chinese invention, are meant to scare demons away and to usher in prosperity. In Malaysia today, there is a ban on firecrackers for safety as well as noise control reasons. So like it or not the traditions are changing.

One final thought, for many Chinese, the Year of the Pig is generally an auspicious year for having babies. So watch out for a baby boom.

14 Good Ones

This is where I proposed 15 years ago

Tuesday, 9th of January, 2007. It's early in the morning and I am lying in bed with my thoughts still in slumberland where I am dancing with sugarplum fairies. All of a sudden, my wife pounces on top of me and when I open my eyes a crack, I see her smiling face (she can look very cherubic at times, the picture of innocence) and she chirps, "What day is it?"

I wake up with all alarm bells ringing. My eyes dart around the room looking for clues. Birthday? No. Ummm. Ummm. "Happy Anniversary!", I venture and am rewarded with a kiss. Yea! Got it right.

My wife and I have been blessed with 14 years of maritial bliss. I thank God for guiding us through and blessing us all those years and providing friends to help us in our life journey together. I look forward to growing old together.

We celebrated with a meal at the fancy Sudu Restaurant in the Kuala Lumpur Hilton. It is a nice place with friendly staff and we felt very at ease. The Sudu concept is that you order a main meal but starters and dessert is available from a eclectic buffet spread. Lobster was available but I decided to go for the beef which was served with truffle sauce. I had never, never tried truffle and was curious. I was a little disappointed when the beef arrived but there was nothing physically recognisable as a truffle on it. My wife being more socially confident than me, asked the waiter about it and he confirmed that the truffle had been mashed into the sauce. However, he was kind enough to return from the kitchen with two thin slivers of truffle in oil, just for me. Once again, I was blessed to have a wife that complimented me so well and made us a winning combination.

About the truffles, nice texture and aroma and taste but I am still amazed that it is such a costly condiment. The funny thing is if you explain to a Malaysian what a truffle is and you mention that pigs love it - it puts them off straight away cause in our culture, pigs are considered filthy and what pigs love cannot be very good.

Anyway, a nice dinner, a pleasant evening and we are keeping our love alive and exciting. All seems well in the world tonight.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MRS. SQUIRREL!!!

Grumpy after Christmas

It’s the day after Christmas and I am GRUMPY. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good Christmas which started with a church service in which the young people did a wonderful sketch or skit in which the local Bethlehem newspaper reporters try to get a photo of the birth of Christ. They start off well, talking about the importance and uniqueness of Christ and try to take a photo of the baby Jesus in the manger with Mary and Joseph behind looking at him, the parents – to get the family angle. Then the photographer decides to emphasise that the birth is in a manger by trying to place the cow and the donkey in the picture.

“Well, if you are going to have the cow and donkey, then I insist we include the shepherds and their flocks of sheep.” retorts the reporter and she invites the shepherds to line up for the photograph.

Well, next the three wisemen arrive and they cannot be left out of the picture and if them, why not invite jolly Santa as well. Then if Santa is in the picture, the story would not be complete if there was no Christmas tree, presents, kids having fun or mother’s baking cookies. Let’s not forget to include the business angle too with shop owners and businesses offering discounts and holiday offers.

And so on and so forth, until there is a huge crowd of characters all trying to crowd into the picture. The photographer tries to frame the picture and asks the reporter for advice. They both agree the picture is too cluttered and decide to remove the baby and the manger so that everyone else can move closer together and be included in the picture. So finally, reporter and photographer have an article about how everyone else had been involved in Christmas without the inconvenience of having to cover a story about a tiny baby and what he became.

Okay back to being GRUMPY!. I also had a wonderful Briayni Rice dinner with close friends, drank merry measures of Australian and French wines, and perhaps slept a little too late. So perhaps the late night led partially to a grumpy morning since over here it is not a holiday and I had to work.

But the number one reason that I am GRUMPY is because of children’s books. My host for Christmas dinner, has a cute little three year old minx named, Emma. Emma loves parties and had a great time greeting guests at the door, relieving them of Christmas presents and placing the presents under the Christmas tree. Unusual for a child her age, she had no great urge to rip open the presents, preferring to decorate the tree with them.

Nevertheless, when I dropped by early this morning before I went to work, she had unwrapped several books. I, of course, obliged when she asked me to read a short children’s book to her. I read the book aloud with gusto, giving different voices to the different weird characters in the tale. However, long before I reached the end of the story I was dismayed.

The story was about a starving anteater who meets characters like the umbrella eater and the sticky tape sucker and the walking stick licker and the encyclopedia chomper. He asks each of them in turn if they have any ants as he is starving but they either don’t care or don’t bother to understand his needs and the anteater has misadventures trying to eat umbrellas, suck sticky tapes, lick walking sticks and chomp encyclopedias. At last he meets one creature who takes him home and there in his home was an ants nest and the anteater gratefully feasted on the ants until he was no longer starving but was full and plump. At this point, he thanks his benefactor and asks how is it there is an ants nest in his house. The benefactor then reveals that he has the ants nest as he is an anteater eater and proceeds to eat our anteater.

Why? Why would someone write a story like that for children? It does not teach compassion for the starving anteater but it teaches fear of strangers and not to trust anyone’s benevolence. The child is invited to laugh at the anteater’s misfortunes, ridicule and ultimately his death.

I brought it to the attention of Emma’s mother who informed me that she had already banned another book earlier that morning. In this other book, the hero of the story refers to the other characters as Stupid. Why would we want our children to learn to call other children “hey Stupid.” Why would anyone write this for children?

I never believed that we had to ban books or watch what our children read until now. Watching out for trash in children’s literature? Well, sign me up.

Now that’s why I am GRUMPY one day after Christmas.

Meet Grumpy, the Children's Literature Watchdog

3 Crisises, 6 dogs and 1 tree

There's a Squirrel family reunion tonight on account of my mother's 85th birthday. So no blogging thoughts tonight. Instead, standing in for me tonight shall be 3 Santas, 6 dogs, 1 tree, some reindeer and a bulky Kiwi with a razor. Good viewing and good night.

Stephen and Su Kim; God bless and long life

Congratulations!!!!

Stephen & Su Kim

on the occassion of their Marraige (18th November 2006)

Stephen and Su Kim, we are all so happy for you. You are good for each other and you are great together. We wish you a very happy and blessed life together.

It was a night of celebration, a gathering of clans, Malaysian (Peranakan) and New Zealanders (Kiwis). A union of two life-embracing spirits with a shared passion for languages and peoples. The various speeches and emails from a round the world testify to how loved this couple are.

It was a night where languages and cultures mixed freely and happily. English in both Malaysian and Kiwi accents and slangs were heard and even Singlish from our neighbours to the south. Malay with a Peranakan twist was heard too and we were also treated to a good dose of Maori. Finally there was liberal use of chinese "Yam Seng" when the couple were repeatedly toasted by friends and family.

Carrying on with the literary theme. The groom gave a beautiful rendition of a poem he wrote entitled "Cape Richardo" which spoke of his desire to fly to be by his love's side. It was wonderful but way too long for this nutter to remember and report. The bride replied with equal eloquence and shared a traditional Peranakan pantun (poem). Fortunately this traditional poem is short by nature and hence I am able to recall it here;

"Kita belayar, laju, laju,

Menuju ke kota Singapura.

Lupakan layar, lupakan baju,

Asalkan jangan lupakan saya."

In English the poem says; " We are sailing fast, heading for Singapore. You may forget the sail or even your clothes, but never, never forget me." This is in the traditional pantun style where the first two lines tell a story which has little meaning but is followed by two lines that convey the deep message.

Before I end, I must mention my good friend Harriet who was very nervous about giving her speech. It turned out to be warm and humorous. A job well done.