Posts

My alarm goes off at 7am but I’m already awake. Not awake from the excitement of Christmas morning but awake because I’m a morning person. That and I’m old and need to pee. Amanda and Sabrina are asleep next to me. Elisa is in the next room. In recent years we’ve opened presents about mid-day but on this Christmas Elisa has volleyball camp so we decide to open gifts before she needs to leave. Elisa wakes soon after me and we share American style donuts for breakfast which has become a bit of a tradition. Elisa has the glaze and I have the boston cream. I wake up Sabrina and Amanda and we are soon gathered in front of our mid size tree that sits atop a coffee table. It is the best looking tree we’ve had since moving to China thanks to Sabrina (I had a habit of somehow buying sad looking Christmas trees). ...

Amanda awakes from her sleep and looks around. Her gaze settles on me. She smiles. I pull her close. She gaggles. I kiss/pluck her hands which she baby laughs at. I tilt her back and forward. I make punching motions with her little arms. She’s about as happy as can be. But it doesn’t last, she’s still tired. Her face begins to crack and then a cry comes forth. I get up from the bed, holding her in my arms and walk around the room. She settles. But it doesn’t last. More crying. Sabrina normally comforts her, but Sabrina is out walking Kobe who’s on a smell fest. My worry about Amanda crying isn’t putting her to sleep - that will come - but that Sabrina’s father will feel compelled to help. And sure enough, moments later, he’s at the bedroom door, turning on the light and motioning for me to hand Amanda over. I motion him away. He leaves. I walk Amanda around some more. She’s calmer. Saving strength for the next cry which is loud and sustained. The father comes back to the room. I give up and hand Amanda over. I text Sabrina that I want to leave and in the moment I was ready too. But Amanda is still crying. I pace. Then Sabrina is back and all is calm. ...

It is maybe 1974 and the station wagon is packed with a tent, a cooler, and sleeping bags. We load up into the car. I’m not sure who sat where but I was either in the back seat or the back of the wagon with Pat. The car heads down Spruce, down that steep include. We are excited. Maybe a bit noisy. My dad explodes. Then controls it. Then explains it. We are quiet. For a long while. My next memory is of the campsite. I imagine us pouring out of the station wagon. I remember the ordeal of setting up the tent we would not sleep in it. I remember being sent off to find firewood. I remember the best part being with my brothers. I remember the car always seems to be on the verge of overheating or losing it’s breaks. How my dad would not want to use the brakes when going down the mountain for fear of losing them. How it scared me to death. ...

I’m driving in Concord. Elisa is in the back seat. She’s chatty. The trip was needed and now it was worth it. There is a lot to be grateful for in my first trip to North America since Covid. There was seeing Aidan’s and Lydia’s college and a bit of their life in Toronto. There was that damn good food court pita bread sandwich Aidan introduced me to. There was watching Dahmer with Lydia. There was Niagra falls. A Blue Jays game. There was the view from Yang’s high-rise apartment. ...

Early into Covid, April 2020, Yang and the kids went to Wangjing No. 1 restaurant for lunch. It’s been a family favorite for years. Including the before years. Spicy fish is the specialty. It’s out of the way in an old complex arranged like an old hutong courtyard. As the kids entered with Yang, they were told foreigners were not allowed. Yang argued of course but to no avail. This was during the height of the covid xenophobic phase here. Maybe xenophobic is too strong of a word. While Covid had started in Wuhan a few months earlier, it had pretty much been eradicated in China. The only new cases were from overseas travelers who, if tested positive, were quarantined. Of course most of the overseas travelers where Chinese nationals and most of the foreigners looked Chinese. It was the foreign looking foreigners who got special treatment, like my kids at this restaurant. Maybe I was too quick to dismiss xenophobic. ...

Amanda is a week old when our apartment door rings to let in the neighborhood community doctor. I let her in, holding Kobe back from jumping on her. She wears a mask and talks with Sabrina. She examines Amanda. Gives some advice which I’ve forgotten and after about 20 minutes is gone. When Amanda is a month old, she’s back this time wearing tennis shoes. A bit sporty. More examinations, more talk, and then she’s gone. That was the extent of the official neighborhood wellness checks as we opted to use the services of the same hospital Sabrina gave birth at. ...

The morning of Amanda’s 98th day, I met Yang and Lydia in south Beijing at the secondhand car market to transfer our small car title from Yang to Lydia. This is probably worthy of a post on its own. Let’s just say it’s been a 2.5 year process to do the transfer so that I can eventually get a new car. With the transfer, we had to give up the car’s iconic black plate. Foreigner registered cars prior to 2008 had them and made us feel a bit “special”. ...

(disclaimer: memories are brittle and fleeting) My brother Jimmy passed away around noon Beijing time last Sunday, July 9, 2023. He was 72 or 73 years old. Very few people really know us for our entire life. Parents, older siblings. One of my earliest memories was with him. Not a clear memory, a feeling, an impression. Joy, fun, safe. I was maybe three and in his bedroom which was in my parents basement. It was a place of music and coolness and expressiveness. Later that year, another memory. Trama. A fight of some kind. He’s leaving home. Kicked out. Again, no concrete memories but a dire dark feeling. Shaping experiences. ...

It’s 95F and a bit humid. I’m finishing a run then walking next to the Utown mall across from my apartment. My mind is down a winding, messy path. Thinking about life problems. Work problems. I don’t really have anyone I can talk to about these things. Or I should say, I don’t have anyone I would burden with my thoughts. So, I find my mind, as it often does, talking to my brother Jim. ...

I’m listening to a podcast and the guest says there’s a huge spike in physical and mental fitness the year before people hit a milestone birthday. That the 29, 39, 49, and 59 years see an increase in gym membership and therapy sessions. That you clearly see a spike in marathon runners at 29, 39, and 49 years old. I remember when I was 29 and at home bored. I was alone at that point and not really wanting to be alone. I was in pretty good shape from playing basketball three days a week. I decided to go for a run. It was 100F degrees out. I flew down Concord Blvd thinking I would cut back on Ygnacio but was feeling so good I kept going. It was in the direction of a house where a woman I liked but shouldn’t like lived. I’m sure it helped with my pace. I cut over to Clayton road and headed back. I felt I could push my body to a near sprint. I ran in a few for-fun races that year and it was the fastest I would ever run seven miles. I signed up for some half marathons. ...