Where does the name “Luo” or “Lo” come from?
Yesterday, I met a couple going to Beijing and a boy studying Chinese. It made me remember my younger days.
There was a time when your last name told something about what you did or where you came from.
I once briefly saw a woman named Zelle, meaning cabinet in German. She figured some ancestor made cabinets. That, or hid bodies inside them.
My name was won by some ancestor who did some great deed and was asked by the emperor what he wanted. Like all good Chinese, he said, simply, “Land.”
So, 1200 years ago, he was given a tract of land in northern China in the Bing Province with a river on it – the Luo River.
Fast forward to 20070402, and I’m Lo/Luo version 120b.
Imagine if we started over again today.
We’d have names like, “Pete Accountmanager” or “Mandy Producer.” Or names like, “Edward Google,” “Sandy Fresh Direct” or “John Morgan Stanley.”
OK, maybe that last one works. You get my point.
1201 years of work and I’m the result. It’s humbling and laughable.
I know where I come from.
But where am I going?
Location: @3:00AM, in the 80s, looking for a cricket
Music: You should turn yourself around and come on home
I’d like to move away – but I’d miss my family
The funeral I went to has been on my mind. It’s made me pensive and sappy.
I have no death wish – far from it. I have a master plan to live until I’m 100. But the plans of mice and men…
What I think about is whether or not I’ll get to find out if my father is right or wrong.
My father, you see, believes me in. I don’t know why, especially in light of my dismal track record in, well…just about everything. Yet, he thinks that I am capable of things I don’t think I am.
He always says, The race is long, one day you’ll fly.
Maybe he’s just like every other dad in the world. Maybe he really believes it.
I like to think he believes it.
That’s the real reason I don’t just pack up and leave to Beijing, Berlin or someplace where no one knows me, you know?
Because it would be nice if I could prove him right.
And I’d miss them all.
Location: sick in bed
Music: So, all alone I keep the wolves at bay
The Sweetest Words in the English Language
I humbly submit that the poets are wrong when they say that the sweetest words are, “I love you.”
The way we use it these days (“I love that place;” “I love that show;” etc) cheapens it a lot.
December 2006 has been a horrid month for several friends of mine – some suffered the worst shock one can get, others had lesser shocks that still brought them to their knees. Five days ago, I got a call from a girl I only met once who said that she found out her boyfriend cheated on her. I got the call only because I was close by but I’m ok with that.
Four days ago, I got a call from a very close friend of mine who told me his mother passed away.
The time from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day is usually the best time of year for me. The best time. It’s so sad.
When my breakup happened, I called my brother, my sister and my friend Tommy.
- My brother lives 1286.44 miles away but he caught the first flight here.
- My sister is nearer and caught the next train.
- Johnny, who had just returned from four months in China that morning, arrived at my place first.
I’m surprisingly toungue-tied at times where people’s hearts eat them up from the inside out. I think I’m at my best when I keep it simple and say what my brother, sister and Tommy said in one way or another:
I’m on my way.
Now I submit that those words…those words will make a grown man cry.
Location: @7:20 on Rt. 3, going home – like old times
Music: Baby’s got blue skies up ahead but in this I’m a rain cloud