Tag: family

Categories
personal

Travelogue: Bermuda 2024 Pt 1 – The Grossness

Mezcal is not my friend either

Since both the Firecracker and I like cruising, we were keeping our eyes out for any last-minute trips that worked with our schedule since we didn’t get a chance to bring the kids anywhere over the summer.

Well, we came across the MSC Meraviglia, which left just from Brooklyn.

Interestingly, it was the very same ship we saw when we were on Governors Island, last.

Unfortunately, all the mezcal from the previous night hit me HARD the next morning.

It turns out that mezcal affects me even worse than tequila and I woke up feeling like death.

And that’s when I started my hourly trips to the bathroom.

Imagine your worst trip to the tiniest room times 16.

And then place at least half of those trips took place in very questionable public bathrooms.

Literally, every hour, on the hour, I had to scramble – heavy with luggage and feeling as weak as water in the rain – to find a bathroom and do my (very gross) duty.

Her: Listen, you gotta rally. They’re not gonna let you on the ship if you look like you’re sick and they won’t believe it’s alcohol poisoning.
Me: I’m not unaware. (pause) Annnnnd, I gotta go again.

Somehow, we made it onto the ferry where I tried my level best not to leave my DNA.

I was resolutely unsuccessful, although I did manage to leave it in the proper area within the bathroom.

The boy, however, was completely unfazed and still pretty excited for his second cruise.

Managed to put on a stoic face long enough to make it onto the ship where I entered my room, despite being told it wouldn’t be ready for another three hours.

Attendant: I’m sorry sir, your room isn’t ready yet.
Me: Is it possible for you to just clean around me? I just want to nap on the couch.
Him: OK, sir.

I was hoping he wasn’t gonna narc and he didn’t.

The Firecracker took care of both kids the first two days as I just stayed in the bed and went to the bathroom.

Again, every hour, on the hour for 48 hours.

She did manage to enjoy herself without me, which I found shocking.

I literally ate nuthin but bread and water those first 48 hours.

Boy: I’ve never seen you eat this many carbs.
Me: (eating another roll) This is how papa’s gonna be for a while.

This is pretty much all I ate for the first two days. It was carbtastic!

Well, I did try to have some French onion soup.

That was ill-advised.

Now, I thought that I did a pretty good job hiding how rotten I felt.

Me: (weakly but proudly) I don’t think anyone could tell.
Her: (laughing) Are you kidding me? The waiter immediately asked, once you left, “Is your husband feeling ok?”
Me: And there I thought I was doing some Oscar quality work. (shaking head) I’m a terrible liar.

The next night, I felt ok enough to hit up a show…

…or two…

…but it was a struggle.

I’ll write more tomorrow but not mention the unpleasantness.

Until then, enjoy the Firecracker almost killing the second performer; prior to this, the kid was the star of the show – the emcee selected him to talk about his trip to the ship and, man, did he have a lot to say – but I didn’t record it because I was laughing so much.

Shame really…

I’ll end with a sunny shot of the Firecracker.

Still felt like death while taking it.

Location: back in the hood
Mood: less gross
Music: Sick of rainy weather but I know we’ll be fine (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

SAFE on a rooftop

She and her granny cart

Me: Why don’t I just carry everything, so we don’t have to bring your granny cart?
Her: I LOVE my granny cart! Besides, how are you gonna carry everything.
Me: Hold on. (thinking) If I have seven cans of oil-based paint, and a gallon of oil weights approximately 7 pounds, that means I’m carrying around 50 pounds. (sighing) Fiiiine, bring your granny cart.
Her: You’re gonna be so happy I brought it when you realize how much we’re gonna be carrying.

The Firecracker proudly using her granny cart to haul away a hoverboard and a buncha paint cans.

The first time I went to the Firecracker’s pad, I asked her why she had a vacuum cleaner and a kid’s hoverboard in her bedroom.

Her: They both have batteries in them that I have to wait until the city will take them.
Me: How long have you been holding onto them?
Her: A year?

I understood.

I’ve had paint and tar in my basement for at least the last 25 years and some were there when I moved in, meaning that two or three cans were like 35 years old.

We kept waiting for the next NYC SAFE (Solvents, Automotive, Flammables, and Electronics) Disposal event – something usually came up each time, so she was closing in on three years of holding onto the hoverboard and vacuum.

This is what the SAFE Event looked like.

This latest one was right by my gym BUT we were filming on the day of it, and I had to carry a whole boatload of costumes down from my pad for it, so we figured we’d miss this one too.

That is, until I got whacked in the face by my buddy Prin.

Her: Hey, we can go to the SAFE Event now!
Me: OMG, you’re right!
Her: See! Always look on the bright side.

So, we packed up her granny cart and headed downtown to do just that.

That was pretty quick, so we hit up a clothing store as the Firecracker needed some new gear.

Afterward, I rang up my buddy Ricky – as we were near his pad – and he said he was actually in a cafe just around the block from where we were.

We ended up walking over to his pad and chilling out on his gorgeous rooftop deck.

I brought some pork rinds, and he brought a bottle of sweet Moscato.

Honestly, I’m not sure life in NYC gets better than this.

Me: That’s what we like the most, random cool meetup with friends.
Her: Especially friends with roof decks!
Him: (laughing) Well, I’m glad you called then.

Location: this morning, an early ferry to Red Hook with the fam
Mood: excited
Music: You and me is more than a hundred miles (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Saying goodbye to summer

With the help of Mr. Softie

Honestly don’t know why anyone reads this here blog as it’s so…boring.

To wit, I’ve recently been entertained that all 12 eggs in a single carton of eggs has given me double yolks every single time.

And these were just normal/typical eggs from Trader Joe’s.

This is what counts as high excitement in the Lo household these days.

Him: What’s the equinox?
Me: It’s when the sun crosses the equator and day, and night are pretty much exactly equal in length. For our purposes, though, it’s the end of summer and winter and the start of fall and spring.

The kid’s been getting used to his new school and afterschool life.

I did, however promise him ice cream from the ice cream truck.

I also got one for the Firecracker just so she didn’t feel left out…and so she knew what a proper ice cream truck was/is.

Plus, ice cream trucks have been struggling lately so I figure it’s good to support them while we can.

In NYC, Mr. Softie has always been a mainstay – it’d be a shame if they didn’t make it.

The Firecracker was happy to get her own cone, which was a basic soft-serve vanilla.

That’s one thing we both share in common – a love of the simple things in life like ice cream from an ice cream truck and drinking wine on a city stoop.

Me: I’m really looking forward to that Chinese food.
Firecracker: I’m really looking forward to this – sitting on a city stoop drinking wine with my favourite person.
Me: Screw you, I’m here.
Her: Well, two outta three ain’t bad.

Well, that and finding a carton fulla double-yolk eggs…

Me: Is it lame to write about eggs?
Her: Hmm, well, you could reference rebirth and new beginnings?
Me: Nah, I’m just gonna write about double yolk eggs and see how that goes.
Her: Well, I think it’s cool.
Me: And that’s why we’re together.

Location: the kid’s gym, watching him try to do a double-leg. It’s a process…
Mood: ueber productive
Music: It feels like letting go. Oh, it smells like summer (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

It was glorious

Just glorious

With alla the changes around here, the Firecracker noted that my curtains were looking a bit worn.

Alison had put them in, so they held some sentimental value for me. But I also realized that Alison was a pretty unsentimental person when it came to home economics.

Like, she definitely woulda tossed these a while ago if she were here so I relented and we took them down and the Firecracker hemmed some new ones in navy blue.

I like that she’s leaving her mark here in my world.

Afterward, we went off to see ABFF.

Her: Hey how are you guys? Let me know if a dinner could work for you guys this coming Sat?
Me: Yup! Gyros? Fried Chix? Sushi? We just did pizza so maybe not that unless they’re dying for that?
Her: They are telling me anything.
Me: Halal guys?!
Her: Looks good.

So, I packed everyone up and we went to see them.

On the way there to Halal Guys, I passed by a Popeyes.

Me: Man, I also want a chicken sammie.
Her: I can get that while you get gyros so you can have both.
Me: You’re the best, thanks!

We did just that.

It was nice seeing all the kids together again – they’d not seen each other since May or so I think.

The ABFF’s kids are super artistic; below is a balloon that one of them (or one of their friends, I’m not sure) drew of an elderly politician.

Son: Can I stay over and have a sleepover?
Me: I dunno, you don’t have any clothes and…
ABFF: He can if you’re ok with it.
Him: CAN I?!
Me: (laughing) As long as she’s ok with it, you can.

So, the kid stayed over (her kid was with his dad) and the Firecracker and I went home, bellies full, and did what all parents secretly wanna do when the kids are away…we crashed.

We crashed hard and fast, and it was glorious.

Glorious.

Location: earlier tonight, my kid’s classroom, appreciating the air conditioning
Mood: hungry
Music: The crib looking Victorian (Oh, yes, it is) You know that we been going in (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

A train adventure

The end of Summer 2024

The kid started school the other day so, as a last hurrah – and because both my kid and the Firecracker’s kid love trains – we went on a train adventure the other day.

NJ Transit has been having alla these issues lately so, as a mea culpa, they offered free train rides all week last week.

Now, my kid was already at my in-laws so, bright and early one day, I went to get him.

But not before fueling up with some empty carbs.

Carbed-up, we hopped the train…

…transferred to another train, and then got off at Journal Square.

It was super cute, when he saw the Firecracker, he like RAN to give her a hug.

They both played at the playground for a bit…

…before we went in search of food.

We found this cool little joint called White Star and ordered a ton of food and drink.

We continued our train adventures by hopping the light rail to see my SIL.

Her: Can you help me bring a rug to my basement?
Me: Sure!

It was a HUGE rug so I should really ask details before I agree to stuff.

Afterwards, she gave us a lift to the local pier…

…where the kids had more fun.

And then we walked through Hoboken…

…to get to Benny Tudino’s for one of their obnoxiously huge slices of pizza.

It was actually his second time there – I told you about the first time we went back in 2021.

Bellies full, and fully exhausted, we headed back home.

All-in-all, it was a good way to end out the summer.

Him: I’m a little worried about school.
Me: You’re always a little worried about school. That’s normal. But, every year, it turns out ok, right?
Him: I guess so.
Me: You’ll be fine. You gotta trust me here.

Location: under my kitchen sink, looking at a huge puddle of water
Mood: @#$@#$@ exhausted
Music: I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Just a little bit longer

Doing a good deed

My fave local dive bar put in a kitchen not that long ago – I think they did it over COVID, maybe?

But it really doesn’t offer much. Historically, it was a BYO food joint, with a ton of people, myself included, that used to order pizzas and stuff to the bar itself.

Well, the Firecracker wanted to hang out at a bar the other night, but she also wanted a banh mi while I was kinda in the mood for a gyro.

Me: I know! We can each get exactly what we want and bring it over to the dive bar.
Her: That works for me as long as we get to sit outside and enjoy the weather.
Me: Done!

So, we did just that.

Ended up sitting next to these three young British sailors that were in town until 3AM.

Me: Oh, fellas, you’re in the wrong bar. You should be at Tiki Chik or someplace like that.
Her: Yeah, there are no women here, but there’s definitely gonna be girls there.

They appreciated the suggestion and left.

We were happy to have done a good deed and had a nice dinner with drinks for ourselves.

There’s a lot to be said for a simple life.

On that note, the kid just got back to start school.

I’m super excited but also a bit sad in that the years seem to be sprinting by.

If only I could keep him my little boy just a little bit longer.

Location: the start of a new school year
Mood: anxious but hopeful
Music: don’t know if this is real life – what happens if I open my eyes? (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Tigers with different stripes, Pt 2

The best five days of my life

The other thing about my dad/family was something else that I also learned in Cornell: When I took my first Chinese language class, the teacher asked how to say “maternal grandmother” in Chinese.

I confidently said, “阿婆 (ā pó)” but was corrected, it was “外婆 (wàipó).”

I’d never heard of 外婆 (wàipó) before, we never used that term nor had I ever heard it before.

Me: I was so embarrassed that I got that wrong. Why didn’t we use the right way of saying it for [mom’s mom]?
Father: Do you know what 外婆 means? It means “outside grandmother.” That’s what you call the wife’s mother because, in Chinese culture, the mother’s family and side doesn’t count – they’re outsiders and not really part of the family. That’s wrong, I think, and offensive. Your mom’s family is as much a part of our family as mine is.

For all my dad’s traditions and pressure, he was a decent and fair man and that story perfectly encapsulates him.

It was a simple but profound thing, which makes sense as he was both a simple and profound man.

And I think that a major reason the three of us – my sister, brother, and myself – have been so successful in life.

Moreso than the education and the accolates.

Because I suppose we always knew that, no matter what, our parents loved us and always would.

That’s a powerful comfort in an uncomfortable world and something that I hope I give my own kid.

Yeah, if there’s one thing that I’d like to pass on from my dad to my own kid, it’s that.

My dad died August 24th, 2017, seven years ago this week.

I love him every bit right now as I did seven years ago and always will.

Even though, at times, I wonder if he knew.

Me: (angrily) Yeah, well, you wait. My kid is gonna be successful and happy. It won’t matter to me if he goes to an ivy league or not.
Him: You’re threatening me with a happy and successful grandkid? (laughing) Go ahead. Because that’s exactly what I want too. When you’re a dad yourself, you’ll understand. I’m trying to keep you all safe.

And, of course, I totally care if he makes it into an ivy league or not.

Just maybe – maybe – not quite as much.

Did you know that no two tigers have the same stripes?

A tiger’s pattern is as unique as human fingerprints AND not only is a tiger’s fur striped, but its skin is also striped as well.

It has hidden beauties you wouldn’t know about while it was alive.

This also means that every tiger is different from every other tiger, despite all outward appearances.

My dad may have been Chinese, but he was so different in many ways and uniquely mine.

I wish he was still here.

But I suppose you already knew that.

The picture above is the day my parents met my son.

It’s one of only a handful of pictures I have with all three of them.

The main picture is another of the few – precious – images I have of my father with my son.

I have none with him, Alison, and my son. Zero fucking pictures.

Not a single goddamn one.

And everything went to shit after that picture.

But, for a moment in time, that was the happiest I ever was because my entire family was alive and happy for five days.

I didn’t yet know that would be all I would ever get. Ever.

Those were the best five days of my life.

What a shitty truth it is that the lucky never realize they are lucky until it’s too late. 

Location: yesterday and today, bars. Drinking it all away.
Mood: cautious
Music: I’ve got memories and travel like gypsies in the night (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Tigers with different stripes, Pt 1

My parents told us they loved us

My father and I used to argue a lot.

My 20s and 30s were particularly acrimonious and again when he died, just because I loved him so and yet we were at odds over so many things.

I also wasn’t exactly right in the head back then, but I’m guessing you knew that.

Both my parents were stereotypical Tiger Parents in that we never played sports – ever – and instead spent every single summer and afternoon studying; we studied for school, for the SSHATs, then the SATs, AP classes, whathaveyou.

In one particularly bad argument, I accused my dad of stealing our childhoods.

Me: That was crazy that all we did was study.
Him: When you have three kids that made it into Stuyvesant and an ivy league, then you can tell me that I did something wrong.

Having a kid of my own, I realize how impressive what he did was. After all, he came here not speaking the language, with almost no money, and – within a generation – had three ivy league-educated Stuyvesant grads.

That would be an accomplishment for everyone.

This picture was taken a half a century ago when I had just turned two.

But in two distinct ways, he was radically different from most Chinese fathers.

The first was when he dropped me off at Cornell and both he and my mom told me they loved me and were proud of me.

After they left, my Chinese roommate came up to me.

Him: Were your parents born here?
Me: (laughing) What? No, they’re both from Taiwan.
Him: I’ve never heard of any Chinese parents that told their kids they loved them. (thinking) My parents have never told me that. (pause) They’ve never told me they were proud of me.

Didn’t know what to say.

If anything, my parents would go out of their way to scream that they loved me on the top of their lungs when they dropped us off someplace just to embarrass us.

This is such a stereotype that this Asian comedian has a whole bit on the subject:

But that wasn’t my experience at all.

I’ll tell you the second thing that made him very different – at least to me – on Monday.

Location: my basement, being told that the building’s electrical wiring all needs to be pulled out
Mood: nostalgic
Music: Can’t go back to the place I’ve been. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I been away too long (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Pier 72, 11 years, Kossar’s

A kindness I’d never forgotten

Almost exactly 11 years ago, on August 6th, 2013, I went with Alison to a cafe a few blocks south of me called Pier 72.

We went there a couple of times but, really, hardly ever went there because it was a bit older than other joints in the area, but the food was good, the people nice, and the prices pretty cheap.

I don’t think we went there again after that; well, she didn’t, for reasons you already know.

I did because, when she was sick and losing all that weight from the chemo, she turned to me one day and said, randomly, “I could eat a patty melt.”

So, I asked her what that was and she told me.

Then I ran to Pier 72 because it was certain it would have it.

I was wrong.

Him: Sorry, we don’t sell that here.
Me: Please. It looks like this (shows him a picture). My wife…she’s…sick. She hasn’t eaten in days and I’m worried she’ll die. I can pay whatever you’d like for it.
Him: (gently) It looks like a cheeseburger on a sliced bread. I can do that for you.
Me: Yes. Please. I mean, thank you. I’ll pay whatever you think is fair.
Him: (shaking his head) It’s a cheeseburger on toast with onions. Just pay what we charge for a burger. Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it for her.

Went there a few times after that, always getting a patty melt and maybe a Reuben for me. Alison only ate a little each time.

It was a kindness I’d never forgotten. It was one of the only things Alison would agree to eat.

They shut down after COVID.

For years afterward, it was empty.

But, one day recently, the joint opened as a Kossar’s Bagel and Bialys.

The kid’s been asking to go for ages, and I finally brought him the other day.

We couldn’t sit where Alison and I last sat when it was Pier 72 because that became the cream cheese display.

So, we sat across from it and I looked at the corner of where we sat, almost exactly 11 years earlier and I could hear her voice in my head.

Something about the fact that I was sitting there with her son but not her hurt me in ways I can’t fully express nor explain.

Then the boy’s voice cut through my thoughts.

Him: I love the everything bagel! Can we come back here again?
Me: (distracted) Oh…sure. Of course.
Him: What’s wrong? You look like you’re crying.
Me: (clearing throat) Oh, it’s the summer. Allergies, you know…
Him: I’m sorry you have allergies, papa.
Me: It’s ok. I’m always ok when you’re around.
Him: Yay! Me too!

Location: at H Mart, looking for kombucha with the Firecracker
Mood: pensive
Music: You’re the movie in my mind to which I know every line (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Doing the right thing

Two different kids

Went to see my mom and sister for my nephew’s birthday the other day.

We went to Flushing first to get some dumplings from White Bear,…

…some Taiwanese from the local mall, and to get a little shopping done before heading to their place in Queens.

We didn’t eat all that much because my sister was going to get ribs and pizza for everyone for the bday.

It was a small affair, just some of my nephew’s school friends and us.

But, in the middle of it, a neighbor’s kid that stopped by for a brief bit and he was…just awful.

Obnoxious, loud, rude, etc. But I found out afterward that his family life was pretty rough and then I was torn.

Like, people are the way that they are because of their upbringing.

Then, on the ride home, we were in a packed subway car, and it was the NYC Dominican Day Parade.

Well, it was like half the parade was trying to be in our subway car.

In the middle of it, a teen girl turned on music, began dancing inappropriately, and then started vaping in front of my kid.

Me: (tapping her on the shoulder) Hey, can you not do that? My kid is right here.
Her: OK, sorry.

And she stopped. Also heard her say to her friends – that had packed the car and were also vaping, “Hey, there are kids here!”

When we left, I tapped the girl’s shoulder again.

Me: Hey, thanks for doing that.
Her: No worries, mister. Sorry about that.
Her friend: Yeah, sorry mister.
Me: You did the right thing here, so…thanks.

Martin Luther King Jr’s in the news again lately, for the most ridiculous reason.

But he had a quote on the topic that I’ve always liked that seems appropriate to this situation: The time is always right to do the right thing.

As we walked home, the kid talked to me about it all.

Him: They were really loud and scary. Why did you thank her?
Me: Because she did the right thing in the end. Yes, she should have been quieter and yes, she shouldn’t have vaped in the first place. But when someone recognizes they did something wrong and try to fix what they did, you have to give them credit for that.
Him: She was still really loud and scary.
Me: (nodding) Yes. But she was trying to do the right thing in the end. And we always hope that, even if it takes a long time, ultimately, people do the right thing. Maybe next time, she’ll be even better.

Location: a playground, watching a mouse explode
Mood: nauseated
Music: This is a moment in the prime of your life – you better own it (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.