Tag: love

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Thanksgiving 2024: Linner by mine

Really great

For the first time in 27 years, my mom and my sister and her family came to my pad for Thanksgiving.

Mom: Thank you for inviting us!
Me: Are you kidding? I can’t believe you’re here!

We had to do it early, though, because the Firecracker had to get her kid to her ex’s for the late afternoon.

This meant that my family all would be arriving at 1:30 to eat and I wanted food ready for them.

This meant that the Firecracker and I got up mad early and got to work.

Continuing with Alison’s tradition of making chicken instead of turkey – which is now my tradition and my mom and sister’s as well – I made that Parthian Chicken dish for them.

It took me two days because I wanted to get it just right.

Plus, I made two of them.

They came out perfectly!

I meant to take pictures of both of them but we were all starving and could barely take the pictures that we did.

I also made some mac and cheese for the boys – my sister has two boys, I have the boy, and the Firecracker has a son as well.

That was a huge hit with them, as was the chicken for everyone else.

And I got them some dumplings, which were actually not as much a hit with the boys as I’d hoped.

As was the mashed potatoes that the Firecracker made completely from scratch.

Her: We have a five pound bag of potatoes. How many should I make.
Me: Five?
Her: (shrugging) OK, five pounds of mashed potatoes, coming up.

She also made a broccoli casserole, which I love, from scratch, as well as some beef with broccoli, Chinese-style, but from a kit.

My sis made an absolutely delicious low-carb chocolate cake while my brother-in-law made a killer apple and cranberry pie.

I insisted that they take the pie home because: (a) I prefer pie to cake, (b) it was legit delicious – I was very impressed – but not low-carb so I knew I would eat the entire thing if left in my house.

We were all stuffed in short order.

The kids got to play a bit while the rest of us just chatted and caught up.

We were done pretty early and my family were on the road before dinnertime, along with lots of leftovers for everyone.

Firecracker: You mom said I should bring something to my ex.
Me: Yeah, you should. (thinking) OMG, give him some potatoes. We can’t have it in the house.
Her: Cause you’ll eat it?
Me: Cause I’ll eat it.

Had a chance to talk to my mom before she left.

Me: So, what did you think, mom?
Her: You gave me so much food! Normally, I would eat a lot less but I wanted to make you happy.
Me: Honestly, I’m just glad you came.
Her: Oh, we’ll come again!
Me: That would be great, mom. It’d be really great. Thanks for coming.

Location: The gym, for the first time in months.
Mood: sore
Music: Wish that I was somewhere with you (Spotify)
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November Rain

Just happy to be invited

I write about my college friends with regularity here and have since the very beginning.

We don’t actually see each other as a group all that often – much more often one-on-one – but we all come together when we can.

And when we must.

We chipped in for flowers.

I hate funerals.

Never went to Alison’s and barely survived my dad’s.

But, as the years go on, I find myself at them more and more often.

One of our core group’s parents passed away the other day.

Him: Can you make it?
Me: Of course I’ll be there.

So, we all met up and went to the funeral together.

One guy drove in all the way from Virginia just to pay his respects.

After a spell, we stepped out to get a drink…

…before heading out for food.

The details aren’t in my story to tell, so lemme pivot and just tell you that I count myself quite lucky that I have these people in my life.

You never really think of the value of good friends when you’re a kid and only realize it when the time comes to need good friends.

Him: Logan – always thinking of food.
Me: This is, sadly, so very true.

I have a running joke with the fellas where, no matter how many times I’m invited out, I always say, “I’m finally invited to something!”

Been doing that for over 30 years with them but the reason I say that is that I’m genuinely always happy to just be included.

As a kid growing up with zero friends, it’s nice that to belong somewhere.

What is life if not looking for where we belong? Who our tribes are?

And the tribe always shows up when needed.

Couldn’t stay the whole night because I had to get the kid from a school event, but it was so good seeing everyone, despite the circumstances.

Me: (to buddy that came from Virginia) You gotta come up more often than once every 20 years.
Him: I’ll come back.
Me: Yeah, please. Under much better circumstances.

Location: earlier today, a tenant’s apartment on the second floor, trying to figure out if I needed to bleed the radiator
Mood: grateful
Music: We’ve been through this such a long long time, just tryin’ to kill the pain (Spotify)
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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)
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Meet the Firecracker

Sweating her like a summer day

Years ago, I was chatting with a female friend of mine and she said that she and her parents were having a bit of a disagreement.

Her parents wanted her to stop bringing by every guy she ever dated home.

Me: I would think they’d wanna meet who their daughter is dating.
Her: They do. The issue is that they end up liking them and then they disappear and are never seen again.
Me: Well, stop being such a tramp.
Her: (laughing) Logan!

This pic is from this entry.

Sometimes, I feel like I do that to alla you.

I tell you about some very nice woman that I’m seeing, and I have a few entries about her and then she disappears, never to be seen again.

But, because of the nature of this blog and the nature of this Logan Lo, that can’t really be helped.

On the flip side, some women I hang out with positively don’t want to be mentioned whatsoever in the blog.

So, it all kinda works out, because people tend to come and go from my Venn Diagram alla time, and I try to leave people with their anonymity.

This pic is from this entry.

That is, until someone stays.

First told you about the Firecracker in the beginning of 2023 in this entry.

In that entry, I called her an “effervescent blonde from my neighborhood…[s]he found something familiar about me and I, her.”

Some 20 months later, that’s still true and she’s still around – I’m equally thrilled about both of those facts.

For the most part.

Her: Do you want to go on a run with me?
Me: Are you mad at me or something?

This pic is from this entry.

The longer people stay in my Venn Diagram, the harder it is for me to untangle them from my life.

And, by now, all my friends and family have met the Firecracker so there’s even less reason to keep her outta this blog.

Well, her face, anywho.

Besides, she has such a pretty face that it’s shame not to show it off.

Me: So, what do you think? Post a pic with your face?
Her: Well, I suppose your readers are mostly normal and pretty nice. OK. Let’s do it.

So, meet the Firecracker:

This pic is from this entry.

Me: I often look at couples and have a hard time figuring out if they’re dating or father-daughter.
Her: I wonder if people look at us and think that.
Me: With my youthful looks?!
Her: I’m obviously joking since you’re Chinese and I’m not.
Me: That PLUS my youthful looks, yeah?
Her: OMG, how are you this vain?
Me: Practice, really.

There’s this song I’ve been talking about with you for close to two decades now – Starsailor’s Good Souls.

Evidently, I’ve referenced it at least 31 times in this blog thus far, with the first mention of it way back in 2007 when I went on my big European trip.

While I think the Firecracker is gobsmackingly beautiful, it really is her good soul that I’m most attracted to.

After all, everything else fades but (not-being-a-) douchebag is forever.

Her quick wit and humor certainly helps.

Her: (looking at my summer wear) You look like John Travolta from the 70s!
Me: I am from the 70s!

This pic is from this entry.

We have our issues, of course, but even there, she’s uniquely kind.

For example, after a major fight we had, she bought a couples counseling session and followed up with an assignment for both of us to read: Talk to me like I’m someone you love, which is honestly a great book for any couple to read.

I mean, even that title alone would be an amazing thing to say in an argument – I know this because she has with me.

I said once before that the best description of love is by the author of The Little Prince:

Aimer, ce n’est pas se regarder l’un l’autre, c’est regarder ensemble dans la même direction.

To love is not to look at one another: it is to look, together, in the same direction.

It’s surprising how much an old Chinese man from NYC and a much younger southern belle from North Carolina sees the world in the same way.

I suppose that is a great foundation for any good relationship.

Her: Do you love me?
Me: Come on, I sweat you like a summer day.
Her: I don’t know what that means. (thinking) I wish you’d say it sometimes.
Me: (laughing) Sure thing, Firecracker. Of course I love you.

This pic is from this entry.

admin note: Taking Monday off for Labour Day so I’ll see you on the 4th.

Location: earlier today, at 68 and WEA meeting a woman for USB cards for the kid
Mood: hopeful and fulla fried chix
Music: One good day of the week, I’ll be higher than the government (Spotify)
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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)
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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)
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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)
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Ketchup and the best kid

Not a big secret

Her: Just ketchup, please.
Me: What? How about I put on mustard and onions?
Her: No thanks, just ketchup.
Me: Chili?
Her: Nope. Just ketchup.
Me: You know, according to the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council, if you’re over 18 years old, you shouldn’t be using ketchup.
Her: I’m a lot younger than you and I’m doing it.
Me: (grumble)

I gotta say, I agree with the National Hot Dog and Sausage Council; ketchup just makes everything taste like ketchup, which is exactly why I don’t like it and kids like it on everything.

Me: I secretly judge you.
Her: (rolls eyes) It’s not that big a secret.

The kid finished up his camp this week and is going back to grandma’s for a few weeks before school.

He wanted to go and his grandma wanted to have him, so win-win there.

We had hoped to go to either Taiwan or another cruise this summer but changing gyms and some other expenses changed things for us.

But the Firecracker and I were chatting the other day and I came across a cruise for a cruise line that I’d never been on before and it left from Brooklyn.

We actually saw it the last time we were in Govenors Island, as well as the time we went to Red Hook.

Since it left from Brooklyn, the savings from not flying and having a hotel meant that it was in our budget, so we booked it.

Was gonna surprise the kid with it in a few weeks but I couldn’t contain my excitement, knowing how good a time he had the first time he went.

Me: Hey, I wanted to ask you: What was the best thing you and I ever did together?
Him: Oh, that’s easy – the cruise. Why?
Me: (smiling)
Him: Wait, are we going on a cruise?!
Me: (shrugging shoulders)
Him: (eyes widening) ARE WE GOING ON ANOTHER CRUISE!?
Me: (shrugging again) I dunno…mebe?
Him: (loses his mind)

Mission accomplished.

I don’t think there are words that fully encapsulates the feeling when, as a parent, you get your kid precisely the thing they want the most.

He was on cloud nine all day.

And so was I.

Him: You’re the best papa ever!
Me: Ha, you haven’t met them all but I’ll take it. And you’re the best kid.

Location: Flushing, showing the kid the old hood
Mood: excited
Music: Let’s hit the road, friend of mine; wave goodbye to our thankless jobs (Spotify)
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Crawdads, and…

…fish that tastes like chicken

The kid’s been away for a little while and I miss him terribly.

But it does mean that I have time to do things that are generally too low-priority to actually do – like really check out the new H-Mart that opened a few blocks from my pad.

This is the exciting middle-aged life I live.

Her: I have to give it to Asians for creating a better soup spoon.
Me: I’ve always felt that – glad you agree.

Although not everything was a winner.

Her: OK, explain that to me?
Me: Not sure if I can. It looks like it’s a fish cake, that states like hot/spicy chicken, in the shape of a hot dog, packaged in a plastic cylinder.
Her: Yep, that’s what I got as well.

And the Firecracker and I got to do things around the hood, like have beer and wings over by my local dive bar.

Me: I think I was 24 years old when I first came here. The wings got a lot more expensive but it’s also a lot nicer now.
Her: That’s cool, that you have places that you regularly go to after all these years.

Oh, and also check out things like concerts – I found another video that I forgot to put up last week from the Matchbox 20 concert.

Of course, I’m still counting the days until the kid comes back.

Me: So, what did you do today?
Him: I went swimming in the creek! And do you know what I saw?
Me: No, what?
Him: Crawdads! They’re like little lobsters.
Me: (laughing) I’m not unaware. Don’t let them pinch you.
Him: (seriously) Oh, definitely.

Location: shooting more videos for Scenic Fights
Mood: tired
Music: Maybe it’s time to come home (Spotify)
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Happy Father’s Day 2024

It’s been seven years

I was just born in this picture. My kid wore what I was wearing here as well. Maybe someday, I’ll show it to you.

Mom: Your dad’s been gone seven years. Can you believe it?
Me: Not really. It feels like it was just a couple of years ago.
Her: (repeating) Seven years. Not easy, is it?
Me: No. He woulda loved seeing [the kid].
Her: Yes. That’s your dad.
Me: (nodding)

Location: at a school performance, waiting for the kid to arrive
Mood: impressed
Music: Where are all the gods? (Spotify)
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