Tag: love

As fine a legacy

The richest people

I’m 26 in that picture above. Half my current age.

When Alison was here, I used to do most of the cooking. And with the Firecracker, I cook most dinners.

It’s because Alison and The Firecracker both preferred cleaning to cooking.

But there are so many dishes that I wish I coulda made for everyone, but I just don’t have the recipe.

Me: I wish I wrote down some of my dad’s recipes. But I was so fucked up at the time.
Firecracker: You did the best you could with what you had. And just leave it at that.
Me: Thanks for saying that.
Her: Anytime. And it’s true.

My kid let me sleep in – like, seriously, sleep in – for Father’s Day, which I really appreciated.

It gave me time to just stay in bed and think about my dad.

I mention him a lot in this blog, but I wanted to share another story to give you some idea of what he was all about.

When I was a kid, I rarely saw him. He was out the door to job number 1 before I woke up for school, which meant that he was already up, dressed, and ready for the day by 7AM.

And I was usually in bed by 9PM but I didn’t see him because he went to school at night to try to better himself.

This left my mom home to cook and clean for us. We were poor so we almost never ate out or had take out anything.

She cooked 3-4 meals a day, because she also had to cook something for my dad at the crack of dawn.

When my dad retired, decades later, my mom was working. And he told her that she would never have to cook again.

He explained it to me once.

Him: Your mom stayed home to take care of the house so that I could work and make money for us. I told her that, because I have time now, I’ll do all the cooking and cleaning now while she’s working because it’s only fair.

And he did.

For at least the last decade-and-a-half of his life, he cooked every single meal he could for her.

He also wouldn’t let her clean up afterward.

That was the deal.

This was taken in 2002, 23 years ago when my life was so very different.

That’s who my dad was; he was a feminist and a liberal in many ways, without ever saying either word in his lifetime, I don’t think.

He just was madly in love with my mom, I think. And he innately believed in fairness.

He wasn’t without his faults, just like the rest of us, but when it came to his wife and family, he was the kinda guy we all wish we could be.

I miss his terribly, on this Father’s Day and every day.

I hope that what he gave me, I can give the kid so that the kid can give it to his family.

Suppose that’s as fine a legacy as anything.

Location: the couch, with the kid, watching Charlie Brown
Mood: nostalgic
Music: you wouldn’t have to say (Spotify)
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Tags family, good things, human condition, love, relationships

personal

Alison would have been 46

Post author By Logan Lo
Post date 2025/05/11
No Comments on Alison would have been 46

I’m able to pay, for now

A little while ago, the Professor dropped me a line.

Him: If you’ve seen the HBO series Westworld there’s a line where a female robot is about to get her mind wiped again – to spare her from feeling the pain of her child s death – and she cries out “Please, no – the pain is all I have left.” I thought that line was quite powerful.
Me: (sighing) Yeah. Thinking of Alison and my dad is always painful but it’s better than not feeling anything at all, I think. Sometimes, I think differently, but for now, I agree.

There was also a NY Times Article that my brother sent me that had a subtitle that read, If grief is the price of love, I am unable to pay.

For now, I’m able to pay it.

But, early on, I thought paying it would kill me.

As I age, it’s a bit less painful.

Time just dulls everything.

Yet, when I do feel it, man do I feel it.

But I’d much rather feel it than forget her.

Because pain is the price we pay for love.

And pain is all I have left of her.

Well, that and the boy.

Him: I wish I knew her better.
Me: Me too, kiddo. You woulda loved her.
Him: And she woulda loved me?
Me: Oh, kiddo, she absolutely did. And she’d be so thrilled with the person you’re becoming.

Location: 2017, at least, in my head
Mood: complicated
Music: don’t look back from a hurt like that (Spotify)
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Tags family, human condition, love, troubles

personal

Something about Mary (Elizabeth Sawyer)

Post author By Logan Lo
Post date 2025/05/06
1 Comment on Something about Mary (Elizabeth Sawyer)

Feeling it acutely

This little girl named Mary Elizabeth Sawyer was born in 1806 and she led a fairly unremarkable life except for two things:

1. She had a little lamb, whose fleece was white – as white as snow, in fact. And this little lamb followed Mary everywhere.
2. Her friend, John Roulstone, upon seeing this, was so amused, he wrote her a poem about it.

Image via Art and Picture Collection, The New York Public Library.

The poem went:

Mary had a little lamb;
Its fleece was white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went,
The lamb was sure to go.

It followed her to school one day,
Which was against the rule;
It made the children laugh and play
To see a lamb at school.

And so the teacher turned it out;
But still it lingered near,
And waited patiently about
Till Mary did appear.

There’s some question as to the validity of all this, but I like to believe it.

See, almost everyone in America has heard about Mary, knew her situation, and remembered her little lamb that she loved so much, and that loved her so much.

But I’m struck that everyone forgot that Mary was a real person, with all her hopes and dreams, and people – and animals – that loved her deeply.

Even if the poem wasn’t actually Mary Elizabeth Sawyer, the hope is that Mary was a real person, and this was a real thing.

This coming week will be both Alison’s birthday and Mother’s Day.

Again and like always.

And the anniversary of her death is coming up as well.

Every May I struggle with the void that she left after she died.

As hard as that is, it’s even harder for the kid, who – year-after-year – feels the loss a touch more acutely than the previous year.

Moreover, I worry that she’ll just be a distant idea to him, like Mary.

Like, I picture her in my head like the picture above while I think that my son pictures her like the blurry main picture of this entry.

It’s her but it’s…blurry.

Then again, it’s always good to be remembered in some positive way.

Whether that be in a children’s rhyme or a blog that almost no one reads.

I’ll probably write more later, but I just wanted you to know that the Lo household was thinking about her this May, like we do every May.

And like I always do.

Him: Papa! Did you know that there’s a country called Burkina Faso? Isn’t that a cool name?
Me: It is! Did you know that mommy used to go there all the time?
Him: She did? Why?
Me: She worked for a place called Helen Keller and was always trying to help people. That’s one of the things that I always loved about her. She was always trying to help people – she was such a good person, kiddo. Maybe, when you grow up, you can help people like she did.
Him: I will!
Me: (nodding) She’d love that. She would have loved that. And you.

Location: home, worried about the weekend
Mood: concerned
Music: A few years had gone and come around (Spotify)
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Tags family, friends, human condition, love, relationships, troubles

personal

Thanksgiving 2024: Linner by mine

Post author By Logan Lo
Post date 2024/12/10
1 Comment on 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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Tags family, good things, love

personal

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.

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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Tags friends, goodbye, love, observations

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)
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Tags family, good things, love, meeting people in NYC, New York City, NYC

personal

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!

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.

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?

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:

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!

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.

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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Tags good things, love, relationships

personal

Tigers with different stripes, Pt 2

Post author By Logan Lo
Post date 2024/08/25
No Comments on 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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Tags family, goodbye, interesting facts, love, relationships, traveling

personal

Tigers with different stripes, Pt 1

Post author By Logan Lo
Post date 2024/08/22
1 Comment on 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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Tags family, love

The richest people

Wish to God I didn’t know now

I’m able to pay, for now

Feeling it acutely

Really great

Just happy to be invited

Doing a good deed

Sweating her like a summer day

The best five days of my life

My parents told us they loved us