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.
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!
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.
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.
Aimer, ce nāest pas se regarder lāun lāautre, cāest regarder ensemble dans la mĆŖme 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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:Ā Maybe it’s time to come home (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
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:Ā Where are all the gods? (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
The kid and I were walking up Broadway the other day and someone dropped an entire jar of pickles on the ground and no one batted an eye.
Everywhere I look, things are a mess or broken.
Everything is chaos and atrophy.
Or, at least, I’m noticing it more these days.
Probably because I’m a broken mess and my mind is all chaos and atrophy.
Alison died exactly seven years ago.
How is that even fucking possible?
Me: I realized something the other day: I may live another 40, 50 years. All that time without Alison. Therapist: And how does that make you feel? Me: (thinking) Pretty empty. Then again, these past seven years seemed to dash by. Her: (at the end of the session) Are you ok? Me: Yeah. It’s fine. I cry all the time. Her: This is the first time you’ve cried in one of our sessions. Me: Is that right? Well, I cry all the time. (shaking head) These years have gone by so fast.
Suppose life will be over before I know it.
It’s hurts to know that I’m gonna end up being an old man one day, and she never got that chance.
I’ve always wished it was me and not her.
Think I always will.
Editor note: I’ll be taking a mental health day for Sunday/Monday, so I’ll post again on Tuesday night.
This entry is out of order; back to the regular nuthin in the next entry.
The Firecracker’s dad came into town this weekend and we met up with him on Saturday for a kid’s birthday party.
It was fine for the most part but then a parent snapped at my kid when he tried to break a piƱata with his foot when it fell down – like an 8 year old kid understands why whacking a piece of cardboard with a stick is ok but kicking it isn’t – and destroyed him in front of all the other kids.
It pretty much set the mood for the rest of the weekend for us.
He’d never cried at a birthday party before and, of course, it had to happen during the weekend of Mother’s Day and his mom’s birthday.
Obviously, there’s no way for the other parent to have known that.
If it wasn’t for the fact that she couldn’t have known and that she was a mom, I woulda been arrested.
Still, he was fine after a spell because I raised him to be resilient, but – man – I was steamed.
Him: She said I did it on purpose, but I didn’t. I was trying to help. (sadly) I’m the worst kid. Me: Don’t ever say that. She doesn’t know you at all. You’re the best kid mom or I could ever ask for. Him: Really? Me: Honest and for true.
We then went to have dinner with the Firecracker’s family at a local taco joint that I’d been to before and then called it a night.
The next morning, despite it being Mother’s Day, the Firecracker got up bright and early to make her family and us a killer brekkie with a baked blueberry and apple oatmeal dish and a baked fritatta with feta and bacon.
The oatmeal bar
My kid liked it so much, he asked for seconds of everything and also asked for more the next day.
God, I love that kid – he’s just like me where we eat our feelings.
We all chatted at my place for hours until we had to meet up with the ABFF for dinner and to remember Alison.
This was probably the worst birthday/Mother’s Day yet for the kid because he feels the loss now.
Being humiliated and yelled at a birthday party probably didn’t help matters.
It was the hardest one for me for a while because it hit the kid so hard.
Him: (looking up at the ballon) How do we know she’ll get it? Me: We hope. Him: (nodding) I hope she knows I miss her. Me: She knows. I’m sure she knows
