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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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Showerheads and Siblings

Main Character Syndrome

Reading about the psychopath that blew up the IVF center in California gave me so many mixed emotions, least of which this asshole decided his opinion of the world trumped everyone else’s opinion of the world.

I don’t get how people think it’s ok, or even reasonable, to force their worldviews on others.

Like, that’s the ultimate in main character syndrome I can imagine.

But I digress.

Perfect Circles dropped me a line recently.

Her: Pregnant again! Number three joining us in August. Plainly we’ve lost our minds but it just felt like the gang wasn’t all here yet.
Me: That’s amazing, congrats!! Oh man, that was my dream, to have three kids. Alison only ever wanted to have two. Sigh.

Told her that I was thrilled for her, which is true.

But then that got me thinking: I’ve got a few embryos out in the world that I’m still struggling to figure out what to do with.

I’ve always wanted another child but that doesn’t appear to be in the cards.

In any case, one idea was to donate them to couples in need – ie, a couple that can’t produce a child on their own.

I seriously considered it in the past, but there’s an interesting phenomenon where people that are biologically related – a fact that they often don’t know initially – find each other and fall in love.

There’re a buncha stories like this:

    • Reddit reported revealed that a woman found out her six-year relationship with her boyfriend was really a six-year relationship with her biological brother after taking a DNA.
    • A Mississippi couple found out that – not only were they brother and sister – they were also twins!
    • A lesbian couple have suspicions that they might be half-siblings but plan on remaining a couple.
    • A couple from Brazil – with a six-year-old child – found out that they were actually brother and sister, both of whom were abandoned by their mother as children. The kicker is that they found this out together and live on the radio.

It’s not hard to see how they might fall in love; after all, we’re equal parts nature and nurture.

In fact, you can see how a hypothetical conversation might go:

Him: I love 80s music.
Her: Me too, my favourite band is Duran Duran.
Him: OMG, me too! I went to their last concert in London back in 2022.
Her: Wait, I was there too!

I’d read about this phenomenon ages ago but I was recently reminded of it when I visited my sister the other day.

I never told her that I fixed my bathroom but when I went to use her newly renovated bathroom, I found out that:

We both picked the same shower head – in the same colour to boot!

The one on the left is my sisters and mine is on the right. They’re the same colour – it’s just the lighting that makes it look different.

AND we picked the exact same tiles!

These are hers…

…and these are mine.

Again, we both did our bathrooms without discussing it with the other.

Anywho, yeah, I don’t think I’ll give those embryos away…

Location: the wet rain
Mood: brrrrrrr
Music: Tell me all the things that you like (Spotify)
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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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Meathearts

Hearts, but not the chicken kind

Me: Has there ever been a thing I’ve made that you truly disliked?
Her: The chicken hearts.
Me: Was it the flavor, the consistency, or the general thought of them?
Her: Yes

Had to pick something up from someone in my nabe the other day and I laughed when I got to her door.

I live on the upper level of a small building and I’m always telling people to go UPSTAIRS and not DOWNSTAIRS to deliver or pick up anything.

Nine times outta 10, they’ll ignore or miss that information, and I’ll have to come to outside to get them from the downstairs area.

I’m guessing that this lady had something similar with people ringing the wrong doorbell.

The Firecracker is getting used to being with someone that enjoys cooking.

We have this arrangement, similar to mine with Alison, where one person cooks and the other cleans.

It’s been working out well.

Made her some Chinese tomatoes and eggs the other day and she was skeptical, but she and the kids loved it.

On that note, I’ve been watching this channel called Made by Lau, which I use to supplement the recipes that my mom and dad taught me.

Like all home cooks, my parents never had any recipes – they just knew how to make dishes, so the website gives me better measurements and ideas for changes.

Speaking of food, I forgot to mention that the Firecracker got me a heart-shaped box for St. Valentine’s Day last month.

Except – like the previous year – it was fulla dried meats.

Man, that girl knows me so well…

Location: the kitchen, making some killer ribs with her
Mood: stuffed and content
Music: There might be a part of me that I won’t let you keep (Spotify)
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Memory Lane

Not that there’s anything wrong with that

After the Firecracker and I came back from her surprise shower, we then dashed off to our local dive bar – Malachy’s – and met up with my old roomie, Buckley.

We actually lived in the same dorm waaaaaay back in 1991 (!) and kept in touch after I left.

When he moved into the city, he and I became roomies and, after a few years, he and I bought our apartment together.

I remember that my dad had questions.

Dad: You…and Buckley…are buying an apartment? Together?
Me: Yeah, why?
Him: Well…is there anything else you wanna tell me?
Me: (puzzled) No, why? (thinking) OMG! No, we’re just friends. And poor. We’re poor friends. We can’t afford a place alone, so we need to pool our money together.
Him: Oh…
Me: (quickly) Not that there’s anything wrong with that. We’re just poor.

This is us in 1998, right before we bought the place.

I dunno what we were thinking with those sweaters or my goatee.

In any case, we met up at Malachy’s because that and Big Nick’s – which is where the main picture was taken – were the two greasy spoon dives that we always went to.

It’s weird. He looks like him just…older. And I’m the same.

We were literally kids when we met – like 17. And now his son is not that far off from the age when we first met.

Rain Noe, Logan Lo

And I’ve been chatting with Rain a lot these days.

He’s just dealing with some real estate issues and that’s kinda what I do.

That’s a pic of us back in 1998 downtown. I think at a joint called Stingy Lulu‘s (or Yaffa Cafe).

Big Nick’s is long gone – it closed back in 2013 and I wrote about it. I remember chatting with Alison about it.

Stingy Lulu’s has been gone for decades – as has Yaffa Cafe.

The thing about being 51 in 2025 is that I don’t really have any pictures or videos of some of the most seminal moments of my life.

This was a little bit after he moved out and Alison moved in.

Because, back then, cameras were crappy and usually just film or – in my case – crappy digital.

Did you know that your memories aren’t replayed, they’re reconstructed each and every time you remember them?

That means that every time you remember thing, there’s a (high) chance you’ll alter that memory a bit and those alterations keep piling up until you can’t trust your own memories anymore?

And that’s why I wish I had better pictures/videos to remember my possible pasts with.

Luckily, I have my friends to help me remember those memories.

Me: He was a quant at Long Term Capital, right?
Him: No, he was a programmer – he was on his way to being a quant when it imploded.
Me: Gotcha – I didn’t know that.

Unfortunately, I don’t have Alison here to remember the memories that mattered the very most to me.

Ah, fuck…

This is what my room looked like when it was just me and Buckley – two bachelors in the city.
A dragonfly from this entry in 2008. I have questions about that day but no one to ask.

Location: this morning, looking up therapists for various reasons
Mood: messy
Music: saw my life in a strangers face and it was mine (Spotify)
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So, I did a thing

Past, Present, and Future

I rushed out the door of my in-laws because the Firecracker was all by her lonesome for Xmas.

For various reasons, she’s spent a lotta Christmases alone and I didn’t want her to have to do it again.

In any case, the train into the city was standing-room-only packed and this French woman was behind me and her teenage son – who was sniffling and coughing – was in front of me speaking to her with me in the middle of them.

I’m gonna get so sick, I thought.

More on that in a couplea entries.

Her: I was young. It was like the early 2000s.
Me: Oh man, I was already in my 30s then.
Her: Yeah, cause you’re old
Me: (sighing) Well, thanks for not saying “AF” after that sentence this time.
Her: You’re welcome – but I was thinking it.
Me: (nodding)

Do you remember when the Firecracker and I went to Pasadena together and we stopped by Tiffany’s?

While she was there, she tried on engagement rings, and we talked about what she liked and what she didn’t like.

Welp, I made some mental notes.

A few months ago, I ended up buying a Past, Present, and Future ring for her in her size because it just felt like it was time.

Was just waiting for the right moment to give it to her.

While I was walking around the hood the other day, walked past a local restaurant that we love and chatted with a young woman about maybe doing it there.

The young woman I spoke to was all for it.

Her: Are you available for a quick call sometime on Monday? I would love to discuss the details with you to surprise her! We have our Skylight room available that day.
Me: YES! Thank you!

There’s a LOT more to that story but we can end that part here.

Coincidentally, both my brother and SIL, as well as the Firecracker’s sister and BIL were in town, so I invited them to come by afterward to have dinner.

It was my brother and his wife that were kind enough to come early and set up to take pictures and videos of everything – and on Christmas Day to boot.

Decided to do it on Christmas Day since everyone was free and the restaurant had time and space.

One of these days, I’ll tell you how I got the Firecracker to come along without arousing suspicions.

So, after I left my in-laws, I hightailed it back to Manhattan and, with alla my gear and bags, went to the restaurant to make sure everything was ready.

Then I went back to home where I saw the Firecracker.

Me: Sorry I’m so late. Trains were a mess.

When I first met the Firecracker felt that there was something immediately familiar about her.

I think we know our people innately, and everything else is just confirmation.

I set her apart pretty much right when I met her.

So, I figured I should tell her that in a way that was also set apart.

Me: I promised you that you wouldn’t spend any more Christmases alone. So, Firecracker, will you marry me?
Her: (nods) Yes.
Me: (laughing) Well, alright…

Note: There’s no sound in the video.

Location: Back in frigid NYC
Mood: cough-y
Music: No doubt in my mind where you belong (Spotify)
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A birthday at Upland

These different capacities

My buddy around the way had a major milestone birthday the other day, right after we’d gone swimming over at Steel’s.

So, the Firecracker and I rushed home – already stuffed – to change to meet up with them.

The party was in a restaurant across the street from Alison’s office, so I had a few moments in my head, but we’ll just end that part of the story there.

When we arrived, the Maitre’d brought up to the lower level, which my friends had taken over for the party.

The Firecracker and I got to sit with the birthday boy, which I was super flattered by.

Me: I met Dave like 27 years ago.
Him: No, it was 24 and a half years ago – I know this because we met the day I started at this company and I’m coming up on 25 years soon.
Me: (laughing) I stand corrected.

Tried my best to not eat that much at Steel’s because I knew the food here wouldn’t disappoint…

…and it assuredly didn’t.

I was asked to say a few words, so I did.

This woman once said, Good things happen slowly, bad things happen fast. You don’t really know who’s gonna be important in your life and how life is gonna unfold until years go by. And somehow 25 years have passed. There are at least four people in this room that didn’t exist when we first met….I knew him [first] as a co-worker, and then my drinking buddy in the neighborhood – (to kids) we drank a lotta water – now I see him as a father, as a husband, and all these other things and it’s wonderful to see. It’s wonderful to see your friends in these different capacities that you didn’t know they were capable of.

Everything I said was true.

(c) Ken Landau

RE Mike was there, along with his wife, and so many other people that I met throughout the years.

I gotta say, the very best thing about getting older is the friends that keep you company along the way.

There was a killer premium open bar but, ever since the Surgeon’s party, I’ve been wary about overindulging…

…although I did cheat a bit on my no/low-carb rule and had a touch of cake.

There’s a lot more that happened but those are all other people’s stories so I’ll just say that we had an amazing time.

The Firecracker and I took a long walk from the East Side to the West Side, stopping at Madison Square Park to look at the tree…

…and take some pictures.

Her: Thanks for always including me to these kinda things.
Me: (puzzled) Of course. We’re a team.
Her: (smiling) I like that.
Me: Plus, I like to show you off. You’re super hot.
Her: (laughing)

Location: home, sans kids, cooking for the Firecracker
Mood: chilly
Music: We got talking about the past, I even made you laugh (Spotify)
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Hot pot with a buncha hapas, Pt 2

What’s a Hapa?

I’m hard pressed to say which of my friends are the better chefs.

For my money, Steele’s probably the best but that might just be because I’ve had his food the most.

Bryson and Pak are both close behind, with Pak working in restaurants practically his whole life and Bryson just taking it seriously like Steele.

I will say this: Before my dad died, Steele and Bryson both came by so he could show them how he made sushi.

It’s one of my fondest life memories, ever.

As for me, I’ve been trying for some two-plus decades to get invited over to Bryson’s for a meal and, earlier last week, it finally happened.

Because the Firecracker and I had such a great experience at the Frenchman’s for dinner last year, we all decided to have hot pot again, but this time at the Brysons.

Their pad was absolutely ginormous – four bedrooms in Queens, which isn’t very common.

With an outdoor area to boot.

Me: Man, this place is just tiny.
Him: (laughing) Come on, I’ll give you the tour.

Bryson moved a lot in the past few decades but, like me, stayed in the same building, just moving from one unit to another.

The last time I visited Bryson and his wife, Nikki, they were both sans kids; this time around, they had three, with one a freshman in high school.

Her: I saw you on YouTube and told my friends you were friends with my dad, that was fire.
Me: Sweeeeeeet, I’ll take it. Tell your friends.

Bryson wanted me to just sit and chill but it was just him prepping for this small army of people.

So, I rolled up my sleeves and got to chopping, first deboning and cutting the chix and then the flat iron steak.

Bryson took the chicken and made some Karaage – which my dad used to make for me alla time (god, I miss him) – for the kids, although we ate some as well.

Firecracker: OMG, that is so good.
Me: That’s for the kids! The hot pot’s the main attraction.
Her: I’ll try…

But Bryson didn’t make it easy for her anyone to pace themselves because he kept bringing out these delicious dishes that we all loved.

Like, I mentioned how much Tess and I liked spam and how much the Firecracker had grown to love it and so he made a bowl of musubi for us to all enjoy (which is what the kids were eating in the last photo of the last entry).

By the time the hot pot rolled around, we were all already pretty full.

Which is not to say that we didn’t kill that all as well.

On that note, Bryson bought a slab of wagyu beef which, being the absolute animals we were, we devoured before Bryson got to try any.

Me: So sorry we killed the wagyu before you had a chance to try it.
Bryson: Whatever. Super happy you guys were able to enjoy. That’s my happiness

Afterward, we all had some of the tart and chocolate cheesecake that the Frenchman and Tess brought over.

Oh, I suppose I should explain the main pictures of these two entries: My back has been absolutely killing me these days.

I’ve been doing this back PT called the Mckenzie Method but you gotta do it like every 60-120 minutes all day for it to work.

I’d be slacking for a while so my back’s not been improving.

Ergo, I gave myself a goal of a minimum of eight times a day and – because these were all good friends of mine – I asked Nikki for a yoga mat and did them.

It was fine – it was my comedic contribution to the night.

Well, that and alcohol.

It was a great night, as always, with good friends.

We took an Uber back and the boy was beat tired when we got back.

Me: Did you have a good time, kiddo?
Him: Yes. I’m so full. I’m so tired. Did you, papa?
Me: Good. Yes, I did. Bryson’s one of my oldest friends and the Frenchman and his family are nice aren’t they?
Him: (nodding as he dozes off)
Me: Good night, kid. Papa loves you.
Him: (smiles with his eyes closed)

Location: a train to the Morgan Library and Museum from Newark
Mood: starving
Music: if we go down, at least I’m in good company (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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