Tag: tiny wisdom

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personal

Harold is the worst Tan Hua plant ever

Crazy Average Asians

My mom gave me a cutting from her Tan Hua plant waaaaay back in 1993 – it’s the plant that was featured in Crazy Rich Asians,,

Here’s a super grainy part of that scene from the film.

Anywho, I named him Harold for no particular reason and he’s been with me all over New York City from my first apartment off Times Square to my son’s bedroom as of right this moment.

Like Leon in The Professional, Harold’s been with me everywhere I go.


Yes, I realize this is Natalie Portman’s character here, but I thought it was a better video.

Anywho, in Crazy Rich Asians, two things that they mentioned in the film is true: (a) it only blooms at night, and (b) it rarely ever blooms.

Harold? In 31 years, he’s never bloomed.

However, I’ve given cuttings of him to a few friends like Lviv, but – AFAIK – none of them have ever bloomed either.

This is Lviv’s plant from a while ago.

My mom, who’s got a phenomenal green thumb, has had her original plant bloom dozens of times and the fragrance is both amazing and indescribable.

Now, years ago, my buddy Brandon – the owner of Evolution Muay Thai, which is a great gym if you’re visiting or looking – is not only an amazing fighter and instructor, he’s also ridiculously good at cultivating plants.

He gave me a single leaf of his pothos plant and this is what it looks like now.

It’s been growing so aggressively that it grew through my lamp!

In any case, Brandon wrote me outtta the blue the other day to (a) show me a picture of his cutting, which looks spectacular:

…but also, (b) to tell me that it blooms so much that he finds rando blooms littering his floor.

I am sick with jealousy and a little irritated with Harold.

Here’s a timelapse of someone else’s plant blooming:

Me: I don’t get it; essentially, Brandon’s plant is you since it’s a cutting from you. He blooms, why can’t you?
Harold:
Me: You’re 31 years old and what have you done what do you have to say for yourself?
Him:
Me: Fine. Whatever.

Location: the kid’s room, looking at Harold and wondering what went wrong.
Mood: annoyed
Music: I’m holding on tight – someday we’ll get it right (Spotify)
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Free advice seems to be worth it

There’s your answer

Me: I dunno, man.
Him: Well, what would you do here?
Me: (sighing) That’s the thing, I guess. She’s controlling you right now. If nuthin else, I wouldn’t allow that. I can’t allow myself to be controlled by another person unless I wanted to be controlled. And I don’t think you wanna be controlled, do you?

There’s this small coffee shop a few blocks south of me that I used to go to when I did my dry cleaning as my dry cleaner was just next door.

The coffeeshop was a tiny joint but my dry cleaners lost their lease (boo!) but that meant that the cafe could take over that space and expand (yay!).

Lately, I’ve been meeting people there for coffee and meetings since it’s so much nicer now.

Now, the reason I’ve been going there – besides occasional visits with neighbors and my buddy the Pastor – is because, for some reason, people keep asking me for advice.

Personally, I only like to give advice when I’m 100% sure about something.

Like, I tell people to try to drink as much green tea as possible because of all of its document health benefits.

Other things, though, I’m less certain of, ergo, I’m hesitant to offer any advice.

Like, there are no less than three people I know of that are going through divorces.

As a lawyer, I know little to nuthin about the topic, but I started doing some research to try and help them here and there.

I think it’s more dangerous to give advice when you have no idea what you’re talking about than to say, “Sorry, man, I don’t know anything about the topic, I wish I could help.”

But they’re in a pickle so I try to help however I can.

My old buddy Johnny – who got a divorce himself decades ago and took none of my advice – used to drive me crazy by always offering advice on topics he had zero background in.

He was probably my third wealthiest friend, so I think that wild success makes people think that they’re qualified to give advice in all fields rather than the one that they actually are qualified in.

That’s one of a million reasons I decided to stop being friends with him.

Getting back to my friends, some of them insist that I give them some opinion, so I do when pressed.

But I wonder if I’m truly helping or harming sometimes.

Then again, free advice is probably worth what you’re paying for it.

Him: Fuck no.
Me: (shrugging) Well, then there’s your answer then.

Location: this here coffeeshop
Mood: puzzled
Music: There’s a stain on my notebook where your coffee cup was (Spotify)
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Garbage disposals in NYC

Finally installed one for myself

My brother has a garbage disposal and I always thought it was the coolest thing.

Dump alla your organic waste into it, it turns it into slush, and goes out into the environment where it reenters the food chain.

Win for the environment and win for homeowners/ tenants.

Now, while they were created in 1927, they were banned in NYC until 1997 for a variety of reasons.

Even now, they’re pretty rare because people just got used to going without.

However, the rats in NYC may change alla that.

See, Mayor Adams is convinced that the garbage – fulla food – laying around for hours overnight in plastic bags is helping the insane surge in rats in NYC.

I think he may be onto something.

One of his major plans are to deal with the obscene garbage situation in the city by:

    1. Standardizing garbage cans for everyone in the whole city – so everyone has to get cans that look like the ones below with a lid on them.
    2. Making everyone separate out their compostable materials.

Alla this by October 6th, 2024.

This means that I was looking into having this monstrosity in my tiny little NYC apartment.

I’d been thinking about having a garbage disposal installed since 2000, but life got in the way.

But two weeks ago, I had an electrician install an outlet under my sink and I picked up the Frigidaire 1.25 HP Corded Garbage Disposal (FF13DISPC1) for Wally to install while he was waiting for the paint to dry on the other project.

He’d never done one before but was game to tackle it.

Unfortunately, my sink was easily 40 years old, so the drain was rusted tight.

Took us two hours just to be able to remove it, which we did with a specialized tool.

Him: Man, once we had the right tool, it came right out.
Me: I remember my buddy Buckley telling me once that nothing’s ever an issue if you have the right tool.

Since this was the first time he’d ever installed one, lots of things went wrong.

Like this arm was the wrong size and leaked everywhere.

Wally planned to be here to paint and install it for about four-to-five hours but ended up staying 10 hours and had to return two days later to finally fix everything.

BUT, I have a garbage disposal now in NYC!

I think I’m gonna start running tours to show it off with a reasonable $5 admission ticket.

I’ll let you know when I roll that out.

In the meanwhile, here’s a quick time-lapse video I shot of it in action.

It’s 1.25 horsepower, which is about 5X the power of an average garbage disposal, so it chews through most anything but I’m just using fruit peels and eggshells to keep the gross factor to a minimum.

If you don’t have one, definitely consider installing one!

Location: a NYC pad WITH garbage disposal and freshly painted doors and gates
Mood: accomplished
Music: I will try to fix you (Spotify)
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Doing the right thing

Two different kids

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Location: a playground, watching a mouse explode
Mood: nauseated
Music: This is a moment in the prime of your life – you better own it (Spotify)
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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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A Bohemian Dinner Rapsody

Not having an internal monologue

For some 18 months, I’d been trying to get a triple date lined up with Bryson and his wife, The Frenchman and his wife, and me and the Firecracker.

Bryson and the Frenchman were friends first, with the Frenchman being a white belt in BJJ when Bryson was a purple belt.

But, because life gets in the way, Bryson’s now a brown belt (4th level) but the Frenchman’s a black belt (5th level) and I’m still – laughably after over 20 years on-and-off – a blue (2nd level).

Like I said, life gets in the way.

Only found out through social media that they knew each other and, after we got together last time around, we’d been trying to do it again with no luck.

This past week, we’d finally arranged something – or so we thought.

Bryson: Hey guys I did not read the calendar right. We are [away next week after all]. We can do this Thursday or Friday.
Me: I’m putting this on your list.
Frenchman: Argh…that’s July 4th…sorry got a plan already.
Me: Is tomorrow out?
Bryson: We can do tomorrow.
Frenchman: Tomorrow 6:30-7pm would be the earliest.
Me: Wait, that works for us as well. 7PM tomorrow?
Frenchman: Oh, wow it’s happening.

So, after months of trying to plan something, we just randomly decided to meet up around the Frenchman’s pad within 24 hours.

The Firecracker suggested Bohemian Spirit as she knows I like Slavic food and the other fellas were game so off we went.

The Firecracker and I got there first.

Me: Oh man, this place is super cute.
Her: I figured you’d want to be able to take pics.
Me: (later, to waitress) Hey, do the chairs on the wall/ceiling mean something?
Waitress: (laughing) It means my boss was bored during COVID.

After a while, everyone else showed up.

While the Firecracker had met the Frenchman’s wife, Tess, before, and briefly met Bryson’s wife, Nikki, the two wives hadn’t met each other yet.

But, since everyone’s so chill, we all fell into a really easy conversation pretty quickly.

The food was killer to boot.

Me: Did you know that about 30% – or something – of people don’t have an internal monologue?
Frenchman: Wait, what does that mean? You have conversations with yourselves?
Firecracker: What? You don’t?
Me: You don’t talk to yourself?!
Nikki: I don’t talk to myself either.
Me: Whoa, is that 30%?
Firecracker: Your math is off.
Me: Asians are not known for their math skills.

Turns out that the Frenchman – and possibly Nikki but she was sitting farther from me – don’t have internal monologues.

Evidently, he thinks in images and concepts but doesn’t actually have a conversation with himself.

This was a pretty hot-button topic for us to end out the night but that’s more their story than mine, so I’ll stop here.

The Firecracker and I were stupid full, and she suggested that we walk home from the Upper East Side to the Upper West Side.

Her: It’s just like a mile. We can do that easy.
Me: Fine, but you’ll have to protect me if someone attacks us.

Can’t remember the last time that I walked across the park at night.

It was nice.

Actually, the whole evening was nice.

I’d do it again. Although, hopefully, earlier than 18 months.

Location: at another bar, limiting myself to a single burger
Mood: hot
Music: Will you let me go? بِسْمِ ٱللَّٰهِ! (Spotify)
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New Mexico came before Mexico

Plus, Germany and Switzerland don’t like debt

Me: I have all this useless information in my head for some reason. Like, which do you think came first, Mexico or New Mexico?
Her: I would think Mexico.
Me: And you would be wrong.

If social media has taught me one thing, it’s that (a) people are easily fooled because (b) we put a outsized value on common sense – but “common sense,” differs radically from one group to another.

For example, the German word for “debt” is the same as their word for “fault” and “shame” (in the sense of, “what a shame”) which tells you a lot about how they look at borrowing.

And that’s probably why Germany and Switzerland, both German-speaking nations, have the lowest home ownership rates in alla Europe.

Here in the US, it’s just common sense to strive for home ownership.

There, in Germany, it’s just common sense to never have debt.

As I see the kid grow up, it’s alarming how much certain bits of information is just taken for granted and is so often wrong:

These are all things that have the air of truth but only a tiny bit of actual truth to them.

Like all kids, he asks a million questions.

But, for some reason, when kids grow up, they stop asking questions and just assume that what they’re told is correct.

After a while, people just assume things – they don’t even need anyone to tell them stuff.

That’s why I’m hoping that the boy’ll always be curious and intellectually inquisitive.

Her: How is that possible?
Me: New Mexico was first called that in 1598 (Nuevo México) but what we now know as Mexico was never known as that until 1821; prior to that, it was known as New Spain.

Location: the Dakota bar, with a buncha school principals
Mood: floaty
Music: Man, it’s a hot one – like seven inches from the midday sun (Spotify)
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The right to be nobody

Just because I can

Him: But it fits!
Me: Kinda. You’re definitely Brittney Spearsing it here.

Clothes that I just bought for the kid last year are already not fitting him.

I remember that, as a kid, I loved this yellow shirt with a red V on it. Wore it until my bellybutton was constantly out, all Britney Spears like.

Think my parents were just happy that I didn’t ask for new clothes, but I always think that Alison woulda wanted him to be put together so I try my best.

My best being a sliding scale.

(c) Getty Images

Him: Why don’t you ever show my face?
Me: Because I don’t have that right. At least, I shouldn’t have that right.

Been enjoying my new gym – it’s interesting rolling with people from a completely new gym because no one knows my game and I know no one else’s game, so each roll feels very different than at my old gym.

Recently rolled with a very talented but smaller female. While I could have easily beat her, that wasn’t why I was there; I was there to get better.

Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should.

In a way, that’s why I don’t put up pictures of my kid where you can clearly see his face.

See, I grew up in a time where you could grow up in relative anonymity.

Never realized what a gift that was until YouTube because – MAN – did I do some jaw-droppingly bone-headed things when I was younger.

Legit, thank god everyone didn’t walk around with a video camera because I would most likely be hated by the world writ large.

In that sense, I feel that it’s not fair or right that I – as someone much bigger and much older than my kid – have the right to take away my son’s chance to be anonymous.

Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should.

He’s a little kid right now but little kids grow up to be adults.

When he is one, he might resent not being able to tell his own story his own way.

If you think about it, the thing that probably pisses you off the most is when someone else tells your story.

Janet? She’s such a slut. Did you hear last Friday, she…

Tom? He’s a loser. When we were kids…

That guy? Lemme tell you about him…

But I have to balance that with the fact that I’m proud of him – so proud of him – and what he can do so I wanna show him off.

And that’s really what it is with parents, isn’t it?

They want to show their kids off, not for their kids sake, but for their own. And that’s not right, I don’t think.

Just because they can, doesn’t mean they should.

So, my concession is that I blur or hide his face and name so that when/if he does want to have a public face/name, that’s his choice to make when he’s old enough to make that choice.

For now, I realize that, just because I could put up anything I want about him, I shouldn’t.

Me: One day, you’ll be old enough to decide who you are and how you want the world to see you. You and your friends are gonna be some of the first kids on the planet that’s lost that right to be a nobody.
Him: (thinking) What if I wanna be someone?
Me: That’s your choice to make. I’ve lived my life. I don’t have the right to live your life as well. You get to decide who and what you want to be. (pause) For what it’s worth, you’re always someone to me. You’re my most important someone.

Location: a pier with four lovely ladies – including the Firecracker – the boy, and a bottle of white
Mood: so. full.
Music: I just wanna be someone. Well, doesn’t everyone? (Spotify)
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Tearing away all but the things that cannot be torn

Forgetting I’m not 17

Her: Can you imagine what George Washington would say right now?
Me: “What an asshole?”
Her: Exactly.

A good buddy of mine hurt his leg the other day doing a harai goshi and sent me a video of it.

Fast-forward to earlier this week and the kid tried the same throw and almost broke his leg.

Him: Why are you mad at me?!
Me: I’m not mad at you, kid. I’m worried you’re gonna break your leg!

By Gotcha2 – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3096148

Both the body and mind grow through adversity.

This fella named Arthur Golden once said, Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.

Wanna give the boy enough stress to make him better, but not so much so as to make him worse.

On that note, I just went to my local urgent care office – again – because I thought I fractured my wrist in jits the other day.

Doctor: What happened?
Me: Essentially, I forgot that I’m 51 and not 17.
Him: (nodding) Ah…we get that a lot here.
Me: Yup.

Turns out that I didn’t have any broken bones, just a particularly bad strain.

The weirdest part was that no “event” happened – I just walked off the mat at the end and could barely move my wrist.

Not much to do but rest it up and hope it heals quickly.

I still have a small handful of kali students that I train over Zoom.

One of them is a doctor from Pittsburg that was in town the other day visiting his sister, who just happens to also live on the UWS.

So, we met up for a really brief bit to have a cuppa joe.

Me: It’s crazy when I think about it. My great grandmother was so poor that she sold her only child – my grandmother – to another family because she couldn’t afford to support her. She died not soon afterward. And here I am, an ivy league educated lawyer living in Manhattan. Nuts.
Him: Surprising how much similar history [we have] being second generation children of immigrants.
Me: Yeah. I wish my dad was still alive so I could tell him that I’m so sorry for being such an asshole when I was a teenager.

Location: yesterday, the waiting room of my local urgent care office
Mood: discomforted
Music: Sticks and stones won’t break our bones (Spotify)
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I finally understand

Just one day

I was in my local supermarket when I ran into one of the cashiers, Lucy, in the produce section.

Her: (walking up to me holding a cup of coffee and put it down) I understand now. About your wife. My…my husband died.
Me: What?! Good god, I’m so sorry.
Her: (nodding) He was sick for a while. I thought he would be ok but…he didn’t let me know how bad it was.
Me: (putting down groceries and giving her a hug) I’m so sorry. We’re never ready, are we?
Her: (shaking head) No. I didn’t think he would go.

I went home, got a red envelope, stuffed a few bucks into it and went back to give it to her.

Her: No, no, I’m fine, really.
Me: (gently) I’m sure you’re fine. This is just for lunch. Make sure you eat, ok?
Her: (taking it) OK. Thank you.
Me: I wanna tell you that it’ll be ok. It won’t be. But you have to keep telling yourself that it will be. After a while, it’ll be kinda ok.

The rest is her story to tell but I was in my own head for a while after that.

Then, I was walking with the kid and he turned to me said the most profound thing:

Flowers may bloom again, but a person never has the chance to be young again.

Assume he learned it in Chinese class (花有重开日，人无再少年) because he certainly never learned it from me.

But then…

Him: Flowers come back. Why can’t mommy come back?
Me: I dunno. I dunno.
Him: I wish she would come back. Just once. Just for a day, even. (trailing off). She can’t come back, not even for one day? Just one day?
Me: Man, if only, kid. If only…

That was a hard walk.

We have hard walks, sometimes.

My kid’s a lot more mature than other kids his age. Sometimes, I think of him like he’s a little man.

Dunno if this is a good thing or not. I’m thinking not.

Wish he was just a kid without alla this weight on him.

It’s too much weight for a little kid like him to carry.

Don’t want a little man. Not yet.

Just want him to be a little kid for a little bit longer.

Location: On West End Avenue, finding myself at a loss for words
Mood: contemplative
Music: been gone far too long (Spotify)
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