The Lunar Epitome

Together Again.
The Chinese are particular about the eve.
The eve is the ultimate of the Lunar Year. Anything after this night holds less meaning.
 They call it the  Reunion Dinner.
At the occasion everyone eats over the table and say good things like; huat, huat, huat !
Huat - is the only word of importance in a typically Chinese home. To most typical Chinese clans, money is all that matters especially to my father's generation. The generation then travelled to the Nanyang Seas in search of gold and silver to survive. Plagued with poverty and hunger, they virtually sailed through rough waters for whatever fate had in store for them.

Chinese homes that sent their sons away prayed for prosperity and good fortune to befall them. Good sons meant that they sent money home to ease their parents' burdens. Unfilial sons did not send remuneration home and become woes and curse. Such is the mentality I believe, of Chinese homes.
The Chinese pray that their sons will be good seeds bringing fortune and fame to the family name. Sons become the revered lot; a preference over girls.

What happens to the girls then? They stay home and continue the line for the sons. So, it was imperative then that after marriage, the female lot belongs almost to the husband's family. What a deal. But the tradition continues till today. So, today is one such day; the Reunion dinner. At the Reunion dinner, sons must be home with the paternal side. The maternal home can be void of celebration if daughters are married and celebration starts only on the second or third day when the daughters 'huey niang jia' or return home to their mothers.

Strange, the world of technology changes perceptions and mindsets, but never this tradition.
So, on such an evening as today, I had the privilege of celebrating the eve with my 2 unmarried daughters and parents in good old Muar because my in-laws are no more around. I hope to savour in the good times for very soon my girls may be married off...

Happy New Year everyone.

May the year continue to bring good tidings, steadfastness and peace.

Weeks before the celebration, the city started its great effort in making sure shoppers enjoy the ethos and that business would spruce up with special decorations and colors.

They say the year of the ram is a year of amicability and peace. The animal is symbolic of submission and docility. There should be peace and great negotiations.

It is undeniable that the sure-footed animal is out to minimize mistakes and maximize best practices. 

In school, the children took an active role in decorating the grounds of the school with red lanterns and couplets of great tidings and greetings. Just a string of lanterns and it could cheer the place up.

In Singapore, her Chinatown is adorned with bright lights with the image of the ram standing high along the main street. 

Shoppers thronged the place with joy and energy to usher in the year of the ram.

 The streets of Chinatown in Singapore is a sight to behold. Children and adults are kept busy with the manifestation of lights and merriment. It is indeed exciting to shop here. 

It gives one the happy mood.

At home, Esther is back to her old self again. Origami keeps her busy as she attempts to fold fishes out of the red packets...'nien nien yu yi' is a connotation of continuous flow of provisions and good tidings.

Pretty origami that brightens Por Por's house.

So, wherever we may be, it is good to have a home to return to. 

Home is truly where the heart is.

However grand a house one may have, it's never like being home with loved ones.

Happy Ram Year.

I was born in the year of the Ram.

So, it should be a year to remember by before the next cycle.

I Am Sorry

The story of my life.

 My master is very fond of me for without me he finds it difficult to navigate in the pool. My master has  tough days and he loves to have a few strokes to relax. I am proud to be a part of his life as it proves that I am good for him. I was a Christmas gift. I know he loves me. He usually puts me in a special room next to his working table and very conveniently he will pick me up for his nightly strokes.

That evening was one such evening. I wanted him to put me on so that he would be comfortable in the water.

The evening breeze added a relaxing atmosphere. My mistress was hanging around giving instructions; as usual. But she can be right at times too when she asked him to be careful. My master enjoyed the activity but unconsciously took me off. I was left on my own. I began to be careless and wandered away. Yes, it was fun indeed. I was flighty and floating ! Hurray it was good to be free and easy. I am bouncing with the waters and moving with the waves.It was indeed pleasurable.But I also forgot myself. Oops ... hey the waters are carrying me away from my master.

 Help.

My master was not listening to me. Then I knew something dreadful was going to happen. Blurp, blurp, hey I was sucked into that hole ! What was that? Where was I going? How was my master going to find me? Would I ever be with him again? Oh no, it was impossible. I had lost my way.

Yes. That's the hole I was talking about.

Now, what next? What's my destiny? How could such ill fate befall me? Why was I so playful and careless? I had only myself to blame.Where was my next course of journey? I was scared. I had to face along and arduous journey; to don't know where. Really. Don't know where.

Yes, underground. I had to maneuver along that path under the pavers. Oh no, what fate was that? What was going to happen now? Did I need to go along the path? Would I cause havoc to anyone? But the choice was not mine. There was no other route to move. I moved; yes I jolly well had to move. But the road seemed long and narrow. Yet, I had to trudge and trudge. I was not enjoying the journey as the path was dark and it was tight ! 

Hey, the waters were helping me in my movements. They were giving me that push through the path. I would have been stuck somewhere if not for the force of the waters. But, it seemed an endless route.

It had been many, many days. I was still stuck along the path. It was a desolate situation. I had to pay such a hefty price for being careless. 

Believe me when I say I had to navigate so tightly along those pipes. Yes, how was anyone ever going to discover me? Could the impossible happen? What was my master's decision. Had he forgotten about me? Would he rescue me? What had I done to the waters in the pool? 

YES, I was the main cause of the colour of the pool. My master had chlorinated the pool but to no avail as I had blocked the flow of water into the pump ... I am sorry. But I prayed that I would be discovered. Many an evening I saw my mistress overlooking the pool and praying for a solution to the mind-boggling situation. The pool specialists had never seen anything like that and they were dumbfounded.

Now, they want to replace the pump. I heard so much squabbling between my master and them.It must be the malfunctioning pump that had caused the condition.My master was furious and curious. 

My mistress asked about me in a conversation. Had I been found? Could I be the cause? My master decided that he had to take some serious effort to find me. He reckoned that I could be a possible menace.

My master is super smart; smarter that the pool specialists. He recognized that I could have cruised along the pipes and blocked the passageways of water to the pump. He dug and dug. He dug along the pavers and he opened up the pipes too. Alas, I was not to be found. It puzzled him that I could have found my way to the pipes at the pump room. He stopped digging 

My master fathomed that it was impossible that I could even reach those red valves on the left that locked waters; and even more impossible to reach that black check valve on the right. Yet he dutifully opened the red valves but I was not to be found.
My master had given up all hope of finding me.

Would you have given up?
 My master stopped his operations. Now I know I would never be found and I would continue to be a threat to the health of the pool.
 I really was such a menace.

But my master is not someone who gives up easily. He came back for me again ! Hurray he came back for me again ! He had decided that he would open up that black check valve. Though he found it impossible to imagine me sailing to that corner, he nevertheless attempted the last effort to find me.

I was found.

Cruising there was not without pain. I had to nudge and trudge and it hurt. But the force from the sucking pump was merciless. I was coerced into submission but the black check valve was the last point for me. No amount of force could carry me across but being stuck there meant the pump was hampered in its effort to cleanse the pool.

No doubt. I was the cause of all confusion and heartaches.

I am sorry. 

I am that guilty party.

Master, I am sorry.

Thank you for finding me; though a part of me has been wounded.

 Now, I also know I can no longer serve you. 

 Sad.

I am now resting.

That's the story of my life.

Half-Price

Reality.

I always still think I am young; no extra data on the numbers of pressure, cholesterol and strong physical gait. But the ticket that I purchased at the TBS terminal on a journey home to see my parents last weekend told me otherwise.

I am entitled to half price on the bus.

Why ?

The sales girls told me I am already of age; I belong to the veteran group now.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that I am really a veteran already.

So, what next?

How do I behave?

It is difficult to organise my thoughts, really.

My parents have always been my measure of what vitality means.

Mum is strong in spirit but physically challenged after a fall.

Dad has always been the epitome of great health.

But the degenerative effect of the nervous system has a grim effect on movements.

So my dear parents are facing the sober realities of ageing.

Today, I went with dad to our usual haunt; the Ah Pek Teochew noodles stall. 

Kung loves to eat. He misses his breakfast treats because Por Por; his constant companion is challenged by the fall. So, at every opportunity, accompanied by loved ones, he will want those treats again. This was one morning. On the trip home, he asked for those noodles. See, Kung is so handsome even at 96. I gazed at him with so much pride. He is living a commendable existence; works hard, is not slothful and still pays income tax. My sister keeps ranting that he must be the oldest person to contribute actively to the nation. He can easily call it quits; but he does otherwise. He can easily dodge that tax; but he chooses otherwise.
 My father, I am proud of you.

As we drove home, Kung reflectively reiterated that it is hard for him to accept that he sometimes limps because of that sudden loss of energy. He says it is because of his age; that though he does not have major ailments, the degenerative state crops in undoubtedly. I am saddened by this reality. But that are facts of life we have to face. The best antidote is to enjoy every moment possible with him.

This walking stick never struck me like before. Many an old folk needs aid from it. When I chose to open my eyes, I saw at least a couple strolling in the coffee shop with it. Now I no longer doubt the need for it. My mother needs it for the moment to aid her walk after that dreadful fall.She is trying very hard to gain normalcy. 

 Who would ever imagine my parents having to be aided by that chair? Arrogance has to be removed and humility must come in. That sometimes we need to submit to reality and facts of life. Por Por needs it now for movement but we really hope she will outgrow that over dependence.

We now know that Kung cannot enjoy a long stroll anymore. So, on a trip to Singapore last weekend, we insisted that he climbed onto that chair. He related that it would be total embarrassment but we assured him that he was not in Muar. That there was no one to recognise him; that it was perfectly acceptable. He agreed and so he had a treat around the mall. But I have yet to accept the reality of it.

So,the reality of ageing is there.

It needs to be accepted.

So, we pray for God's grace; that we be seen through them.

Craftsmanship

 Creativity is genetic.

Papa Lau comes from a family of art. That is so real. He loves to draw, create and build. He can build buildings and he is also into crafting. Many a time you will find him sawing, nailing and creating. Last weekend he spent hours doing stuff that a real man does. I believe he enjoyed every moment of the afternoon while his wife and daughter were busy scouring the streets of Kuala Lumpur.

 Before we girls left for town, he had that piece of wood under his capable hands and I wondered what he was up to.

 Very soon, I saw a piece of art coming into shape.

When we came home later in the evening we saw the beautiful piece proudly placed at a corner of the house. That's a beautiful table, isn't it? Papa Lau saved many hundreds just in an afternoon.

How many men in these days can create this as a hobby? Not many, I am sure.

Rare species.

 Rarer still is to find the fairer sex wanting to nail and hit.

But it's true. Esther is so her father's daughter. She also loves to do what papa does.

When people throw away palettes of wood, she picks them up and creates.

 The craftsman's daughter surely does her father proud too.

Esther created a coffee table to save money too.

What similarities.

What more can a man want in the fairer sex ?

 Like papa, Esther loves to draw. 

During her undergraduate days, when she came home for her breaks, she created many pieces.

Both would then ponder and consider over the art and improve.

This piece has since been framed and now is hung at the stairways .

 While papa and Esther loves to paint, draw and build, Sara is also genetically creative.

Having picked up the art of baking on her own, Sara bakes pretty well. Somehow, cakes and biscuits taste good and you crave for more after a first bite. I wonder what her secret is.

 Mint cup cakes are quite easily done but  the taste is not easily forgotten though.

Her Oreo choc cup cakes are well concocted and are yummy.

Her butter cup cakes melt in your mouth.

So, now you tend to believe that creativity is genetic?

It really runs in the Lau home.

 

When we were clearing the house last week, I picked up two patch work done by both of them some years ago. I remembered Esther making that mouse deer on the left as a parting gift for me before she left for Melbourne. Sara took up the challenge of creating another one too. Both are different but definitely similar in the motive. They both are creative. I threw away many things in a move but I simply could not throw away the above. I keep them in my room and still love to keep them because they remind me of the innate art in them.

They are their father's daughters.

Creativity is indeed genetic.

The Lau girls  are creative.