最后一课

当读到2020年是魔幻的一年时，不禁会心微笑。但是我还是要继续做好事做好人，欠这个世界的。这个博客提到了很多我的榜样。还有很多陌生人也是暗夜里的光亮，比如Randy Pausch。我2007年看到他《最后一课》的录像后，不知向多少人推荐过。这是录像的链接cmu.edu/randyslecture/ 。他去世前关于有效利用时间的录像也值得关注。

The Last Lecture

I could not help smiling in agreement when I read the comment on the year of 2020 unfolding as an apocalyptic sign. But I will continue to do good things and be a good person because I owe the world that with all the role models I mentioned in this blog. There are many strangers such as Randy Pausch who are also light in the darkness. I have recommended his "Last Lecture" to so many people after I watched it for the first time in 2007. Here is the link cmu.edu/randyslecture/ Another video by him on how to manage time before he passed away is also thought provoking. 

 肉垫里的荆棘

冬天来临，树叶落尽，寒风袭来。很多的人都在企盼2021年的到来，我想是对新生的向往之情吧。2020年像黑色幽默，令人避之不及。其实这一年快乐有时来的突然，而且原因简单：就像一段段唾手可得的生死交情，小狗肉垫里荆棘剔除后在金色秋天里的欢实，一顿简单的聚餐，一首舒缓的乐曲。当新的一年到来时，我们会有那么多的记忆，沉甸甸，但是丰富，充满美好。

Thorn in Paw

The winter of 2020 came with chilly wind and falling leaves. Many around the world already looked forward to the year of 2021, hoping for a new start maybe. Everyone wished to skip 2020 like a black humor. Yet as the year of 2020 unfolded, happiness often hit us suddenly for very simple reasons: life death devotions, a puppy running briskly on a golden fall afternoon after a thorn in his paw was carefully taken away, a shared meal, and a slow melody. When the new year of 2021 arrives, we will have many heavy memories which are rich and filled with beauty. 

 

White and Green

It was such a joy to see from above the white beddings the green world outside of the white window frame covered by white curtains. Birds sang and walked on the window sill. They could not help looking inside. The return of the nature after the wildfire and smoke was a pleasant surprise. Seasons change according to the the natural law, or yingyang. Human dignity and connections, and social rules demonstrate themselves fully where humans meet the nature. 

 

Little Floral Kitty’s Search for Home

          I live indoors most of the time now. I like to watch birds playing on trees, cables, and I like to hear their crisp chirps in the morning. I bounce around, wishing I could jump away to catch them. I like my fish, meat, and dry food. I would remind Mama of my wet food after I recovered from diabetes from time to time. Mama often reminds me of my work out with that dancing red light. All in all, my life is happy.

          Recently, Mama is amazed by my ability to recognize the grey mouse among my big pile of staffed toys. Maybe she is too old to remember I was two-months old when I met with her and fell in love with her. I mean, she is old, not according to my standard, but her type’s. OK, let me tell my story of my childhood’s wandering around.

          My real mother, Cat Mama had three children. My Mama now calls me “Floral Kitty” for the pattern of my fur. I have a sister with all black fur. I do not remember my brother’s look.

          When Mama saw my sister, she cuddled her for a long time. But I was fine with that, talking and snuggling close to a big group of runners. Only then did Mama notice me. My sister and brother had found home already. I wanted one, too. Late October in Kentucky was cold already.

          Mama fell in love with my cuteness, and of course the most beautiful kitty face in the world as well. Then Mama brought me to her car. When I sat on Mama’s lap and got ready to go home, my heart was pounding.

          The countryside in Kentucky was beautiful and sunny. The fall was dancing the last dance on trees at the end of October. I was a little worried about Cat Mama. I would not see her any more. I would not be able to have her milk any more. I would have to lick my own hair. Bye-bye, Cat Mama. I would always remember our home made of soft dry hay in the stable. The hay smelled sweet. I was frightened by those big, terrible mice, but I got used to their taste. I was also keen to catch little mice.

          Those little mice were so silly. They looked timid once caught, then they would try to run away when released. I pounced on them again and they would try to run away. I had so much fun playing with them! 

          I loved birds, too. But they were smarter than little mice, so I am still a little upset.

          Mama, do you understand now? I knew what mice were! I will try to recall other things and tell their stories. I am old, too! Meww…

 

 

小花流浪记

          我现在的生活大多在室内。我喜欢看清晨的鸟儿在树枝、电缆上跳跃，听它们清亮的鸣叫。虽然我也跟着它们腾挪，可它们太远了。我也喜欢我的鱼、肉罐头和干粮。自从糖尿病好了以后时时会提醒妈妈吃湿粮。妈妈会经常跟我玩锻炼游戏，捕捉红色光影。总之，还好啦。

          最近妈妈对我能在一堆布玩具中认出小灰鼠让她吃惊讶不已。也许是她老糊涂了，按照妈妈族的标准吆，都不记得我们初相遇时我已经两个月大了。哎，那好吧。讲讲相遇前的生活吧。也蛮久之前的事了。

          我的母亲猫妈妈养育了我们兄妹三个。我现在的妈妈叫我小花，因为我长得像小花狸猫。我有个姐姐，全黑的。我都不记得哥哥的样子了。

          妈妈一眼看到姐姐，亲亲抱抱。还好我不在乎啦，跟一大堆运动爱好者热络，妈妈这才注意到我。姐姐哥哥都有家了啦，我也好想有个家…十月天要凉了。

          妈妈一下爱上了我的性格，我那张世界上最漂亮的小猫脸也起了作用，抱着我到她的车里，准备回家了。站在妈妈的腿上我的心扑扑跳。

          肯塔基的乡下好美好美吆。十月底更是秋天挂在枝头跳最后一支招牌舞的时候。我有点担心母亲，以后见不到啦。奶没得吃了，也不能趴在她身上睡觉了，以后也只好自己打理自己的毛了。再见，母亲。我会记得我们在马厩里的家的。柔软干爽的草窝，还有奶香。那一只只灰鼠好可怕吆，那麽大。可是我也慢慢习惯了。尝过它们，也试过捕捉小灰鼠。

          小灰鼠傻傻的，被我扑到后呆住，放开它，它就开跑。我再扑它，它再跑。乐死人了。

          小鸟也是好玩的，就是比小灰鼠机灵。所以我到现在也难以释怀。

          妈妈，你现在明白了吗？我见过小灰鼠的！啊，别的事我再慢慢想想，慢慢讲吧。我也老了耶！喵…

 鲜花

          西雅图笼罩在雨中。海风不强，却有腥味，一阵阵透过口罩冲击我的鼻腔。海对面林立的楼宇和海面上忙碌的货船、游船带来了生活的气息。

          沿着海边的小路向前走，左首的住宅楼前一排小巧秀气的伞形绿树，红色、粉色的喇叭花簇拥树干，草坪修剪得很是整齐。公寓楼的住户在阳台上种了很多鲜花，公寓楼中间有两座两层的小楼鲜花更是掩住了楼体，别是一番天地。

          疫情在西雅图的痕迹只留下了“黑人的命也是命”（Black Lives Matter）的相片展。

          不时放眼海上。突然间脑中闪现2017年夏末秋初，我于阳光明媚中海上出行的情形。不过几个月后我突然失去了母亲。那些亮丽的风景完全失去了它们的欢乐色调。想来这些楼宇中的人家很多人正在经历这种物是人非的心境。

          我对母亲的怀念会是终生的。我想每一个失去至爱的人都会有这种如影随形的思念。这些思念因为美好而珍贵，也因着生活的不完美而生出新的希望。

          社会公正在私人和公众生活中的重要地位不言而喻。不论是种族平等，还是男女平等，还是任何一种不可或缺的平等，包括平等对待我们的自然家园，说到底不过是一个简单的选项。当我们选择平等，也就选择了爱。如Cornel West所说，“社会公正不过是爱在公众领域的体现。”如此而已。换言之，当我们选择了公正，人性光辉会将我们托举起来。反之，我们处于生物界的最下层。也唯有公正，才能打开我们的心结，视他人为同类，给我们爱的能力。

          啊，我车中的鲜花还在等着我。

 

Flowers

          Seattle was wrapped in rain. The salty smell of the breeze from the ocean penetrated the facial mask I wore. Buildings across the sea and the busy cargo and cruise ships brought back life to the city.

          I walked on the pavement along the shoreline. On the left was a line of short trees with a canopy trimmed into the shape of an umbrella spreading on the lawn. Pink and red petunias gathered around the trees. Many residents in the apartment buildings planted flowers on their balconies. Two houses covered by flowers stood side by side with an almost ethereal feel.

          The only hint of the pandemic in Seattle was an exhibition of photos from Black Lives Matter.

          I looked over to the ocean from time to time. Then the trip over the sea on a bright late summer early fall day in 2017 flashed upon me. My mother’s death merely a few months later shocked me. The joyful scenery looked bleak then. There must be many people living in these buildings around me who were going through the same ordeal.

          I will miss my mother the rest of my life, just like everyone else who was consumed by the sadness from losing a loved one. The memories were treasures gifted by a beautiful life lost. The imperfections in life gave us new hope.

          The importance of social justice is paramount in public and private spheres. Race, gender, and all necessary equalities, including the fair treatment of our mother nature, come down to a simple choice. When we stand by equality, we embrace love, just as Cornel West states “justice is what love looks like in public.” In other words, when we choose equality, humanity will lift us up. When we opt for inequality, we are at the bottom of the life chain. Conversely, only equality can open our mind to treat others as our own kind, which gives us the ability to love.

          Ah, my flowers were still waiting for me in my car.

 

 

井底之蛙

六月的清晨充满了草香和露珠。为了能做井底之蛙我兴奋不已，常常抬头看着天空。有时天空晴朗无云，有时阴云密布。有多少未知我们要面对？有多少美好我们可以当作救命稻草？无论如何，生活在继续，历史在前行。百年后我们生活的历史会更清晰可见。只愿不再有不可言语的阴霾。

Limited View of the Sky

The nice smell of grass and dew filled the mornings in June. A limited view of the sky from where I was excited me constantly. Clouds covered the sky on some days while on some other days vanished without any trace. How much uncertainty do we have to face? How much beauty can we use for rescue? Life always goes on and history never stops despite everything. Our lived history will have a clearer contour when the society is far more removed from the present. I hope for a time without any nameless clouds.  

I Don’t Want to Miss you

I missed the winter.

I missed the spring.

I may have to miss the summer.

But I don’t mind

If I don’t miss you.

There was death.

There was betrayal.

There was so much sadness.

But there was you

That stood by me.

I hoped for peace.

I strove for excellence.

I saw things differently in retrospect.

But nothing matters

As long as the flame of love 

Keeps on

Because you are still around.

错失

我错过了冬天，

失去了春天，

夏天眼看也要擦肩而过。

可是只要你在

什么都在。

死亡无处不在，

背叛也不新鲜，

道不尽悲从中来。

你却从来没有走远。

我祈望过平安，

为了出类拔萃努力拼搏，

回头时满目疮痍。

只要因着你的存在，

爱的火焰仍在燃烧，

这些哪有什么可提的？

美国的山河和四季：2020年母亲节纪念

          2013年夏天从肯塔基中部搬家到亚利桑那北部。作为U-Haul乘客，我记得温润的绿色变为干红色。2014年夏又搬到了科罗拉多州中部。作为司机，我记得我的小型汽车盘旋于崇山峻岭，穿过溪水茂林，滑过牛羊成群的草原，最后来到燥热的半沙漠。2015年夏，作为U-Haul司机，我拉着家当和汽车一路开到弗吉尼亚南部。科罗拉多以东是片片黄花地，美国中部的平原农田布满大型灌溉机，阿巴拉契亚直上直下的山路边藏着秀美的绿地、花园。2016年的夏天，再拉着家当穿越近二十英里的海峡开到马里兰的半岛。海鸥阵阵，江河入海，海风轻柔，阳光亮丽。2017年夏天，我开着我的五年伴侣小型汽车从东海岸到西海岸。记得罗斯福国家公园的牦牛群、秃山和总统一天痛失妻母的故事。

          这期间的旅行算下来行程远超两万英里，大概是地球赤道的长度。

          其间2014年冬天我乘灰狗大巴从科罗拉多到肯塔基，换小汽车到弗罗里达，再换乘大巴返回科罗拉多。纬度的关系，我看到了冰天雪地的西部、凉爽的南方海滩和绿植。2016年冬天我从弗吉尼亚坐火车到纽约。一路迷茫的雾和雪、纽约的节日购物人群、毕加索画展我记忆犹新。

          2017年春的陆路旅行始于马里兰，西至密苏里，北达威斯康辛，再折回马里兰。南方和中西部的油绿和马群偶尔被威斯康辛的皑皑白雪取代。2016年深秋我开车从弗吉尼亚到肯塔基，看到的是簇拥枝头的橙黄在山间绵延铺展。

          另有几次上述路线的重复旅行，加上在居住各州的专门景点旅行和其他旅行，美国的美丽山河、丰富的四季我了然于胸。

          中国俗语讲：读万卷书、行万里路。为的是长知识、吸纳自然的涵养。

          远方的母亲却在我这些不倦的旅行中渐渐病入膏肓，2018年初与姥姥九天内携手离世。我这些知识也终究没有派上用场。这几年也有师长和朋友离世，我也并没有能够尽我想尽的心。

          又值母亲节，想起了姥姥关于她身家后事的一句话：“人老了不走，那些年轻人往哪里放？”我想她的意思是她那些未能得到回报的付出是为了后代也可以为其他人无私地付出。这大概是传承的意思吧。

America’s Beautiful Land and Rich Seasons: On Mother’s Day of 2020

          In the summer of 2013, I moved from central Kentucky to Northern Arizona. As the passenger of U-Haul, I remember the shift from the greenness in misty warmth to the dryness of a red landscape. I then moved to central Colorado in the summer of 2014. I drove my compact car through steep valleys, shallow creeks, forests, and grassland with herds of cattle. My new home was located in a semi-desert wrapped in heat. The following summer saw me drive a U-Haul with my belongings and car attached to southern Virginia. To the east of Colorado, sprawling grassland was covered by wild yellow flowers. Massive irrigator machines decorated the central part of the country. Graceful gardens and lawns hid behind the steep mountain roads in Appalachia. Then the summer of 2016 witnessed my move to Maryland with the same gear through a 20-mile bridge over the ocean. I saw flocks of seagull and rivers merging with the sea in the bright sun while feeling a breeze blowing. In 2017, my 5-year companion car carried me from the east coast to the west coast. The image of buffalos and bold mountains in the Theodore Roosevelt National Park has followed me since then. So has the story of the president’s tragedy of losing two family members in the same day.

           The total distance of my trips on land during this period is well over twenty thousand miles, about the distance of the earth equator.

          In the winter of 2014, I took a grey hound bus from Colorado to Kentucky. Then a car took me from there to Florida after which I switched back to grey hound to return to Colorado. Due to the changing latitude, I experienced the icy west, and went to cool beaches and saw green tropical plants in the south. I took Amtrack train from Virginia to New York City in the winter of 2015. I remember the fog and snow along the way, NYC’s holiday shopping crowds, and the exhibition of Picasso’s paintings and sculptures.

          In the spring of 2017, I took a road trip from Maryland which took me to Missouri, then Wisconsin, and eventually back to Maryland. Exuberant grassland and horse farms in the south and mid-west were punctuated by deep snow in Wisconsin. In the late fall of 2016, I drove from Virginia to Kentucky. Orange and yellow leaves flowed in mountains after mountains.

          During this 5-year span, I repeated some of the above trips and had other travels. I also visited national and state parks and other tourist spots in my residential states. The beautiful land and rich seasons in the U.S. displayed themselves heartily to me.

          A Chinese proverb goes like this: one should read ten thousand scrolls of book and travel ten thousand li around the world. The purpose is to obtain knowledge and nurturing essence from the nature.

          While I engaged in these tireless trips, my mother on the other side of the globe gradually fell fatally ill. She passed away in early 2018, nine days after my grandmother’s death. I was not able to use the acquired knowledge in both forms to help my mother after all. The past several years also witnessed the passing of other important people in my life. I was not able to do what I would like to, either.

          Another Mother’s Day arrived since 2018, I recalled grandmother’s comment on her own death, “Where can young people find a place to stay if an old person never dies?” What she meant is probably that the unreturned favor to her should be selflessly given to others. Maybe this is what legacy is about.

Covid-19: Shared Meaning and Future

Abstract:

This creative writing uses Covid-19 to present two principal characteristics of symbolic interactionism. The first feature is SI’s assumption of human empathy. That is, people have the ability to understand other’s stand point. The second is the capacity of SI to link the macro and micro social phenomena.

          At around 9am on the last day of March 2020, I looked out of my window, a thick layer of frost had collected on my car. “The nature is indeed revengeful,” I sighed. The unseasonal snow and frost in the past couple of weeks in Central Washington did not help a bit with the Covid-19 pandemic. Yet, I could not help hoping and believing: the nature would eventually understand our pain when we retreated into our homes. Our withdraw from the invasion of the nature was a friendly gesture to it: we were one and we understood your suffering.

          In the midst of this first global public health event, I am as optimistic as everyone in the field of symbolic interactionism (SI) with regard to the human ability to empathize. I am probably a little more adventurous than many others to entertain the idea a shared meaning of life can be reached between human being and the nature. But of course, sociology, as a discipline, has always included the nature in our standpoint of collectivity. And I firmly believe SI does include such a conversation as we humans are embedded in the nature, which provides everything material and spiritual we need in life. What is more important than that?

          Just one month ahead of other countries, China was there in the dialogue with the worst of the nature in the form of the novel coronavirus. With that encounter came a changed way of life that impacted 1.5 billion people. It was a forced talk, but a talk that was necessary for the life as we knew it to continue. In pictures taken from the space, the rest of the world saw the end result of that conversation: a larger breathing room for the nature free from human activity. Now the rest of the world is forced to give the nature that space. As bizarre as it may sound, the pause in human industrial activity strikes a mutual understanding between humans and the nature. In a sense, it is a victory for both.

          If a sociological lens gives me the language to extend SI’s approach to shared meaning, SI does sociology a favor by linking individuals with the society. As sociologists, we often talk at extremely abstract levels such as race, gender, and class. Yet, social reality in our personal space never ceases to amaze us with human kindness as well as misbehavior. SI stitches together everyday life and abstracts. Interestingly, the most SI oriented remarks are from a friend who probably is not a trained scholar in the field. She said, “your family, your community, your country are the same people.” Artificially separating the macro from the micro can only produce misunderstanding of the real world we live in.

          The connection between the personal and collective is the reality we live in during this pandemic attack. The short time period since December 2019 witnesses individuals around the world act on their own and/or organized initiatives to help alleviate the damage, done by the pandemic to so many important aspects of our society: human life and mental health, economy, security, culture, education, and global cooperation. The list goes on. People living in epicenters of the pandemic volunteer at the expense of their own lives and resources for their families, communities, and countries. These are people from all most often used sociological categories such as race, gender, class, nationality, educational level, and so on. These people occupy all possible combinations of the above attributes. This small time span also shows how each person’s behavior is amplified in the spread of the virus from individuals to families, communities, countries, and now the planet, as 90% of the countries and regions in the world are living in the shadow of the disease. Some people add to the damage brought by the pandemic to profit themselves without discrimination. Not surprisingly, these individuals also share the same classifications and combinations of these characteristics. Indeed, individual and society depend on each other.

          At this point, we still do not know the outcome of the pandemic globally. However, some countries such as China, Japan, and South Korea seem to have successfully contained the virus. The joint effort of people in those countries and the world has yielded the first light of hope. Or rather, humanity has managed to survive.           

          I can hear the cynics: This pandemic is socially constructed by the overreaction of societies. I do not know how many lost lives can lend legitimacy to global coordination to end this tragedy. One? Ten? One hundred? Ten thousand? One hundred thousand? One million? Or more? I do know no one wants to be the human sacrifice behind that number. I also know at the current scale of damage the pandemic is causing the world, only concerted effort from all can stop its momentum as soon as we can.

          As it stands, this piece is hardly a personal account or an empirical paper. Rather, it is a summary and expansion of the principles of SI thanks to the unique challenges posed by the pandemic.    

          Let’s go back to the image of the space. It looks so inviting, so conquerable. But what is also possible is that we humans are crushed before take-off. This micro-organism we read in news every day shows that we are not yet allowed to be free from vulnerability. A universe we are dependent on can hardly tolerate an alien force we have learned to become to destroy it.

          Another space-related image comes to my mind as I am exhausting what I would like to say: a spaceship, ready to be ejected. This is from a television program I watched more than two decades ago. The message echoed by the anchor was: this spaceship is amazing, but it is just the tip of an ice burg of human capability. That ice burg itself was never able to emerge on the surface of the sea because of human internal conflicts. 

          To conclude, we need the optimism in human empathy symbolic interactionism so profusely provides. The capacity to bridge the micro and macro SI possesses is also keenly needed.

          Woops, I should not have written this piece. Covid-19 never happened. Sorry, it is a different day now. Happy April Fool’s Day!

         

          

园中漫步

          三月初华盛顿中部仍然是初春。信步公园，吹到脸上的晚风还有些凉，但是一池深蓝的湖水却丰沛充盈，很有些生命的讯息了。枝桠间的鸟儿呼朋唤友，湖上的几只鸭子结队前行。“春江水暖鸭先知，”一个新的春天悄然而至。一对夫妇在湖边垂钓，雪白的头发映着渐落的夕阳。

          此时的新闻如中国春节期间一样满是新冠肺炎的报道，往西一百英里的西雅图每天都有死亡病例，东邻的县也有了第一个病例。更有劝告老弱者闭户修养。可是这对夫妇却尽享二人世界的安详。我远远地摆手跟他们打了招呼。人生很长，也很短。很长，这样的天灾人祸每每会降临。很短，只要一个人的陪伴，再多的阴影也不过是风吹树梢的附和响应。

A Walk in the Park

          Early March in Central Washington saw the coming of the spring. I strolled in a park at dusk.  The Breeze was still chilly while the lake was dark blue, rich with life. Birds chirped to their fellows in trees. Several ducks swam together over the lake, quite a picture as described in a classical Chinese poem, “ducks are the messenger of the spring river warmth.” Another spring had landed here quietly. A couple were fishing by the lake, their silver hair shimmering against the setting sun.

          News around here were full of information about COVID-19, just as China a month and half before. Seattle, which was around 100 miles to the west, reported coronavirus-related deaths every day and our neighboring county to the east also had a confirmed diagnosis. Professionals advised the elderly and weak to stay at home. Yet, this couple seemed to be relaxed, enjoying the happiness of each other’s company. I waved “hello” to them from afar. Life can be long. It can also be short. Life is long due to the many ordeals we all have to endure. Life is short when the shadow becomes a pleasant whistle from the woods just because of a loved one’s company.  

2020年的春节

         2020年的春节与新型冠状病毒的爆发和恐慌同时降临。总想写些什么，却没有辞令。也许是寻求慰籍，也许是为了以书告慰母亲和外祖母，想到了2017年底、2018年初母亲去世前后的事，也找到了2018年的一些写作。

          “母亲去世前的两年我有幸与她见面并在她生命中的最后一个冬天与她相守五个星期。在她医院的病榻前我与母亲渡过了我的生日并合影。每每想到这些我不由得感到欣慰。我想生命本无意义。只有当你赋予了它意义，它才向你呈现意义。我在期望新的美好的旅程，因为很多人曾经、正在为我的人生付出。正像母亲说的：‘为什麽活着？为了别人。’”

The 2020 Chinese New Year

          The Spring Festival of 2020 arrived with a bang from the coronavirus and its shock. I had so much to say, yet not a single descriptive word or clue came to my mind. Instead, I found some writing from 2018 when I journaled after the passing of my mother and my maternal grandmother in early 2018. I would like to share those thoughts I had in memory of my mother while she went through the ordeal from late 2017 to early 2018. I found some comfort in these memories. I would also like to use this opportunity to offer my book to my mother and grandmother.  

          “I had the fortune to meet with my mother in the last two years of her life, and spend five weeks with her for the last winter she would ever see. I celebrated my birthday by tending to her needs by her bedside in the hospital. That birthday was captured by a picture. I could not help feeling grateful when recalling these invaluable moments. Meanings have to be endowed to life for them to show, I figured. I am hopeful of a new and beautiful journey because many individuals were and are sacrificing for my life. I remember my mother’s response to my question on meaning of life, “Why live? For others.”

金戒指和玉挂

          也许是前几天提起，这两天一直在想着姥姥小时候给我的一个许诺：“等你长大了，我给你一个金戒指。”

          我一天天、一年年长大，接受教育、工作。生活一天天、一年年过去，始终没收到姥姥的金戒指。也许她会在某个纪念日给我？某个节日？某个场合？没有还是没有。

          我实在等不下去了，就买了一对玉佛、玉观音送给姥姥、姥爷各自挂在脖子上。他们戴着玉佛、玉观音十几年一直到去世。

          去年十月份听一位加拿大的土著画家讲他的画。他的女儿一直趴在他旁边的地上看电脑。画家很自豪他可以谋得生计养家糊口，感叹养一个孩子很贵。

          顺着这条线想下去，小时候长住姥姥家大概也花销不菲。我又喜欢带街坊邻居小孩来姥姥家玩，很大方地把姥姥的东西送给他们。姥姥则仰起脸对站在土炕上的我很是敬仰：“俺家闺女真仁义。”如此下来，也只有金戒指可以支持这种大方了。

Gold Ring and Jade Necklaces

          A promise Grandmother made in my childhood kept coming back to me recently, “I’ll give you a gold ring when you grow up.” I remembered it probably because I talked about grandma a few days ago.

           I went to school, and then got employed. But Grandma seemed to have forgotten the promise of a gold ring. I counted days and then years, wishing she could hand the ring to me. On an anniversary maybe? Or a festival or special occasion? Still there was no ring.

          My patience ran out. I bought necklaces with jade buddha and bodhisattva pendants for my grandparents instead. They kept the jade necklaces on for over a decade till they passed away.  

          I went to listen to a Canadian indigenous artist’s talk on his paintings last October. His daughter watched her tablet by his side on the floor while he lectured. The painter was content he could make a living with art, because life was costly, particularly kids.

         I followed the train of thought and recalled my long-term stays with my grandparents when I was young. Those stays must have been hard to afford. And I enjoyed inviting my friends over to my Grandma’s house and gifting them with Grandma’ belongings. Grandma would look up at me as I stood on the brick and dirt bed with deep admiration, “How generous my girl is!” Generosity that could only be supported by a gold ring then.