Archive for the ':: family ::' Category

Thinking of Dad… 6 years after his passing…

Last year, my cousin Superha surprised us by emailing a scan of an old snapshot of my Dad, her Dad and my Mom from the 1980s taken at their old home in El Monte. I cropped the photo so it would just be of my Dad, but in the original photo, all 3 of them are looking off-camera at… something… Since I couldn’t tell what they were looking at, I asked Superha if she had any idea when the photo was taken, and she said, "We used to have parties there all the time. This was that open porch area that my father created between the main house and the garage that he turned into their home office/master bedroom. We had backyard barbecues with my mom’s famous marinated chicken drumsticks. Good times. I know my parents really enjoyed the company of both your parents." Thanks to her for sending this picture and reminding me of the family parties and barbecues our families used to have together.

Speaking of those parties, I saw Superha’s parents over the weekend at my other Auntie & Uncle’s “4th of July on June 30th Party,” and they invited us over to their home on the 4th to celebrate.

Although my Mom, my brother & I are all here in the L.A. area, we are a bit off our normal schedule since my Mom had a spill the other night and is nursing a (hopefully not major) knee injury. Mom is not a good patient and she is extremely stubborn; refusing to use a wheelchair or a cane, despite the fact that her entire leg was swollen. Knowing that Mom is going to refuse to stay seated, I’m thinking that we’re going to take it easy and celebrate quietly.

One of the hardest parts of losing Dad is not having him around for the celebrations, big and small. I miss him daily.

From last year (2011):
http://www.jozjozjoz.com/2011/07/02/thinking-of-dad-5-years-after-his-passing/
From last year (2010):
www.jozjozjoz.com/2010/07/02/thinking-of-dad%E2%80%A6-4-y…
From two years ago (2009):
www.jozjozjoz.com/2009/07/02/thinking-of-dad-3-years-afte…

-Joz
~~~~~~~~~
Due to popular request, this is my signature: (-_-) Did someone blink?
www.jozjozjoz.com

Six years ago today…

…my life changed forever.

I still miss my Dad everyday.

Today Yoshi and I had to run some errands and get my car brakes taken care of. We went to visit with our friend Todd and grab dinner with him. Todd and I met online around six years ago and although we didn’t know each other well, his compassion during that time of my life helped our friendship grow. I’m grateful for all the good people I have in my life.

“Trick-or-Treat Goodies (our way)” – Year Eight (is Great!)

Long time readers of this blog will remember the original version of “Trick-or-Treat Goodies (our way)” post made in 2004. This story received an update in 2008, but it remains the unedited (save for some formatting corrections) for Year Eight (2011).

This has been such a crazy busy year, that I can’t remember what I did for a costume in 2010 (did I even get dressed up last year?!). This year, I recycled that ugly red dress I originally wore to the first Blogger Prom and added a few more red pieces to be Jozzy Red Riding Hood. (Or in Ernie’s words “Jozzy Joz Riding Joz.”) I wore this redtastic getup to work even though I had a in-person/video conference presentation at 9am.

At lunchtime, a group of us took a trip to the Disney Studio Lot to check out costumes and watch a bit of the Halloween Costume Contest (judged by Bob Iger, Anne Sweeney and other big time Disney execs.) Before getting to the fun and games, however, my passengers and I had a small adventure in the parking structure where we had to squeeze into a teeny tiny parking spot because other people don’t know how to park. The short version is that with the help of @unpoete, I was able to get my car into a parking spot where the car was literally TOUCHING a concrete post (but not scraping). Even more amazing, we were able to dislodge the car without any damage… it was magic via teamwork! (Unfortunately, this entire situation apparently caused a bit of stress during lunch for @microhan who, along with @unpoete and S, seemed way more concerned about my car than I was.)

What else? Since another Blogger Prom hasn’t happened yet, I’m still the reigning Blogger Prom Queen. On the homefront, we have decidedly less annoying neighbors– so less #neighborhooddrama or #neighborhooddorama to report. On the downside, we continue to live out of boxes and I still have no idea where the vast majority of my stuff is.

2011 has been NON-STOP for me… off the top of my head, major extracurricular activities I helped organize/produce included: Banana2 Conference, IWMF International Conference of Women Media Leaders in DC, Passport DC’s Around the World Embassy Tour, AAJA LA’s 30th Anniversary Trivia Bowl, IWMF’s Courage in Journalism Awards show in Beverly Hills… all this in addition to my responsibilities as Co-Editor of 8Asians, Secretary of the Boards of East West Players and the Asian American Journalists Association (Los Angeles Chapter)… and oh yeah, a day job that actually pays the bills.

Ack, I’m tired just thinking about it. Anyway, here’s my annual Halloween story posted in honor my Mom, who is in Taiwan (again) this fall. I hope you enjoy it (again or for the first time).

Happy Halloween.

Joz at the pumpkin patch in 1984.  I like how my eyes are closed in this shot.  (How did 20 years go by so quickly?!)When my brother and I were kids, we learned about most American traditions for the first time either on television or in school. Since our parents had come from Taiwan to the United States only a couple of years before I was born, they pretty much learned about American holidays at the same time my brother and I did… and that was usually when I came home from school talking about something I’d learned in class.

Of all the various American holidays we’d learned about, Halloween was especially exciting because my Mom had fun with “dressing us up.” Although she claimed that she didn’t know how to sew, she always came up with costumes for us… like the year my brother was a cowboy with a little red cowboy hat and matching vest, and I was an Indian squaw complete with feathers in my hair. Having costumes meant that we were sufficiently prepared to go trick-or-treating and to come home with a bag full of candy that we weren’t actually allowed to eat, since it would “rot our teeth out of our mouths.”

My mother has a background in medicine, having gone to medical school in Japan and then becoming a pharmacist in Taiwan. Although she liked getting us in costumes and taking us trick-or-treating, she never allowed us to eat the candy we brought home because it was full of sugar and artificial flavors and colors. Since we weren’t allowed to eat the candy, the strategy was to take us out early & to give away the candy that we had received earlier in the evening. We didn’t mind having our candy passed back out again; Mom had scared us about the dangers of sugary treats and really, the candy wasn’t important to us… we just loved the costumes and going door-to-door.

One year, my Mom informed us that our cousins were planning to come to our neighborhood so we could all go trick-or-treating together. We would be going at later time than our usual “early shift.” Since our cousins actually kept their candy, Mom decided that rather than re-distributing the candy my brother and I got via our front door, instead, our lucky cousins would go home with a double-bounty of candy, theirs AND ours! That also meant that Mom would actually have to prepare treats in advance for Dad to pass out while we were trick-or-treating.

And since I was starting to have neighbor kids in the same classes with me, I started becoming concerned about exactly what candy was being given away at our front door. I still remember the day Mom returned from the supermarket, proudly announcing that she had purchased “the BEST trick-or-treat goodies” for the neighborhood kids. My brother and I excitedly went through the grocery bags but we didn’t find any Smarties, M&Ms, little Snickers bars, or even candy corn.

“Mom?” I asked, combing through the groceries. “Where are the treats?”
Continue reading ‘“Trick-or-Treat Goodies (our way)” – Year Eight (is Great!)’

Five years ago today…

…my life changed forever.

Because I was running errands a few weeks ago near the resting place of my father’s ashes, I stopped by and visited. I thanked my Dad for everything that he sacrificed so that I could have the life that I do.

I still miss him everyday.

Google Voice sucks at transcribing voicemails from my Mom #4

I love Google Voice but it sucks at speech-to-text translation from my Mom. Of course this is not GV’s fault because most of the time, my Mom is speaking Chinese or maybe Chinglish at best. I really don’t expect it to translate twice! Here’s one example:

8/29/10 6:18 PM
Alright. Hello. Bye, hey hello, hello hey Yeah, Yeah, hello hello.

Note: I don’t know what my Mom was doing when she called me, but at first it sounded like she was talking to someone else. But then she did say “Hello, Jocelyn. Hello?” Google Voice has not gotten my name right yet.
What GV got right: Hello; hello (in italics)
What GV got wrong: Everything else.

Google Voice sucks at transcribing voicemails from my Mom #3

I love Google Voice but it sucks at speech-to-text translation from my Mom. Of course this is not GV’s fault because most of the time, my Mom is speaking Chinese or maybe Chinglish at best. I really don’t expect it to translate twice! Here’s one example:

8/18/10 6:57 PM
Hi thinking want to Advanta the Naperville that. Yeah on my dancing at staple, and I won’t be bugging out the out if you have a holler at you with that and Give me a call, okay bye bye and we will meet you know what way that with you. Bye bye, okay bye bye.

Note: Message left mostly in Chinese, some English words.
What GV got right: okay bye bye (in italics)
What GV got wrong: Everything else.

Google Voice sucks at transcribing voicemails from my Mom #2

I love Google Voice but it sucks at speech-to-text translation from my Mom. Of course this is not GV’s fault because most of the time, my Mom is speaking Chinese or maybe Chinglish at best. I really don’t expect it to translate twice! Here’s one example:

8/19/10 12:04 PM
Destiny. I mean the me. I will go to. I’m back. If you, the it. And we’d been saying for you okay bye bye.

Note: My Mom actually left this entire message for me in English
What GV got right: If you; for you okay bye bye (in italics)
What GV got wrong: Everything else.

Google Voice sucks at transcribing voicemails from my Mom #1

I love Google Voice but it sucks at speech-to-text translation from my Mom. Of course this is not GV’s fault because most of the time, my Mom is speaking Chinese or maybe Chinglish at best. I really don’t expect it to translate twice! Here’s one example:

8/30/10 8:44 AM
I was in my name is Anthony Now, what things can and coming out if you could please call. They had a so it’s a hump. This week or so if you Not Gonna on sell spent in so. It’s all about the Nokia nadski says if you could. All. So, listen to your home okay just now, ohh.

Note: Message mostly in Chinese
What GV got right: ohh (in italics)
What GV got wrong: Everything else.

“Trick-or-Treat Goodies (our way)” – Year Seven–even though I somehow missed Year Six

Another Halloween and in going back to copy and paste my annual Halloween post, I just realized that I somehow missed posting this last year. So it has been two years since I last posted this slightly updated version of the original “Trick-or-Treat Goodies (our way)” post made in 2004.

I think I might have forgotten to post this last year, because I actually planned to go to my friend Dave’s Halloween Bash and was worried about putting a costume together: Miss Scarlet from Clue. But in reality, the costume wasn’t that difficult to put together because, I was just trying to find another reason to wear that ugly red dress I wore to the first Blogger Prom and all I had to do was to convince Yoshi to let me buy (and carry around) a red pipe wrench all night.

This year finds me crowned as the reigning Blogger Prom Queen (Hey! Can I just wear my tiara and call that a costume?!) and living next door to annoying neighbors– #neighborhooddrama or #neighborhooddorama! I’m a little scared to be at home for Halloween because I really don’t know what this neighborhood has in store for us tonight. I may wake up and find the front of my house egged or TP’d. If only being Blogger Prom Queen meant that I could live in the Official Blogger Prom Castle, but alas, the Blogger Prom Kingdom was rocked with subprime mortgages last year before I took the throne. Last I heard, the Castle is in the midst of being foreclosed upon. Bummer.

Actually, I was supposed to meet up with EB in Vegas for Halloween, but I canceled the trip, seeing as I’ve been traveling almost every weekend since Labor Day. I also got sick last night, so it’s probably a good thing I didn’t fly to Vegas on Friday night as planned. But since I had not planned on going to any parties in L.A., it means I’ll probably be sitting inside the house, hiding in the dark from the trick-or-treaters since I didn’t even bother to buy candy this year…

Nonetheless, I am taking a couple of moments to post my annual Halloween story in honor my Mom, who is in Taiwan (again) this fall.

Happy Halloween.

Joz at the pumpkin patch in 1984.  I like how my eyes are closed in this shot.  (How did 20 years go by so quickly?!)When my brother and I were kids, we learned about most American traditions for the first time either on television or in school. Since our parents had come from Taiwan to the United States only a couple of years before I was born, they pretty much learned about American holidays at the same time my brother and I did… and that was usually when I came home from school talking about something I’d learned in class.

Of all the various American holidays we’d learned about, Halloween was especially exciting because my Mom had fun with “dressing us up.” Although she claimed that she didn’t know how to sew, she always came up with costumes for us… like the year my brother was a cowboy with a little red cowboy hat and matching vest, and I was an Indian squaw complete with feathers in my hair. Having costumes meant that we were sufficiently prepared to go trick-or-treating and to come home with a bag full of candy that we weren’t actually allowed to eat, since it would “rot our teeth out of our mouths.”

My mother has a background in medicine, having gone to medical school in Japan and then becoming a pharmacist in Taiwan. Although she liked getting us in costumes and taking us trick-or-treating, she never allowed us to eat the candy we brought home because it was full of sugar and artificial flavors and colors. Since we weren’t allowed to eat the candy, the strategy was to take us out early & to give away the candy that we had received earlier in the evening. We didn’t mind having our candy passed back out again; Mom had scared us about the dangers of sugary treats and really, the candy wasn’t important to us… we just loved the costumes and going door-to-door.

One year, my Mom informed us that our cousins were planning to come to our neighborhood so we could all go trick-or-treating together. We would be going at later time than our usual “early shift.” Since our cousins actually kept their candy, Mom decided that rather than re-distributing the candy my brother and I got via our front door, instead, our lucky cousins would go home with a double-bounty of candy, theirs AND ours! That also meant that Mom would actually have to prepare treats in advance for Dad to pass out while we were trick-or-treating.

And since I was starting to have neighbor kids in the same classes with me, I started becoming concerned about exactly what candy was being given away at our front door. I still remember the day Mom returned from the supermarket, proudly announcing that she had purchased “the BEST trick-or-treat goodies” for the neighborhood kids. My brother and I excitedly went through the grocery bags but we didn’t find any Smarties, M&Ms, little Snickers bars, or even candy corn.

“Mom?” I asked, combing through the groceries. “Where are the treats?”
Continue reading ‘“Trick-or-Treat Goodies (our way)” – Year Seven–even though I somehow missed Year Six’

Belated but not forgotten Ba-Ba Day (2010)

Originally written 8/8/07 and accidentally posted to 8Asians:

8/8 (Eight-Eight in Mandarin is pronounced “ba-ba.” Father in Mandarin is also pronounced “ba-ba”) is Father’s Day in Taiwan. Even though we refer to him as “Dad” in English, 95% of the time, we called him “Ba-Ba.” Usually, my Dad would be in Taiwan at this time of year, so I would have to remember to call him on 8/7 so I could wish him a happy Ba-Ba Day on the right day.

Happy Ba-Ba Day, Dad.

We miss you.

Dad & Joz - 10-04-2007

I originally couldn’t remember where this picture was taken. I knew that it was taken on October 7, 2004, and thanks to my blog, I was able to go back figure out the context of this photo. I think this was taken in Rowland Heights, just before my Dad was going to get on to a shuttle bus that would have taken him to LAX to board a flight back to Taiwan.

Thinking of Dad… 4 years after his passing…

Sometimes I get really sad when I look at old pictures of my Dad because I
love him and still miss him so much. I scanned this photo years ago and
have no idea when it was taken or what the occasion was. Store-bought cake
probably meant that it was someone’s birthday and my Dad is cutting an
Italian Rum cake with Baby Joz on his lap.

I love how young and happy my Dad looks in this picture. At this time in
his life, he would have been done with graduate school a few years prior,
moved from New York to Los Angeles after school, started working for a large
architectural firm, gotten married to my Mom, and had become a new Dad to
boot. The world and was still opening up to him– and I believe my
Grandparents (his parents) had also immigrated to the U.S. from Taiwan,
bringing the people he most loved together in the United States– a land of
freedom, independence, and opportunity. I imagine that all areas of his
life were coming together at this time and I hope he got to enjoy it a bit,
seeing as he was the type of person who never took the time to "enjoy
himself."

I’m realizing that he was probably about my age (or maybe even younger than
I am now) when this picture was taken. We still have that table somewhere
in storage, I think. Some of that stemware is still around, too.

Oh and see how fascinated with the cake I am in the photo? I guess some
things never change.

From last year (2009): Thinking of Dad… 3 years after his passing…

~~~~~~~~~
Due to popular request, this is my signature: (-_-) Did someone blink?
www.jozjozjoz.com

Four years passes quickly…

I miss my Daddy an extra lot today.

See: How do you start a post like this?

Happy birthday, Daddy. (Today you would have been 65…)

Dear Dad,

Today would have been your 65th birthday, which you I know you had been looking forward to because it was when you were planning on retiring– or at least thinking about it, anyway. I think if you were here today, I would have called you to wish you a happy birthday and then planned on celebrating you and Bro’s birthdays over the weekend. You would have asked why I’m not married yet and hinted for grandchildren. I would have avoided your line of questioning, gotten annoyed at you for being so nosy about my life, and changed the subject. And then we would have had a large family meal together over the weekend and had one of our wonderfully animated “family debates” about Taiwan, politics, and things going on in the news before having cake and taking pictures. Maybe you would tell us silly jokes and funny stories. Maybe we’d even go into the garage and go through old photo albums while you told us stories about our family history and I would get mad at you for telling me the stories instead of writing them down. I miss you very much and sometimes I dream about you still being with us to do all these things together.

I didn’t always understand this when I was younger, but now that you’ve been gone for almost 4 years, I realize and appreciate that you sacrificed your entire adult life for the well-being of the people you loved. Through your example, we learned how important it was to respect and care for our parents as they got older. You weren’t just the picture of a perfect son to Grandpa & Grandma; you truly embodied the spirit of 孝 (filial piety) in every decision you made.

When I was younger and more arrogant, I thought I knew better than you did — I didn’t always understand your “old-fashioned” and “Taiwanese” points of views. I got angry at some of your decisions. I was stubborn and sometimes disrespectful. But through it all, I felt very much a sense of 孝 toward you and Mom and it only deepened when you left this world. I hope you realize that this was one of your enduring legacies.

No matter what, you always respected my thoughts and opinions, letting me express myself even if we actually disagreed, even if I had been rude, and even if I was arguing with you just to argue. I like to think that I grew out of this ugly stage of my life after I was done being a teenager, but that didn’t really happen until I was done with college. I guess it took a while for me to mellow out, to learn to be more compassionate, and to stop lashing out at you for things you couldn’t control. But I’m glad it did happen in time for us to have several years together where I didn’t constantly feel at odds with you.

I can’t say I regret my behavior because clashing with you made me a stronger person. You were so stubborn in your thoughts that you made me fight to try to even sway you a little bit. You made me realize that even if we disagreed with each other, we could both still stand strong and both be a little right or a little wrong. You rarely raised your voice at me and amazed me with the calmness in which you approached everything. Rarely shaken, it made me angry that when I screamed at you, you’d just look at me sternly and respond to me as if I hadn’t been behaving like a madwoman. I’m glad it didn’t happen that often, but thank you for letting me scream at you, even though it wasn’t very 孝順 of me.

I’m talking a lot about our disagreements because those are the vivid memories, but really, we didn’t disagree so much as we liked to talk about the world and debate about everything. I know that I became more opinionated because you challenged me to think and analyze things thoroughly. Sometimes I would take a position just to be on the opposite side as you– but I had to learn how to defend it! I couldn’t come to the dinner table and be unaware of the world’s events. I constantly had to enrich myself with books, magazines, newspapers, and later, the Internet so that I could be ready for you. I learned to love learning because of you. I still win at “homework” and research because it wasn’t good enough to know things on a surface level– I had to know things through and through or you’d pick my arguments apart in an instant.

If there is something that I learned from the way we lost you, it is that life doesn’t always turn out the way you think it will. But the other thing that I learned after you passed away is what a truly honest and respectable man you were in the way you lived your everyday life. In taking over your responsibilities, Bro and I learned how much we took you for granted and how much you did for our futures. You never took any time to enjoy yourself because you gave everything you had to the rest of us– that is why it hurts so much to realize that you never made it to retirement age– the age that you were planning to start “enjoying life more.”

I always thought that Mom was the one who sacrificed herself and her dreams for other people, but I didn’t realize until you were gone that you had done so as well. I wonder how much more you might have achieved if you had stayed in Taiwan instead of coming here and starting up everything from scratch? I cannot imagine picking up my entire life to move to another country and having to learn a new language, new laws, and new culture as you did. I know now that you struggled to raise a family in America so that we could have freedom, democracy, and opportunities you never had. I know that I was always grateful, but it wasn’t until the past 4 years that I began to understand the depths of your sacrifices for us. I probably didn’t say it enough when you were around, but thank you, Daddy.

Today is your birthday, Dad. And I wish you were still here to enjoy your 65th birthday, as you deserved to.

I love you and miss you everyday.

Dad & Joz

The above photo was taken on April 2, 2006, on my Dad’s 61st birthday.

The obligatory blog post about the crazy woman I called the cops on.

If you follow me on Twitter, you might have noticed a bunch of rapid tweets around noon on Friday about my run-in with a crazy old woman which resulted in me calling the cops.

The story really began around 11am, as I was walking my Mom out to her car, which was parked in a guest parking space behind the building. My Mom and I were discussing our weekend plans and decided to walk to the front of the building to take a look at one of our fruit trees which is starting to bloom. (Yay, Spring!) We were taking pictures of the flowering tree while chatting.

As we were standing in front of the building, we saw an old Asian woman pushing a shopping cart full of plastic bottles down the sidewalk. She was clearly looking for stuff to recycle. Fridays are garbage days in the neighborhood, so our trash and recycle bins were lined up on the street in the front of the building, just like everyone else’s. But she didn’t look in anyone’s garbage bins on our block and instead pushed her cart directly to our property and up our driveway.

My Mom saw this and looked at me with the “Who is this?” expression and I shrugged. Mom started following the old woman up our driveway calling out “Where are you going?” in Mandarin. (Note: Chinese will be in italics)

The woman either didn’t hear, didn’t understand, or chose to ignore my Mom because she kept pushing her cart up the driveway toward the area where we usually keep the trash bins.

My Mom chased after and got a little closer and a little louder. I followed her but kept my mouth shut. This time the woman definitely heard Mom and turned around, waving her arms, babbling unintelligibly and pointing toward some (empty) trash bins in back. I didn’t understand what she was saying– it sounded like Chinese but I figured her accent was hard for me to decipher. But from the body language and the context of the whole scenario, we both knew what was she was trying to tell us– she wanted to go through the trash.

My Mom said, “The trash is all outside in front; those bins are empty. There is nothing there.”

The woman seemed to understand for a moment, but then decided to keep going.

Mom repeated very nicely, “There is nothing there. You can go somewhere else now.” But then the woman started waving her arms at us like “Go away” or “Leave me alone” while babbling at us unintelligibly. Then my Mom said, “I don’t understand you!” and turned to me to say that the woman was from China and she wasn’t speaking any of the dialects my Mom knew.

The woman took this opportunity to begin emptying her cart of plastic bottles, bags and other miscellaneous items on to the driveway, so my Mom started to get upset. Even if the woman was going to try to take trash out of our bins, there was no reason for her to throw her stuff all over the place and make a mess in the middle of our driveway.

That’s when things began to escalate. Mom starts repeating herself “Move your stuff, I am trying to leave and I need to drive here,” while gesturing to her car and pointing down the driveway.

I understood enough of what was coming out of her mouth that she was saying “don’t bother me” or “don’t tell me what to do.” The old woman was still babbling loudly but now clearly, “I am not in the way! Drive around!” and stopped making a mess long enough to shake her head and gesture “Go around.”

My Mom kept saying “I can’t drive around. There is only one driveway, please pick up your things and move your cart.” My Mom was starting to raise her voice, but she was still being overly polite and trying to reason with a crazy woman.

But the woman started getting louder and meaner at my Mom, acting like she could tell us what to do on our own property. She was trying to shoo US away! She kept pointing at my Mom’s car and and gesturing like Mom should somehow be able to shrink the car to fit down the driveway even though a crazy woman, her shopping cart, and a bunch of garbage was all in the way.

My Mom was going to be late to her appointment to meet her sister, so I told her to get in the car and I tried my luck with the old woman. As my Mom was getting in the car, I just nicely (but firmly) repeated everything Mom had already said. If the woman wasn’t going to pay attention to my Mom, she certainly wasn’t going to listen to me.

She ignored what I was saying and headed toward our neighbor’s garbage area and picked up some glass beer bottles that were sitting in a small box. She set down the glass bottles in the driveway to get in my face and scream at me in Chinese. She seemed really mad that I was in her business. She had her recycling now, but I couldn’t figure out why she had to make a mess everywhere.

I was getting really pissed because my Mom had backed out of the parking spot and waiting for the driveway to clear and I was getting screamed at by a mean old Chinese woman who was trespassing on my property and making a fucking mess with her garbage all over my driveway.

The whole time this was going on the woman was yelling and screaming and not listening even though she could understand us, so I just started screaming back at her in Chinese. “GO AWAY! MOVE YOUR STUFF! LEAVE NOW! DON’T COME BACK!” I pointed down the driveway.

Well the woman understood enough to start screaming back at me very clearly, “YOU LEAVE! I AM NOT LEAVING!” and she started pointing at me and pointing down the driveway.

I screamed at her, “I LIVE HERE! YOU DO NOT! GO AWAY! I WILL CALL THE POLICE IF YOU DON’T LEAVE RIGHT NOW!”

She kept screaming “YOU LEAVE! YOU LEAVE! YOU LEAVE!” and she kept pointing at me to go down the driveway.

My Mom was in the car and started honking her horn. She rolled down the window and screamed, “GET OUT OF THE WAY!”

I stood my ground and put my hands on my hips. “I AM TELLING YOU ONCE MORE! LEAVE!” The woman took a step toward me and put her hands on HER hips, mocking me and giving me a defiant look. “I AM NOT LEAVING! YOU LEAVE!” she screamed at me. My Mom kept honking her horn and screaming from the car, “GET YOUR STUFF OUT OF THE WAY! GET OUT OF HERE!”

Behind her, I saw a (non-Asian) neighbor walking on his driveway two doors down. He was watching us as he was walking to his front door, shaking his head, but staring intently at the commotion.

My Mom kept honking her horn. And I screamed again, “LEAVE RIGHT NOW OR I WILL CALL THE POLICE!”

She looked at me and scoffed as if to say that she didn’t believe I would and she started heading back toward her shopping cart. She reached in and pulled out the broomstick she uses to poke around in the trash and she held it high above her head and screamed, “I WILL HIT YOU!”

I screamed back at her “GO AHEAD AND HIT ME!”

My Mom saw the woman wielding the broomstick and started honking some more. If don’t know how it’s possible, but I think she got that car horn to honk even louder.

“I WILL HIT YOU! AND I WILL NOT LEAVE!” screamed the woman as she started to swing the broomstick at me. I stood my ground.

Mom’s hands were down on the horn.

“GO AHEAD!” I yelled. “HIT ME SO THE COPS WILL THROW YOU IN JAIL FOR THAT WHEN THEY GET HERE. YOU BETTER LEAVE NOW BECAUSE I AM CALLING!”

I picked up my cell phone and started dialing. She realized that I was serious because she stopped swinging the broomstick and put it back into her cart.

I called GOOG-411 because I wanted her to hear exactly who I was getting connected to. I got through to the police department and asked the dispatcher to send a car to my property because a trespasser was on site, threatening to hit me with a broomstick, and refusing to leave.

The woman was screaming insults at me in Chinese but realized I wasn’t bluffing and was really calling the cops. Mom had stopped honking when the broomstick came down and she saw me dialing my phone. I stopped giving my report to the police long enough to scream at her, “I AM ON THE PHONE WITH THE POLICE. YOU WANT TO BE HERE WHEN THEY GET HERE? TAKE YOUR THINGS AND LEAVE!” The woman started grabbing her garbage and throwing it back in her cart, all the while screaming at me in Chinese. She kept screaming at me and waved a glass bottle in my direction. I gave her a look and she dropped it while trying to throw it and it shattered all over my driveway. Her aim with the glass bottles was worse than that with her broomstick.

“PICK IT UP! DON’T LEAVE YOUR TRASH HERE!” I yelled between the English answers I was giving to the dispatcher on the phone.

I hung up with the dispatcher after a quick report and saw that she was trying to pick up the pieces of broken glass from the driveway and had cut her right thumb deeply on the glass. She was bleeding everywhere and waving her thumb at me as if I was supposed to feel sympathy for her.

“I DON’T CARE! GET YOUR STUFF OUT OF THE WAY! GO NOW! THE COPS ARE COMING! LEAVE NOW! DON’T COME BACK!”

Most of the stuff was in the cart now and the last big pieces of glass had been picked up. My Mom inched down the driveway in her car, herding us out toward the street.

The woman was trying to hold her bleeding thumb and push the cart out at the same time. She continued screaming at me and only stopped when she put her thumb in her mouth to suck away the blood.

“GO AWAY AND DO NOT COME BACK HERE!” I screamed at her. She kept pushing her cart down the driveway with Mom following in the car behind us. I kept screaming, “DO NOT COME BACK HERE! I WILL CALL THE COPS IF I EVER SEE YOU ON MY PROPERTY AGAIN! DO NOT TOUCH MY TRASH AGAIN! DO NOT COME HERE!”

We got to the end of the driveway and she stopped the cart to show me her thumb, which was now bright purple from the blood oozing out from the cut.

What did she expect? For me to offer her a Band-Aid?! “YOU ARE STILL IN THE WAY!” No sympathy from me. “GET OUT OF HERE! DO NOT COME HERE AGAIN!”

She finally started pushing her cart away from our driveway. She was still screaming at me, but her voice was drifting further and further away as she walked away with her cart, broomstick, plastic bottles, and shattered glass bottles. Mom pulled up and blocked her from getting back in the driveway just in case she was dumb or crazy enough to turn around.

My Mom rolled down the passenger side window. “Are you okay? She scared me when I thought she was going to hit you.” I told her I was fine and I could see a patrolcar coming down the street.

A young lady had been walking down the block and was watching the tail-end of the scene in horror. She kept walking after the crazy woman left.

The cop pulled up and rolled down his window and wanted to know where the woman was. I saw the unattended shopping cart 3 buildings down. I couldn’t see her. I guess she tried to get a bandage for her thumb. The policeman asked if I was ok and I said I was fine but that the woman wouldn’t leave until I called the cops– I was sorry to bother them about a call like this. He said that he was going to ticket her based on what I told him.

From the other direction, a second patrolcar swung by. The old woman was now back at her cart, looking in my direction. She saw the two policecars in the street and me leaning into the window of one of them. She stood there and stared at us in disbelief and panic.

My guess is that this woman goes around and takes trash out people’s bins all the time and no one ever bothers her about it. Frankly, if she had been digging through the bins in the front of the building, I would have been annoyed, but I wouldn’t have stopped her from doing it. Even though I’m sure it never happens, people can still get ticketed for going through the trash. But it’s certainly not the sort of thing I would have called the cops about. Then again, digging through the trash bins on the street is not the same as trespassing or threatening to hit someone with a broomstick. Once she was on my property, making a mess and getting belligerent with my Mom, what was I supposed to do?

Both cops pulled over with flashing lights and tried to talk to the old woman. For as little Mandarin the woman knew, I’m guessing she knew even less English. She kept waving her arms around and screaming at them. I really felt bad for the cops at that moment. Cops have to deal with the craziest things and people. My Mom left when she saw that the police were there and that everything was calming down. The neighbor who saw everything happen was now pulling out of his driveway and saw the cops on the street next door to his place. He looked over at me and waved. I ran over to his car and apologized for the ruckus and all the screaming and he said, “My mother was watching from inside and she couldn’t believe that woman tried to hit you with that big stick!” I told him I was sorry to make a commotion back there and he said, “No, it’s ok. I saw what was going on and you had no choice.” He left and I walked back in front of my building and called Yoshi. No answer.

The young woman who had walked by earlier was now coming back. I think she lives on the other end of the block. She saw the police and flashing lights and ran up to me and asked, “WHAT HAPPEN?” I started explaining in Chinese and she said, “I Vietnamese. Not Chinese. Only a little bit English.”

So tried to slow down and said the woman was throwing trash and said she was going to hit me. Her eyes widened. “Did she hit???” I said, “No, but she tried.” The woman shook her head in disbelief. I apologized to her for scaring her.

After 20 minutes, one of the cops walked up to me and asked “What do you want us to do? We can take her to jail. Is that what you want?”

For a split second, I was very tempted to say “yes.” I was still angry and the adrenaline was still flowing. But I said, “No, I just don’t want her on my property.”

He asked, “Did you tell her that?”

I said, “Yes, and then I screamed it at her when she wouldn’t leave.”

He asked me why she was bleeding and I said, “She cut her hand on broken glass after she tried to throw a beer bottle at me.”

And he said, “Ok. Well, if she comes again, we will take her to jail.”

I thanked him for his help and said that I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. I went back inside after that.

The best part of the story actually happened near the end when the old woman was already starting to leave and my Mom was inching down the driveway behind us when Mom started screaming from her car “TAKE HER PICTURE! POST IT ONLINE!” I had forgotten that my camera had been hanging from my wrist the whole time. Now that Mom understands the power of a good photo + internet (thank you, Racist Camera– the picture that keeps on giving), she wanted to publicly shame the woman, too! My Mom rules.

As great of an idea as that was, I didn’t feel like getting the woman angrier at me by trying to stick a camera in her face. I imagine she probably would have tried whack my camera with that damn broomstick if she’d seen me taking her photo. Later on, I did end up taking a few pictures (from far away) when the cops were talking to the old woman, but rather than posting those photos, I think I’ll harness the power of the intarwebs for good– instead of for public shaming.

This time, anyway.

My WordPress blog got hacked, but it’s fixed now… thanks to my cousin B!

Also, thanks to Eric Nakagawa who was my shoulder to freak out on.

Basically what happened was that I noticed that a string was appended to the URLs of my individual posts on WordPress:

eval(base64_decode($_SERVER[HTTP_REFERER]))

BAH! It breaks the links!

Anyway, it was my own bad for not being totally up to date with the latest version of WordPress. Eric listened as I freaked out about manually backing up my blog and updating to version 2.84 (since the auto-update wasn’t working for me).

Then my cousin B went into my database and cleaned out the yuck code, per the instructions I found at 4rev.net.

And then, hocus pocus, my blog was all good again! Thanks for the help, guys!

My Bro cracks me up (and grosses me out)

This was my brother’s status message:

Newly discovered superpower: Ability to make babies laugh so hard they puke.

I was curious, so I IMed him:
me: Did you make S puke?

Bro: ya he spit up on the floor

Bro: then his dogs tried to eat it =/

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Gross! That’s what brothers are for, right?

Belated but not forgotten Ba-Ba Day

Originally written 8/8/07 and accidentally posted to 8Asians:

8/8 (Eight-Eight in Mandarin is pronounced “ba-ba.” Father in Mandarin is also pronounced “ba-ba”) is Father’s Day in Taiwan. Even though we refer to him as “Dad” in English, 95% of the time, we called him “Ba-Ba.” Usually, my Dad would be in Taiwan at this time of year, so I would have to remember to call him on 8/7 so I could wish him a happy Ba-Ba Day on the right day.

Happy Ba-Ba Day, Dad.

We miss you.

Dad & Joz - 10-04-2007

I originally couldn’t remember where this picture was taken. I knew that it was taken on October 7, 2004, and thanks to my blog, I was able to go back figure out the context of this photo. I think this was taken in Rowland Heights, just before my Dad was going to get on to a shuttle bus that would have taken him to LAX to board a flight back to Taiwan.

One year ago today…

…my Grandma passed away.

She was the last of my grandparents to go and sometimes I am sad that I live in a world without my grandparents anymore.

I love her very much and am grateful that I have many memories of her as an active, beautiful woman.

One of the traditions my grandparents began was having a formal family portrait taken around their anniversary, December 26. Usually we took the pictures at home via tripod & self-timer, but the picture above is a section from our family portrait done in a professional photo studio one year. I think I’m about 4 years old in this picture and I’m in my Dad’s lap, sitting next to my Grandma & Grandpa. I still remember that night vividly. I especially remember how fascinated I was when the photographer came around with the light meter and I kept asking what he was doing with it. I can’t believe the three people in this picture with me have all passed away.

Chorus of grandmas and grandpas did a costume change!

They’re getting hoots and hollers from the audience!

Someone yelled "grandpa is so handsome!" in Taiwanese.

Hilarious.

(Lest there is any confusion… my Mom is NOT in the chorus with the grandpas and grandmas… there were actually 3 choral groups performing in one concert!)

-J
Pecked out on my iPhone. Sorry for any typos.

Judith Hill: The woman who sang “We Are The World” and “Heal the World” at the Michael Jackson Memorial

judithhillThough many of my friends were lucky enough to receive tickets for Michael Jackson’s Memorial at Staples Center, I was just grateful to have a job where I could work from home and avoid getting on any roads until it was all over. I brought my laptop into my TV room and worked with the Memorial playing in the background.

While there were many heartfelt speeches and performances, my attention was piqued three distinct times:

1) Al Sharpton mentions Asians!
Al said, “It was Michael Jackson who brought Blacks & Whites & Asians & Latinos together. It was Michael Jackson that made us sing We are the World.” Whoo! It’s not just about being black or white… there are other colors, too!

2) Asian-looking woman singing “We Are The World” and “Heal the World.”
Because the performers for “We Are the World” and “Heal the World” were not identified in the handouts at the Staples Center, a lot of people were wondering who this mystery singer was. Rolling Stone later revealed her identity as Judith Hill, a Pasadena, California-based vocalist who was to be one of the backup singers for Jackson’s This Is It! concerts at London’s O2 Arena. And, yes, it turns out this woman is indeed partly-Asian, her bio says: “Judith was born in Los Angeles and raised in a family of musicians. Her mother is an immigrant from Japan who met her father in a funk band in the 1970s.” (Check her myspace!) I thought she did an amazing job, especially considering that she and many of the other performers on stage were actually rehearsing with Michael just two weeks ago for the shows in London. This must have been a very emotional time for them, as well.

3) Paris Jackson’s heartfelt words of love for her Dad
Ok, so this one had no Asian connection, but having lost my father three years ago, I know how painful it is to lose someone you love like that. There is nothing quite like being Daddy’s Little Girl. And little Paris, who had the eyes of the world on her, was so very brave to speak from the heart in front of all those people like that.

Photo of Judith Hill from her website: http://judithhillmusic.com

Thinking of Dad… 3 years after his passing…

Today was the three year anniversary of my Dad’s death and so I tried not to let myself get down too much. I’ll admit it; I still have a lot of tough days, and I am so grateful to my family and friends for being there for me when I have them. But whoever told me that time would mend my broken heart was right. My heart will never be quite the same, but I don’t feel so brokenhearted on a daily basis. I still miss my Daddy a ton, but I’m able to get up every morning without feeling like a complete and utter wreck anymore… well, not all the time, anyway.

I don’t think I’ll ever get over losing my Dad, but I guess that’s the sort of thing some people never “get over,” and I’m ok with that. I still hurt when I see pictures from my Dad taken just days before he had his aneurysm (I can’t believe I know how to spell that now), because none of us knew what was coming and how everything was about to change. But now I can look at other pictures and really remember and the good times we had. Like in this picture below when we were at a wedding reception held on a chartered boat in Newport Harbor. The bride and groom were relatives (Dad’s side) and this picture was just me and my Dad. (Photo taken 9/14/2003) Look how much fun we’re both having. Can’t you see it in our faces? That was a great night.

Joz & her Dad

Pictures like this used to make me really sad because I’d think about all the family weddings we’d attend and how I know he was looking forward to walking me down the aisle if I ever got married. I guess it was thinking about all the things that we never will have a chance to do that has been the hardest. I thought that he was missing out on all these life events, and it’s true, he wasn’t there to physically cheer me on when I got my MBA last year. But the truth is, he WAS there with me and not just for the big “life events,” but also the really small things, too. He was always in my heart and in my mind when I was going to my classes and working on my projects and taking my tests and when I received high honors from the Dean for my grades. I feel like I now really understand how he’s always with me all the time; it’s because he’s such a huge part of who I am.

Like today when I had pizza for lunch, I thought of the time my Mom wasn’t around to make dinner so my Dad took me, my Bro and one of Bro’s friends to the local Pizza Hut for dinner one night. I think I must have been in junior high or so when this happened. I had gotten up from the table to get something and when I got back, the three of them were staring at me, waiting for me to do something. I wasn’t sure what was happening and I got really suspicious, but none of them said a peep. So I took a bite of my pizza and all three of them (my Dad included!) started giggling. I was SURE someone had done something like snot on my pizza, but my Dad said, “I wouldn’t let them do anything to your pizza.”

Only partially appeased, and trusting my Dad wouldn’t let me eat a booger pizza, I said something like, “Well, did you guys do something to something else other than my pizza?”

Dad said, authoratively, “Why would we do something like that?”

I was still suspicious, but I didn’t really know how to counter my Dad. He’s a pretty straight-forward guy when it comes to things, so I took another bite of my pizza and then my brother and his friend started busting up. I was pretty sure I had eaten noogie pizza at that point.

I threw my pizza down on the plate and spit out the bite I had eaten on to the empty spot next to that. “Bleh! What did you do to my pizza?!”

I reached over for my soda to wash out whatever disgustingness I’d just taken a bite of and took a giant swig of Dr. Pepper pepper soda. That’s right: pepper soda. There was a ton of PEPPER in my Dr. Pepper! Aaarrgh! I spit the Dr. Pepper and pepper out on top of my half-masticated pizza bite and reached for the napkins. My Dad handed me a giant stack as I started wiping my tongue off.

He was laughing maniacally, as were the two boys sitting across from me. I was ready to punch my brother.

“Bro!” I shrieked his name as loudly and shrilly as I could. “Why did you do that to my soda!?”

“Joz, I swear it wasn’t me!” said Bro.

I turned to his friend, who would about to get pounded because he was still laughing, too. “I thought you knew better than to mess with me,” I started to threaten. He was laughing, but shaking his head and pointing at my Dad. And Bro’s finger was pointed in the same direction.

There was Dad, snickering to himself at the entire scene that he’d caused. And he was totally busted by his cohorts.

Dad had pranked me! I didn’t immediately think this was very funny, so I very crossly went to get myself a new cup of soda, but when I got back my Dad (still laughing) apologized very quickly.

And then he asked me, “Did you get some more Dr. Pepper?” I looked over at him and he was holding out the almost-empty pepper shaker in my direction with a twinkle in his eyes, and the smirk of a naughty school boy plastered across his face.

I so wasn’t cross after that.

Anyway, I love you, Daddy. And miss you so much. Even the silly Dr. Pepper jokes. Or maybe especially the silly Dr. Pepper jokes.

Let me show you my pet monkey…

I actually posted this over a year ago at 8Asians, but didn’t post it on my personal blog.

So here it is again, in its original (and updated) form:

I have quite a few Taiwanese blogs showing up in my RSS reader and every so often a post will catch my eye. Over at IslaFormosa.com, there was an interesting post entitled Orangutan Alert and Other Strange House Pets

IslaFormosa teaches English in Taiwan and…

I was teaching apologies and excuses to my students. I gave an example of a lousy excuse: “I really wanted to but I had to look after my pet monkey.”

Being Canadian, I thought this was really ridiculous and far-fetched. One student looked perplexed though. I asked her what was up and she said that, in fact, her neighbor across the street actually had a monkey.

“Are you sure?”, I asked.

“Yeah, it’s orange.”

Orangutan immediately came to mind. I probed a little further but she started to become quiet after I mentioned that orangutans where banned as pets (and in Taipei city no less!!!).

The post goes on to mention that 1,000 baby orangutans were smuggled to Taiwan from Kalimantan on Borneo between 1985 and 1990 and sold as exotic pets.

The reason for this surge in orangutans as pets? A popular Taiwanese television program that featured a live orangutan as the perfect pet and companion!

Not surprisingly, smuggling and poaching was how baby orangutans got into Taiwanese homes. Also predictably, the cute and cuddly baby orangutans grow up and become not-so cute and totally unmanageable adult oranugtans. In 1990, the Taiwanese government made it illegal to have orangutans as pets, but I guess some of them are still around.

This reminds me of a story that my Mom told me about her older brother (my uncle) when they were growing up in Taipei. Mind you, this was a different time, so Taipei wasn’t as urban then as it is now, but basically, my uncle had a pet monkey (I don’t know what kind; my Mom just said it was a “猴子,” she didn’t say it was an orangutan “猩猩”). I guess my uncle LOVED this monkey and raised it from from it was baby. As it got bigger, no one could control this monkey and it would run around the house getting into everything and throwing its doody all over the place, but my uncle loved the monkey so much that he let it do whatever it wanted. And since my uncle was the oldest boy, anything he wanted went.

One day, the monkey was doing its usual uncontrollable thing and it got outside and some school kids (neighborhood kids?) were picking on the monkey… throwing rocks and stuff at it. The monkey freaked out and it tried to get away by climbing the electric pole. My uncle was yelling at the monkey to get down, but of course the monkey didn’t listen to him. It was jumping around and then swinging from place to place until it reached up and grabbed some electrical wires where it was promptly electrocuted to death and fell to ground into a lifeless pile in front of my uncle’s eyes.

My Mom said she had never seen her older brother cry over anything before and never forgot that monkey or how it died.

Anyway, I guess the point of all this is that people have different ideas about what animals are appropriate as pets. You would think in this day in age that people know that monkeys aren’t appropriate pets. But even in modern day in urbanized places like Taipei, some people still have wild boars chained up in front of their homes/stores.

What are some of the strange pets that you’ve encountered?

NOTE: My brother informs me I have some details wrong in my monkey story, so I am edited for further accuracy [via strikethrus]

Three years passes quickly…

I miss my Daddy an extra lot today.

See: How do you start a post like this?

Thinking of my Daddy

Chinese fan at the Brooklyn Museum.

Brooklyn, NY
4/25/2009

-J
Pecked out on my iPhone. Sorry for any typos.

Uploaded by !!! :: jozjozjoz :: !!! on 25 Apr 09, 12.20PM PDT.

Happy birthday, Dad. I miss you.

Dad & Joz

The above photo was taken on April 2, 2006, on my Dad’s 61st birthday.




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