Umbrella Revolution Wall 2014

Umbrella Revolution Wall 2014
Admiralty, Umbrella Revolution 2014

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Julian Assange of Wikileaks

Click through and watch.

Friday, July 23, 2010

More Reading...

Finishing The Welsh Girl by Peter Ho Davies. He can really craft a sentence. It is a very good book. Interesting, am thinking of how nationalism affects Asians differently, it seems in the UK with regards to subject matter. Of course, he is half Welsh, half Chinese, raised in England. Many of his stories do not feature Asians. But then again, there seems to be more of a class marker in the UK versus one based on ethnicity as there is in the US. Delusions of the American dream and immigration have to do with this.

Read The English Patient by Ondaatje. Poetic. Beautiful. I like his writing style. Stephen has a book of his poetry and really, this writer is very lyrical. Must watch movie again, but it does not seem to really encapsulate the other story very well. Then again, maybe movie public cannot swallow still, with ease a dark skinned man making love to a white woman.

Miscegenation possibilities!

The horror, the horror...hey, and if you can name the book the two lines come from, I'll buy you a beer. Readers, speak up.

Weeding the non-existent garden to discourage snakes...saw a lizard the other day. Ahhh...Mui Wo life.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Stephen on Reuters TV!

Here's the clip:

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Putt Putt Gulf , Guns, American Socioeconomic and Racial Politics and Hong Kong's too...

Ahhh....well, how should I begin? I've been thinking about this incident and believe it deserves more examination within a fictional context, but I thought I'd write if only to mull it over more myself. It encapsulates the complications of life in the US on so many levels.

Dad, Keohi and I went putt-putt golfing in Memphis. When picking up our futon, mom and I had spotted it, and Keohi also saw the course and was excited. At age 3, large fake giraffes and astroturf are very appealing. So with Dad, we head there one early AM for a day out golfing. Now this course is located in a rather unappealing part of Memphis, depressed economically, by all appearances, behind warehouses and off a freeway. I say that as a preface--so picture a rather worn out looking place with some kiddie rides--a train, bumper cars in a swimming pool, a small train, go carts set a short walk away from an indoor building holding game rooms and a small concession area. In front, the little putt putt course--three to be exact.

We walk in to find out hooray--it's one of those lucky mid week deals where you can putt putt your lil ole heart away for X dollars, plus get popcorn and a lemonade and a card that can be swiped through the machine room games so that you can play all you want. We go out, grab several balls and three clubs, one small, kid-sized. I note that this is voted Best of Memphis for Kids entertainment. I also note a few buses pulling up--probably summer school, or church camp. Groups of black kids and then groups of white kids pile out, respectively. This is Memphis, so groups are rarely integrated, at least kids' groups. There's usually a vast majority of one or the other. This has to do with geographic locations of the families, economics, church affiliation, and the big R-race.

We start the course. Keohi enjoys this. I'm kind of bored, but hey, I'm not much of a golfer. I've done putt putt about two times in my entire life. It's okay. Actually, I'm not much of a golf fan at all. I know you supposedly get a workout swinging, but golf courses produce a lot of bad environmental run-off with all of the fertilizers and then there's the golf cart business. Stephen says that real golf was invented as a game to play while walking in the woods and it can be quite entertaining in that way. I've never done real golf. Bigger turn off was seeing the caddies in Korea in the 90s. All young females, toting around huge golf bags for these older guys. Anyway, so I'm not a big golfer, but I'm not going to discourage Keohi, so we all hit the balls. Keohi mostly likes to push the golf ball in, using it like a rake, but who cares. We also stay at hole #5 for the majority of our time because there are two holes and it catches underneath in a long tube and pops up later. By hole #7 he's lost interest entirely, Dad has tried to explain how to grip the golf club to him to no avail, and so we decide to wrap up the game. We drop our clubs off outside, no one there to take them, and head inside. We need lemonade and our free popcorn. It's hot.

We pick up our free lemonade and popcorn. The interior staff are all young white kids, late teens, maybe early 20s tops. There is one young black girl, but I think she does the clean up stuff because she is not really taking orders at the counter. Hardly anyone is around. We pick up our freebies, and grab our card, get ready to play the games. Another thing I really don't like at all are video games. OK, I enjoyed PONG. How is that for dating me? That's circa 1974, but yeah, since then I've avoided all video games. I missed the pac man, star whatever, and virtual game thing. Really, such games bore me to tears, but again, Keohi and Dad are having their day out, so why not. My dad too is hardly a video game lover, so we're basically this geeky non video family out in this arcade. We throw basketballs in the hoop. I'm kind of enjoying this, because hey, I can do this game. Kind of like when I won the two stuffed toys at the Jewish temple fundraiser in 1971 in 2nd grade. And wowee, tickets are coming out. So Dad and are doing well at this. Free tickets are coming out and Keohi is getting into throwing the ball too. We do some other kind of bowling pin game and hit some machines doing a bit of this and that, very unmemorable types of games, careful to avoid the gun games. Mostly this is because Keohi has become gun obsessed despite my vigilance in terms of his exposure to guns and I'm not interested in cultivating his passion for guns.

About gun games. Actually, I've done my share of gun experience. I'm American, after all. And I've even taken a gun safety class. Let me detail my gun experience.

1) Age 10, I took gun safety at our day camp during our school's three day camp excursion event. Mom did not like that I signed up for this. I learned how to hold a rifle (a real one) and somewhere is a slide of me grinning with a huge rifle like a soldier.

2) Flash forward some 20 years later, I think I have to learn to shoot a gun as I'm going to be auditioning for a part that calls for shooting. Never happened, but to prep, I go to a gun range with my Texas friend who has a pistol. I'm sweating hah--bullets, and wondering why the hell the rifle range has bullet holes BEHIND where I am standing on the opposite side of the rifle range, and on the damn ceiling. Rifle ranges are a great place to experience a serious wounding or death due to accidents. An elderly Vietnamese lady is shooting like mad. I don't think about this. Is this wartime flashback? Who knows. Realization here: whoever has the gun wins. I hit the outline of the man, not in the heart, but somewhere, but honestly, it's not easy and it's hard to actually press the trigger.

3) Learn to aim and shoot a toy rifle at a carnival in Seoul on an afternoon outing with a hippie and masseuse former Marine who used to deactivate bombs. We met at a rave in a basement in a Seoul nightlife district. He was a hapa from Hawaii with long hair and about as far from a military guy as you could get. When I asked how he got on the bomb squad he told me that the mellow guys do this, and they get to have longer hair too, though not as long as his--he's left the military by then. You don't learn to deactivate bombs and mines unless you pass some kind of clearance and personality test because they don't want nervous types doing that kind of work, understandably. Anyway, he shows me how to line up a rifle and shoot at the arcade. I get pretty good after two games. To this day, I could probably win a few animals.

So much for guns.

To add: I don't have a problem with people shooting duck IF THEY EAT THE DUCK or whatever meat they are eating. I do have a problem with AK47s and high school rifle teams. I'm not a big fan of guns, but I realize that some people use them to procure food in the wild.

To continue:

In the back of this arcade are serious terrible gun games. It's all about killing with submachine guns and there are various young boys and teen boys playing. Keohi gets steered away. No guns, Dad, I tell him. He agrees. Keohi wants to go. I tell him that we are not a gun family, we are a book family. This has been my mantra for the past three months. It is ineffective...

We go back to the race car games. Win more tickets. Then Dad runs to get more lemonade and popcorn. I note that at the table where we have placed our things are a pile of tickets. Hooray. We can turn these in for a stuffed toy or something plastic. I walk over, figuring Dad won these, as I've fed my 15-20 or more in. I feed in about 60 more. It's not too hard to win these at all and figure Dad was on a roll. Dad returns and I stand at the counter to turn in my tickets to see what I can get and an older white man on a cell phone yells at me. HEY THOSE ARE MY TICKETS. DID YOU TAKE THOSE FROM THE TABLE?

Rude, plain rude. Now mind you, we're the only Asians in this place and honestly, Asians are the ethnic group that often gets pushed around in the context of black and white. People tend to try to physically intimidate, perhaps because many Asians are shorter in stature. I've always found this grossly offensive. I should add that many of my family studied martial arts or kickboxing as a result. So don't try to push us around.

Anyway, he is shouting, this white man at me and Dad and Keohi is standing there. He points to his kid--black kid, doesn't appear biological so my guess is adopted? Foster? Friend? and says THESE ARE HIS FOR HIM.

I look him in the eye and say frankly, hey, they were on the table, I didn't know that they were yours, sorry about that. You can take them. I wasn't trying to STEAL THEM. Actually take ALL OF THEM (I say rudely, given his barbaric behavior I am doing the you-jerk-loser voice) even though at least 30 are mine. I repeat this. YOU CAN TAKE THEM ALL EVEN IF SOME OF THEM ARE MINE. I do not shout, but feel like shouting. I am using my annoyed teacher voice. By now the guy has caused such a scene that the white kids behind the concession stand are standing still. Because what is unfolding is a very ugly scene.

We have older Asian man with accent--my Dad. We have younger Asian woman with an American accent, clearly annoyed. Me. I'm doing the talking. We have little hapa boy sitting at the table. We have grumpy old fat white guy screaming at me and talking on the cell phone. We have disaffected 12 year old rather chunky black kid in basketball shirt holding tickets.

Older white man then says, oh, oh, then take the 30. He shouts. I give him another dirty look. He does not apologize. He does not say anything about his outburst. He turns back to his cell phone and then tries to order from the concession stand. Concession stand people have seen this and know I am furious. I take the 30, turn it in for two small plastic dinosaurs. Ignore Ugly Old White Man. Young black kid feeds the rest of the tickets into the machine. The young white kid behind the counter is embarrassed. He asks me: Do you know this guy? I say: No, not at all. Then he says: Gee, he is really rude. I say: Yeah, he really was. The kid is embarrassed for me.

I remind myself. I don't want to make a scene. I am visiting Memphis. This is a nice outing for my father, who is not completely aware of everything that is happening, and my son. Dad is like that, he's kind of wandered off, thinks the guy got worked up, but can't be bothered. Dad's approach to stuff is often like this. It's the who-can-be-bothered-with-idiots-in-life approach. Not a bad one to have, but unfortunately, I am often bothered and cannot ignore the situation.

We get more lemonade, head out to the train and airplane. Really, the outdoor grounds are rather sad and dusty looking, that carny atmosphere. We approach the airplanes. Observation: the outdoor rides in the stinking hot Memphis heat, are all manned by young black kids. White kids work inside. Black kids work outside. What's new? March over to the airplane ride. Dad asks, do our passes for the day work here? Dad has a heavy Korean accent despite having lived here since 1960. My father is wearing an aloha shirt, a cap and sandals. The two black kids look at him, then Keohi. Then one bows, puts his hands together and does that fake Bruce LEe, ah-so number that I got as a kid in Iowa, to the other kid. But guess what. The kid has no idea that I saw him do that to my father?!

OK, so we are really in messed up racial land at this point. This is Memphis though, and multicultural racial solidarity is an illusion. Make that in most parts of the US, unfortunately, but really, it's better in the US than in many parts of the world. I am FUMING HOPPING MAD. The last time this happened to me I was in elementary school, maybe in my late teens and all of a sudden every memory of my father being made fun of because of his accent, my family getting hassled in Memphis or Iowa comes flooding back. I want to SCREAM at this kid and tell him he'd better SHUT THE HELL UP. But I don't.

I don't because my 3 year old wants to ride the damn airplane. My father did not see the guy bow. Only me. So I shoot the kid a dirty looks-could-kill look. And he feels, I can tell, slightly, ever so slightly, embarrassed. I was not supposed to see this. And I speak to him. And guess what, the kid can hear: I don't have an accent. So this ride, I say, can I ride it with my son? And I am curt, but polite. After all, have to be civil, what does he know? He's 18 or so. And Keohi is dying to go on the ride. And Dad is all friendly, of course. And it is slowly making the kid feel rather, well, VERY awkward. But not too awkward because me, the Asian lady, knows what he did, and is not being super friendly, but still polite.

Keohi rides it. He's having fun. We take pictures. The kid is sitting there doing the machine and Keohi comes down. We're about to leave. We thank him for the ride. Then Keohi spots the train. He wants to ride that. So the kid is not rid of us yet! God! The torture of it all! (for him) So he lets Keohi ride around and around, my guess is a little longer than usual. He's still surly, hey, he's 18, what 18 year old isn't? But he is begrudgingly dealing with us. And then, Keohi gets off and Dad, dear old Dad with the Korean accent and aloha shirt and sandals asks the guy to take a picture with Keohi. Keohi, says Dad. Take a picture with the man who gave you a ride. Stand there. Stand there. So someplace we have this photo--Keohi and this young man--not smiling, but not frowning, if anything, projecting a reluctant embarrassment. Dad thanks the guy again sincerely. I thank him. We walk away. Dad goes in for more lemonade. The counter kids give us free lemonade. They say it is because we haven't stayed long. I know it is also because they remember that old man yelling at us.

I get home and tell mom about our Asian experience--yep, got it from white and black...remembering how people in Memphis malls used to think my mother was a potential shoplifter or something in the 80s when she'd go around in the malls and all of the headaches she had when moving to Memphis. And she says, smiling, well, what do you expect, look where it's located?

End of conversation.

But for anyone who thinks that this is only in America, or only in the South, that's not true either. Here in HK, mom and I once watched as they seated every white face in the restaurant before us, despite our having turned up before. And the host and owner were Chinese. On top of that, I had gone to that restaurant with my white husband Stephen once a week if not twice, at lunch for nearly 4 months! They just didn't know who I was without him--or should I say the host that day didn't know. And then they gave us the lousy table and put the whites in front. Hello, Rosa Parks! I finally SCREAMED in the restaurant: YOU ARE SITTING US IN THE BACK BECAUSE WE ARE ASIAN AND YOU ARE SITTING THEM IN THE FRONT BECAUSE THEY ARE WHITE. SERVE US. THIS IS RACIST. The restaurant and myself ended up having a kind of peace brokered through a friend here, and the workers told me, the owner called a meeting with the staff as a result of what happened (yeah, a woman screaming that with perfect American English during dinner rush is not the best way to get repeat customers). Mom was so mad. She said, that would never happen in the US. It would, but it's illegal there, and really, it's barely illegal here. It's true, Asians are very, let's say...FREE with the bigotry...

So where does this leave me? Hmmmm....well, this kind of thing happens everywhere. I think that kid will be thinking about us for a long long time, trying to figure it out at least. A good learning experience for him, hopefully. It was a very complex situation, so many layers. That old man, he'll never get it. I think his awareness of race probably just covers the black-white spectrum. He's a goner. The white counter kids got something from it. As for the restaurant here in HK? Who knows. I went back twice, I think, with friends initiating the visit. I'm not around much in that area. Yeah, HK still has vestiges of colonialism. You get more than one group in any area, more than one type of person, and this is what happens anywhere in the world.

Ugly, but true...

Thursday, July 15, 2010

graphic novels and books

Read Shortcomings by Adrian Tomine and loved it. A graphic novel. Very American and accurate portrayal of interethnic dynamics within the Asian population. Very rarely do I say I know these people in the book, but yeah, I know these people...

Finished The Calcutta Chromosome by Ghosh. Felt there should have been more with the wrap up, but it was still a page turner. Big departure for him, but will have to read more of his books to confirm. I've read three.

Saw all the rellies last night for dinner. Nothing like dinner at the Chinn's. Stephen used to call it his favorite restaurant of the Bay Area. Veggies from the garden made in all kinds of delicious fresh salads and basic grilling of chicken and flank steak, strawberries and white pound cake with cream whipped seconds before consumption. The Chinn's know how to eat and host. Thought of how we lived in the Bay, Stephen fishing here for us and eating huge crab from fresh water...always better to eat fish from colder water. Food is integral to our family gatherings. We eat and remember past meals and dishes.

Gave cousin Annette a photo of her and my sister Kath I took in 1974 or 1975, probably with my Mickey Mouse camera. Time passes. We're all in our late 30s and 40s, yet the kids table is still set up, and all the cousins will go on a rafting trip down the American River in a few weekends. We grew up together, on and off during holidays and summers. Strong ties.

Beautiful perfect weather. Flowers everywhere. Roses in front of the window. I take Keohi to a park in front of a small lake with weeping willows and Canadian geese. Stars visible at night.

This is California.

Monday, July 12, 2010


OK. I finished the book The Favorites by Mary Yukari Waters. I was not entirely clear or correct about my previous assessment. The problems with the book are primarily structural in that it should be constructed as a short story, novella at its longest, and is dragged out to a novel.
So it feels forced.
Nothing more tiresome than forced art. I have heard the short fiction she writes is very good and I can believe it. But not my cup of tea entirely.

Speaking of short stories. Am I the only writer or reader who thinks that Amy Hempel is a terrible author? She's so tiresome and boring. I think of her work and am reminded of The Emperor's New Clothes. She's conned thousands into thinking she's actually interesting. Hadn't thought of her in a while but there you go.

ALSO Lydia Davis. Another boring writer. Help.

Started The Calcutta Chromosome by Ghosh. Thinking of his literary trajectory. I enjoy the diversity of his writing.

Keohi told me tonight that he would stay here with Grandpa and I would go back to Mui Wo. Hard to beat ice cream and an adult who lets you watch TV. So I've been thrown over. Dad has been saying that he could stay in Memphis and eat all the ice cream and have all the toys he wants. Keohi's been pondering this. I can tell when he listens to Dad propose this. Silence. He's thinking about it.

He ate mashed potatoes tonight. So happy. That was a favorite food of mine as a kid, too. And here I am so many years later, mostly having my son eat brown rice.
Dad said, we would take you guys to these buffets, and all you would want to eat was mashed potatoes. I also remember dying for canned peaches. Mom would say, don't you want a real peach and I'd say, no, I want a canned one. This is around the time when I told her that I wanted to live in a trailer instead of a house, that she didn't understand that I would never be popular if I lived in a house. Everyone who was anyone lived in a trailer. Such is life on the edge of North Liberty, Iowa. I would then follow this up with asking her why she didn't wear hair rollers to the supermarket like everyone else, or an apron, and why, oh why we did not have red velvet flocked wallpaper or a red light bulb in our house, like my friend Angie's mom who lived in the trailer, smoked cigarettes, and had a red light bulb and hair rollers. Very glamorous, I thought. Mom, I thought, just didn't get it. We would never fit in! Ever.

Fitting in is a big theme in American life because popularity is so prized, well, maybe that's like everywhere in the world. The more I live in different places, however, the more I realize, one really can never quite fit in in any place if one is completely sentient, but I can live with that...Mui Wo, I suppose, is no exception.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Keohi and the pool, books

Keohi backfloats, dogpaddles, jumps off the side, and flips from front to back...amazing. Thanks to Laura Lee the fantastic Memphis swim teacher. Shows what good instruction can do. Hope we can continue the swimming when he gets back to Mui Wo, but here the pool is shallow and so he can touch the ground, feel secure when trying out new things. And it's salt water...not so bad when you swallow the water. I became interested in athletic skills more as an adult, always enjoyed neighborhood games, but at school was the last picked for any team, hated athletic competitions, felt pressured by the need to demonstrate physical feats. So it's funny, but I realize my son's life will be shaped by the fact that he is naturally athletic. This has very little to do with my genetics (although my dad said that my grandpa was a fast runner...he was...he was only 5'2" but still a fast runner--but dad was never ever an athlete...:), Keohi's proclivity, his interest and his abilities physically is due to his father's genes. I would even go so far as to say I loathed what athletics did to people and social structures so much I was anti-athletics for a good part of my young life...and here I am faced with a son who loves every minute of doing anything physical. I like it. It seems fitting with how life works.

Summer is about to end--well, Memphis summer. Boxes ready to be shipped. 70 or so. Mostly papers, books, childhood stuff, toys, odds and ends. More stuff in storage in LA, but it will have to come box by box to Mui Wo.

REad some books--Mistress of Spices by Chitra Divarakuni (pass on this. earnest, very good use of language, but predictable...just so...well okay, I will say it, a bad take on Esquivel's book and no match)

The Piano Teacher by Janice Lee. This is set in HK. This has its moments, a page turner. Not so literary in one sense, and there are huge gaping holes in the plot, but oddly enough, you don't seem to mind while you are reading. Only afterwards. Then you realize, wait, what happened? How? Explain?

Finishing The Favorites by Mary Yukari Waters. More like an extended short story but must finish. There is discussion of women and Japanese customs. It's terrible, there is no reason to compare it, it's different time periods, and one is Japanese, and one is American but gee, there is Junichiro Tanizaki, and then there is Mary Yukari Waters and god, they are just not in the same damn league and if you're going to read anything about Japan just read Tanizaki's amazing book The Makioka Sisters. LOVED THAT BOOK. That's up there with Austen, is. Waters, I suppose is more coming of age, and then about Japanese Americans than really about Japan.

Read American Son. Depressing. Good. Why it bothered me he didn't spell one street name right in LA I don't know. But it threw the entire book and authenticity into question then for me, as a former Los Angeleno.

Goodbye Memphis...

if I can do it, I will blog about my experience putt putt golfing here. It somehow encapsulates all of the racial complications of southern living as an Asian and just how locked and complicated and difficult life can be for all participants, Asian, black, or white due to history, society and economics, but that will be for later.

Hope to eat another doughnut before going...

Wednesday, July 7, 2010


I cannot get enough of the clouds--this is what I miss most about American life, I realize. Clouds. Clear blue skies with billowing white puffs that recede into the far distance. Clouds for painting. Clouds for pictures. Clouds in full view without the shadow of pollution.

In Seoul, it's the same. Haze and gray. And all over Asia, they blame it on China. As if China, Mainland is responsible for it all: the diesel on the streets of Hong Kong, the parking lot traffic of Seoul, the hot air expelled by the air conditioning units that drone on, relentlessly night and day.

A week more of clouds then it's back to the gray haze, the green bog, and the bellow of the frogs.

Keohi's American Joys

1. Red jello--made in the same glass rectangular dish that I ate jello out of as a kid...
2. Ice cream everywhere and everyday--soft or gourmet, vanilla and chocolate, in a dish at grandparents, etc...
3. Swimming pool next door. Empty. Shallow parts to be an alligator in. Salt water.
4. TV and the Cartoon Network. He still hasn't figured out TV commercials. So we say, oh the show is over...just wait til we get back to Mui Wo. No TV there!
5. Big red fire engines and police cars--that make loud sounds.
6. Trains barreling down a train track--real trains that resemble his toy train.
7. Green grass with no snakes and plenty of shaded areas.
8. Small wheezing Pomeranian to chase around the house.
9. Animals. Squirrels. A possum. A duck trailed by ducklings waddling down the street.
10. Lots of good sticks to find in and out of the house.
11. Cheerios every morning.
12. A local doughnut shop.

He saw a picture of the Statue of Liberty and pretends to hold up the torch and a book. As far as I can see, freedom and shelter is sugar, television, and new toys.
Very appropriate and adult.
Keohi, my half-American son. Age 3. Summer in the Memphis suburbs...paradise...

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Back in the USA

This is how I know I'm back in the States--I'm cruising down the road in Mom's big ole white SUV (the half electric version--it saves gas, but probably costs the same amount as a small house) and turning the dials listening to the radio. Bruce Springsteen comes on. There are flags everywhere--July 4th weekend is upon us. The US has wars on two fronts going on, the recruiter storefront is here in Collierville, and it doesn't seem like the best time to join the military, but that doesn't matter. People are splashing in the subdivision saltwater pool. Lawns are manicured. Service is impeccable. Even at the chain stores. I'm driving and heading back to my parents semi-gated community where they are renting a house for a year, having sold theirs finally, downsizing to 4000 square feet. Houses are big. Cars are big and shiny. Churches are on every corner. Acres of green farmland give way to strip malls...this is Memphis, Tennessee. Tennessee is now the 2nd fattest state in the US behind Mississippi. It's the 9th poorest state in the USA too. Many people here are big. Very big. We're talking about 40% overweight. Here I am lamenting my tight wedding band and my gain of 5 pounds post Keohi that I am going to have to beat off with a damn fire poker. But I realize that at the Cracker Barrel restaurant, I'm one of 5 people in the entire restaurant who has a relatively normal body weight. And I'm not talking about the people who are 10-20% overweight types--they're the other four people!

I just finished a bite at Cracker Barrel restaurant with my Dad's cousin, my old Pa Sa Ryu master Kang Rhee. Kang Rhee is still drinking tea (tons of lemon and honey) and is a very methodical and routine oriented individual. He sits on one of two sections in the same restaurant, knows the waitresses, orders the same thing year after year. This is one way of approaching the tao and is one way of living the rhythm of life. He's still doing his martial arts--extremely fit. I studied under him for some time many years ago and credit him for being instrumental in changing my life at crucial point in time. I was surrounded by serious practitioners of the subject, people's whose lives were just about Pa Sa Ryu. For a brief period of time, that was me too. Martial arts can save your life, in more than one way. He seemed pleased when I told him that Keohi would study Kung Fu in Hong Kong when he gets a bit older. He said to start around age 6, you can start earlier, but you don't get it. Kang Rhee was one of the first people to bring martial arts to the US from Korea--he taught Elvis Presley and was on the circuit with Bruce Lee, demonstrating in Madison Square Garden. Sometimes I think about him when I see the people practicing in the village the dancing, drumming, and kung-fu.

Keohi experienced his first hot fudge sundae. His first two hot fudge sundaes. We get caught in traffic. Takes forever to get home, and there was traffic going too. If we lived here, he'd spend half his life in a car. Yuck. Me too.

Done packing. That's it. I refuse to move for 5 years at least...Now it's just the 4 bag allowance to HK. I still have two more weeks back in the US.

I ate the most amazing fried chicken in Collierville at Gus's. I highly recommend it. Spicy. Delicious. HMMMMMM.....

Happy 4th of July! Getting ready for the godfather Andrew to descend!