Mem’ries
I’ve been listening to the Kung Fu Hustle soundtrack in the car when I drive out to my parents’ house to “work” - or, at least, I get to listen to it after MM’s “Jack’s Big Music Show” CD ends. There are a couple of pieces that have me flashing back to Chinese New Year in Hong Kong, when the English TV was scarce, the weather was cold, and my brother and I often snuggled under a quilt - gifts of gigantic Lindt hazelnut chocolate bars in hand - to watch Japanese anime dubbed into Cantonese.* The music doesn’t remind me of the shows, of course- it’s the commercials that I keep seeing in my mind. Every third commercial inevitably featured a guy decked out in full opera regalia, hands clasped together, and bowing to the tune of “kung hei fat choi.” A little like Andy here, only not so colorful, attractive, or Mandarin.
I was telling M. about this on the way to the station yesterday morning, and I reminded him - a little laterally, I guess - that there’s a Korean New Year event coming up this Saturday that we could check out. M.’s childhood memories are a little less idyllic than mine.
M: Will there be food, cards, and brawling?
Me: What??
M: When we had Korean New Year at our house, my uncles arrived, played cards for awhile, and eventually they drank too much and had to be restrained by the others.
Me: What did your mom do?
M: She just sat in the corner blowing smoke and yelling “aigu!” Oh, wait - she does that now.
It would be nice if, just once, a conversation about the good old days actually involved a good old day. It’s even worse when we talk about elementary school, since most of M.’s stories about his classmates tend to end in “he died.”**
*Hell, no, we didn’t understand a word of them. But, come on, it’s anime - what’s to understand?
**”Cripple camp” stories are even worse (his term, not mine).
