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07.14.2009
“Bad Chocolate Milk"
I noticed a carton of expired chocolate milk in our work-fridge recently. Now I'm not a dairy-drinker so you can imagine my surprise when I poured it out into the sink and it was a giant, gelatinous blob. Yuck. I didn't think milk could actually do that, and change from liquid to solid form on its own? I know, colour me naive.

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07.11.2009
“I Hereby Christen You Superbad!"

I noticed something recently about my daughter and her toys. Besides the fact that she still hasn't really formed any firm attachments to her toys (not really a good or bad thing at this point - just an observation), I noticed that all her stuffed animals and other toys don't really have very unique names. For example, she has a little plush rabbit that she calls "Bunny" and her stuffed dog is called "Doggie." Then there are the well-known characters, like her Lowly the Worm doll which is called (surprise) Lowly. I think you get the idea.

Well, since I wanted to shake things up and inject some originality into her playthings, I decided to rename one of her toys. I noticed she has been pulling around her wooden whale quite a bit lately (which she calls Fishy or Whale sometimes, BTW). So I said to her, "Ooooh, I like your whale. What's his name again? I have an idea. Let's call him Superbad. His name is now Superbad."

Don't ask me where I came up with that name. Anyway, it seems to have stuck. Now I'll hear the clatter of wooden wheels on the hardwood and Sloane will say, "Come on, Superbad" as she pulls him behind her. Or the other day I was sitting on the bed and she wandered in carrying her whale. She plopped him up on the bed and said, "There you go, Superbad. You lie there." Anyway, you get the idea. I think it's the bomb, and I pat myself on the back for coming up with such a wicked name.

07.09.2009
“Have You Heard about Vibrate Mode?”

During my morning commute, I totally don’t mind people wearing headphones. I wear them too. It’s almost expected. In addition, I don’t mind if people fall asleep. In fact it can be quite amusing. Just don’t lean into me and drool on my shoulder. Gross.

However, if you’re going to fall asleep while wearing your headphones, please either mute your cell phone ring or put it on vibrate. I really don’t want to hear your Fiddy-Cent ring tone go on for what seems like eternity while you catch some zzzzzz’s (with mouth open too – that part is hilarious) and you’re oblivious to everything because your headphones are on. Clueless animals.

While I was sorting out one of the many Rubber Maid storage containers, I found my high school grad beer mug (that now resides in our kitchen cupboard – we can use another mug around the house). But I noticed 2 little things inside. As soon as I tipped over the glass and they tumbled out and I saw them in the light, I knew exactly what they were. They were 2 little miniature birds, too small to be called stuffed animals but more like trinkets. They are each about the size of your thumbnail and light as feathers. One is blue-green tones and one is yellow. The former is missing one eye-bead, and the latter has a lopsided beak. From a distance they look like 2 pathetic lint balls. In fact when I initially unpacked them, I left them on the coffee table and Robin saw them and thought to himself, “Who left garbage on the table?” But I knew why I hung on to them for all these years (even though they are in really rough shape from being manhandled by little hands for many years): they were gifts from my grandfather, a man I met but don’t really remember because he died when I was young.

For a minute I held them in the palm of my hand, just staring at them. I couldn’t believe I still had them. To be honest, I had forgotten about them for the past several years. But I was so happy to be reunited with them. So many thoughts went through my head. The first thing that sprang to mind was my grandfather. Now, I previously stated that I don’t consciously remember him and I think that’s true. But I do have one image in my head. I must have been 2 or 3 years old, and from the viewpoint on the carpet (as a little rug-rat) I can see him sitting in his easy-chair smiling down at me. He has a Buddha-smile framed by his bald head, and I think he’s wearing a turtleneck sweater, Chino-pants and slippers. He had just given me my little bird treasures and I’m looking up at him, thanking him I imagine. But here’s the thing: I don’t know if it’s a real memory, or am I just envisioning it? I mean, I’ve seen pictures of him so I know what he looks like. I don’t know if the image in my head really happened or perhaps it’s a pure fabrication of portraits that I’ve seen?

Memories may betray you, but I know what’s real: these 2 little birds in my hand. They’re tangible. They’re soft and they have weight (albeit, not a lot of weight). I can touch them and they’re mine. I’m so pleased I’ve held on to them.

Then I think about my family’s annual trek to Forest Lawn Cemetery to visit my father, grandfather, and grandmother. We were just there recently on Father’s Day and my daughter hooted and giggled as she ran around the big, grassy, open space. To her, it was just another adventure, not necessarily a potentially morbid place for dead people to rest. We got her to help us unwrap the flowers and place them at the gravestones, and she did so obediently. Then we tried to get her to show her respect and bow 3 times. But she was off and running already. Oh well. She’s still just a toddler.

To-date the closest she has come to her great-grandfather (my grandfather) was to lay some flowers at his gravesite. But now I can also show her those soft, miniature birds and she can hold them in her little hands.  In addition to the blood that courses through her tiny veins (which also comes partly from my grandfather), time and space will come together as my daughter touches something that my grandfather once touched decades ago. Past and present will meet.

And speaking of collecting and holding on to things: Janine and I recently had a conversation about what we’re going to pass on to our children. Of the items that I currently own, what will my daughter want to hang on to as a keepsake? My collection of Coach handbags? My Banana Republic suits? My funky wool hat that I bought at a craft fair on Main Street recently? I can’t imagine those things will hold any value for her. Chances are she’ll want to treasure those things that have been passed on to me from my elders (e.g. my diamond ring that I got from my grandmother). But you never know. When I’m long gone, Sloane might go through her storage locker one day and it will be filled with seemingly meaningless keepsakes (e.g. my baby pillow, my yellow lion piggy bank, etc).

And just maybe, she’ll also pack away my ratty, plush teddy bear that I received as a baby. And when she rediscovers that ancient stuffed animal, she will instinctively give it a small hug and fondly remember her mother. That’s a nice thought. But I would also hope she would keep those 2 little birds that originally came from her great-grandfather whom she never met. Those 2 lint-balls would look even more like garbage at that point, but hey – one person’s trash is another person’s treasure.

In the end I am reminded of my friend Andy’s wedding. He and his bride (she is Persian) were showered with beautiful jewelry and other blingy gifts. It all looked gorgeous and generous, but I know Andy is not materialistic at all. When it came to speech time, his aunt got to the podium and told a long, amusing tale about a wooden box that once belonged to Andy’s grandmother (she used it to hold letters and recipes). The aunt held the faded, simply-decorated box up in the air and announced that it was now being given to Andy. When it was Andy’s turn to take the microphone, he smiled and laughed as he jokingly told all of us basically, “Whatever, it’s all good. I got my treasured wooden box from my grandmother. You all can have whatever you want, but I’m content.”

As Bob Marley told us, when he saw those 3 little birds singing on his doorstep, “Don’t worry about a thing,/Cause every little thing gonna be all right.” Well, I’ve got my 2 little birds, and everything indeed is going to be all right.

And I hope Sloane treasures such items in the future. Because as I said, memories can fade and deceive, but tangible keepsakes are a real reminder of what was, what existed when we were young, what existed before us. Even though I’m not a pack-rat, I strongly believe in holding on to small items that are important. Over time they are evidence of who we are and who touched us. And  you can’t hold a memory in the palm of your hand….