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Who Knew The Joy of My Ancestors Was Under The Shaved Ice?
Where my parents were born, it’s hot all year ‘round. You just get hot rain or hot sunshine. Maybe the occasional typhoon. Either way, they get to eat “summer” food any time of the year. They also eat dinner for breakfast pretty often, which I am still trying to convince my friends is better than breakfast for dinner. I’d choose adobo fried rice over a yogurt parfait any morning.
By Krista Guanlao Sison-Dunlavy4 years ago in Families
4 Questions You Get When Your Book Is Called “How to Deal With Asian Parents”
The title of the book assumes that it provides the reader with a clear solution to their problems. But with any self-help, personal development, or relationship advice book, the solution lies within us.
By Katharine Chan4 years ago in Families
What Summer is Supposed to Be
From as far back as I can remember, every week in the summer ended with a bbq. Neighbors would gather on their lawns, sitting on plastic striped fold-out chairs and the tailgates of trucks. Music would stream out of windows, and grills were set up on driveways. The remnants of the day's heat vanished as the sky turned orange and purple.
By Elyse Pennington4 years ago in Families
Walking Down Memory Lane
IF YOU DON’T KNOW YOUR HISTORY YOU ARE DOOMED TO REPEAT IT. This was always the phrase used when growing up around my Pop-Pop and my dad who are complete history buffs. These two men impacted my life to become the woman that I am today. As we grow older, we sometimes forget key moments of our childhood that shaped us. I want to take a walk down memory lane and explore some of these forgotten times. I am happy that memories exist because we can always go back and relive them.
By Sidney Smith (Sid Smith)4 years ago in Families
Stay With Me, Baby
My father told me a story once about his first out of body experience. He had been young, 6 or so, the age when it seems like you shouldn't remember most things. This memory, though, remained clear as ice. It was freezing in Texas, with frost dusting the packed dirt around his family's farmhouse.
By Madi Scruggs4 years ago in Families
Black dads, ice-cream, and inflation . Top Story - June 2022.
Part of baby fever is wondering which of my parents’ stories I will tell. Children are like blank palette souls waiting to be colored by their experiences, and parents are like spirit guides who give frame of reference to every new color, shape, and texture. Thinking about which narratives I will perpetuate feels like curating my future children’s library. When my son notices that his hair is short and his sister’s is long, will I tell him the story of Genesis? Shall I give him a brief introduction to gender roles? Or maybe I will immerse him in popular culture by showing him pictures in magazines that inspired his look? Will I encourage my daughter’s anthropological curiosity by delving into the history, and even the utility of long hair? Will I explain to her that vitality and fertility is signaled by long hair? Or will I let my children’s hair both grow long and free, and wait until my son comes to ask my why he is different, and then should I choose that moment to reinforce to him that he is special? I think of the many ways my dad made me feel special.
By Vineece Verdun4 years ago in Families
A Dimension Unexplainable
I remember … Morning sunlight coming through our living room windows, forest green, gold and black design curtains drawn, thin white draperies still in place to maintain privacy. Our four bedroom home is in Pennsylvania, near Pittsburgh. Mom and Dad are over by Dad’s desk in the large open living room connected to our dining room and then kitchen. Mom is standing behind him, wearing shorts and a top, her hand on his bare shoulder. Dad is sitting in his desk chair in his briefs, no shirt, bare feet. The living room is clean, lived in, comfortable. I know my niece is asleep upstairs, and Kolohe (our dog) and Ace (our cat) are probably with her. My sisters are far away, one in Hawaii with her husband and family, and the other, my niece’s mother, is currently on the west coast flying for Delta. It’s Sunday morning. I’m awake, having gone to the restroom, and for some reason I’ve popped myself out of my room to see my parents. I can’t remember why. I do remember the sureness of love. It is strong and deep.
By Craig Rose4 years ago in Families
Chapter Two
Hello everyone thanks for riding this crazy path with me. Now here we go chapter 2 with ad much background as I have we are into when life actually seemed real. My mother is still married to the evil step father at this point. Her relationship has very little legs to stand on. I’m getting ready to end elementary school so much went on at school I was bullied. I was a bully. I also was very involved in sports and activities to be away from home. That’s all the info I have again my Brian has erased so much so we’ll fast forward. My mom is divorced again for the third time. We finally get to have a relationship. See my mother always had a habit of being very involved with whoever she was with and it felt as if it wasn’t about a partner she had or my brother I was forgotten. But my brother went to college out of town and now that she’s divorced it was my chance for attention and a loving relationship. All I ever wanted. Which did start to happen and she was going on dates and what not but nothing serious until I was about 14 that’s when he came. Martin they met on farmers only which you know better than the last from Christian mingle. But here he was and here I was left to be forgotten, again. This led to my rebellion. I started acting out and trying “new things” drugs and alcohol. They’d go on so many trips for weeks and I’d be left home to fend for myself. So I did what any other teenager that was left alone would do. PARTY I drowned myself in trying to be the cool one around others. I did it out of spite because I knew if I did these things it would force my mother to pay attention to me. I quite cheering, I quite sports, I did whatever I wanted I drove her car I had people over 24/7, I gave up. I started losing respect for my mom. I met amazing friends who became family and many still are with the few I’ve lost including on of my best friends Frankie I miss you man. Just to give him some light. Frankie and I were very close I lived with him for a while and loved him like the brother I always wanted. Sadly he was taken too soon by a fake Xanax bar that was 3x the lethal dose of fentanyl. There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think about you or your intoxicating smile and laugh. Now I only ever smoked bud no other drugs. But I would buy a lot of it for friends and take it to them. I wanted to be accepted during this age I only had friends older than me wether it was 2 years or 6. I had to grow up and mature extremely fast. I definitely was heavily into smoking and became very dependent I couldn’t get through a day without waking up and smoking all day long. Now this was a crazy period of time but it leads up to a very scary time in my life where I put myself into survival mode. I met who would become my most rewarding nightmare. The boy who had my mind wrapped around his finger. Who I allowed so many horrible events to happen that would take me from my family and loose myself. This next chapter is all about it. Hang tight this is where it gets real. If you have any questions or advice please leave comments.
By BOBBI JAMES4 years ago in Families
