One thing about authors is, we have to do more than sequester ourselves at the computer and write. Unless we're so well known we have our own PR department we have to market our work. So, to start off the new year, I've reproduced a chapter in "Good Fortune" devoted entirely to the Chinese New Year's ever dinner followed by 10 days of celebration. I hope you'll find it so interesting you'll want to read more. Both Amazon and Smashwords.com have additional free online samples.
I invite you to visit my Facebook fan page, click “Like” and
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For those of you who prefer to support your local independent bookstores, ask them to order "Good Fortune." Additionally, libraries throughout Pierce County and King County, Washington carry it which means regardless of whatever city and state you live, your local library can obtain copies for you and your book club. Just let them know it's already been cataloged into the library system.
If you want more information about purchasing copies, email me: lesliebratspis@yahoo.com
Happy New Year with blessings and good fortune to all!
Leslie
40
JANUARY 31, 1995
YEAR OF THE BOAR
Since it was traditional to start the Chinese
New Year with a smart new outfit, weeks before she began cleaning house in
preparation of the guests who would be coming to celebrate New Year's Eve
dinner, Anna shopped for her family. As hosts, it was important her family be
well-dressed for the holiday. She chose garments of bright red with accents of
gold; red to ensure good luck and gold for prosperity, the two most important
elements for the upcoming year.
From the neighborhood tailor, she purchased a
finely sewn red rayon shirt for Wu with his initials monogrammed on the pocket
in gold thread. For Tong, she bought a red Chinese shirt with accents of gold running
through the pattern of cranes—associated with longevity, health, happiness,
wisdom and good luck—soaring above trees and waterfalls. At Macy’s she bought
matching red shirts for the boys and small black leather belts with shiny gold
buckles. For herself, she found a red Ann Taylor suit to wear with her finest
gold earrings and bracelet.
Anna hummed as she mopped the kitchen floor,
smiling and remembering how she used to hate housework. Now, she took enjoyment
from keeping the house clean for her family. Her change in attitude began when
she was sixteen. Like most teenage girls, she had a rebellious streak; both her
mother and fate would rid her of it.
“No! I won't do it!” Anna yelled at her
mother. “That's just a dumb superstition someone taught you when you were my
age, and I'm going to prove it by leaving my room exactly the way it is.”
Anna's mother pressed her lips together with
frustration.
“At sixteen you are so sure you know
everything. I warn you, Anna, if you don’t clean the mess in your room before
the New Year, it will affect your whole life.”
“Do you hear how stupid you sound, Mom?” Anna
shook her head with disgust and flopped down on her bed.
“You will have only yourself to blame when
your life becomes total chaos,” her mother warned one last time, then slammed
the door in anger because Anna put a pillow over her head to drown out the
sound of her mother’s nagging.
Anna soon wished she had heeded her mother's
ominous prediction, because the next year was the worst year of her life. It
started when she came down with a bad case of German measles. After that, she
and her best friend began to argue unceasingly. She received a “C” in geometry
that ruined her straight “A” average and, as if that weren’t enough, her once regular
menstrual cycle became erratic and painful.
After that ill-fated year, Anna always made
certain to straighten her room well before the year's end. When she married,
she continued the ritual by thoroughly cleaning the entire house from top to
bottom, careful not to use a broom three days from New Year’s—a broom sweeps
away good luck.
A week ago, Anna invited Aunt Ying and her
daughter-in-law, Sue, to Yum Cha
(drink tea) so they could discuss the menu and food preparation for the lavish
feast. The ladies sat at the kitchen table enjoying cups of Oolong and Jasmine
tea, eating sponge cake, sesame cookies and red bean cake.
As usual, Ying complimented Anna while
finding fault with Sue.
“Anna, you are a wonderful hostess. Last year
Cho raved for days about your delicious cooking. You must teach Sue all your
secrets so one day she will be as skilled as you in the kitchen.” Ying sipped
her tea and took a delicate bite of sponge cake. When she chewed, her nose
twitched.
“What do you mean? I like Sue’s cooking.”
“Ha! Her food is always too salty because she
doesn’t pay attention to what I show her. What do I know? I’m only her
mother-in-law. Perhaps she will listen to you.”
When she heard her mother-in-law criticize
her cooking, Sue wanted to lash out, but Anna stepped in and smoothed things
over in a tactful way.
“Of course, Aunt Ying, I'll be glad to show
Sue whatever I can, but everyone knows no one can make noodles as you do. Will
you be bringing your special dish again this year?”
Aunt Ying's mood softened. “Of course, I’ll
be glad to. Would you like my recipe?”
Anna smiled. “Thank you, but I already have
it.”
“Oh? I don't remember giving it to you. What
is wrong with my memory?”
“Nothing. Sue gave it to me last year. Did
you know she memorized it down to the smallest detail?”
Ying looked at her daughter-in-law with
surprise. It was no secret to the Chow family that the two women didn't get
along, and everyone knew Sue was getting desperate to move out of her in-laws'
house before her baby arrived.
Sue seized the moment and mustered her
courage. “As long as we’ll be getting everything ready for dinner, shall we
prepare breakfast for New Year's morning, too? We can prepare most of it in
advance.”
“At times you are a smart girl,” Ying said
with a double-edged compliment. “When I was a girl we only cooked meals the day
they were served. All the ingredients had to be fresh. But now everything has
to be fast, and old traditions are replaced by what is most practical.”
What Ying said was true. The practice of
long-established customs became blurred and lost with fast-changing modern
times. Added to that was the fact that back in the old days in China,
traditions had varied from village to village, even within the same region. The
result was that now almost anything was acceptable. For the sake of
convenience, the Chow women wanted to get an early start by preparing whatever
they could beforehand.
Three days after that conversation, Aunt Ying
and Sue came back to help Anna polish all her silver serving pieces. They
worked wearing rubber gloves to protect their hands. The women rubbed
vigorously with soft cloths until the silver sparkled and gleamed like mirrors,
and they could see themselves reflected in the shiny bowls and serving trays.
Sue was expecting the birth of her first
child in mid-April. While she polished, she and Anna talked about the baby.
“A child born in the Year of the Boar will
have the outstanding qualities of honesty, patience and courage,” Anna said.
Sue gazed at her stomach and spoke with love.
“He will also be blessed with the characteristics of thoughtfulness and a
generous heart.”
Ying listened to their remarks with her sharp
ear, and although she was thrilled at the approaching birth of her first
grandchild, naturally she would never tempt bad luck by verbalizing her
feelings. Instead, she complained in a loud voice to Sue, hoping to trick any
evil spirits who might be lurking close by.
“You foolish, unlucky girl! Did you not check
the calendar before you got pregnant with my son’s child? Alan will be shamed
when your baby is born ugly, stupid, and worthless.”
At once Anna and Sue realized they had been
careless and hastily agreed with Ying. With voices united, the women bemoaned
the sorry shame to have such bad luck while inwardly, their hearts sang with
joy. In silence, they contemplated the approaching birth, and all good things the
Year of the Boar might bring to the Chow family.
The day after polishing silver, Anna sorted
through Wu’s and the boys’ clothes, and rearranged their closets. Then she
tackled her own wardrobe, straightening her purses and shoes, and getting rid
of what she no longer wanted. When that was done, she sifted through her
clothes. With a final tug at an out-of-style blouse, she removed it and tossed
it on the pile on the floor that consisted of her unwanted garments, and Wu’s
and the boys’ castoffs.
Unlike the days of her ancestors when the
wealthy lords bequeathed their clothes to poor farmers who wore their discards
with the hope that some of the lord's wealth might rub off on them, no one she
knew would consider accepting any of their used clothing. In fact, her own
childhood had been surrounded by superstition and the belief that wearing apparel
from another person (with the occasional exception of an immediate family
member) would be like wearing another's essence. Just the thought of it gave
Anna goose bumps as she tied the handles of the trash bags bulging with unwanted
clothes.
Glad to be done with the closets, she hauled
the bags and extra hangers off to the laundry room so Wu could take them to the
Salvation Army. Anna wondered where all the extra hangers came from, as she
tied them into bundles with string. She was meticulous about everything, yet
each year when she cleaned out the closets, hangers appeared from nowhere, like
a new crop of corn to be harvested.
The last day before the holiday, Anna was
ready to attack the final chore of dusting and waxing the living room and
dining room furniture. She enjoyed that, and always saved this task for last.
The doorbell rang as she was almost finished.
Anna opened the door for Sue, straining under
the weight of the full bags of groceries she carried with both arms, her purse
slung over her right shoulder, and the unborn child growing inside her womb.
“Sit down and take off your shoes. I'll put
these away,” Anna said, reaching for the groceries. “You poor thing, you need
to rest.”
Sue sat down, kicked off her shoes and slid
her swollen feet into the slippers she’d brought with her. She watched as Anna
placed the groceries on the kitchen table and then methodically began putting
the perishables away in the refrigerator. Next, Anna took a collection of
stainless steel pots of different sizes out of the cupboard. She filled some of
them with water for soaking nests, then Sue got up and the two women began
preparation of the yin wor jon (bird's nest soup).
They dropped fresh slices of ginger and dried
turnip balls into simmering water. Then they added chicken backs and necks to
make a rich chicken stock. This had to simmer uncovered for an hour, giving
them time for the next project of unfolding the newly-ironed linens and placing
them on the tables so they could begin setting out the dozens of ornate plates
and bowls for the guests. As they worked, the women chatted.
“I love the fact that during the holidays our
households assemble to celebrate. I want the boys to feel as connected to their
elder relatives as they do to their cousins,” Anna said.
“Father Cho, Uncle Tong, and Feng are our
three most respected elders. Father Cho remembers a lot from his childhood
days, but he usually won't talk about it unless we're all assembled at a family
function. He has a lot of bad memories about the old country.”
“Tong is the opposite,” said Anna. “He overlooks
that and enjoys telling tales to his sons about old family customs, just as his
grandfather shared stories with him when he was small. I hope the boys can
retain at least some of what he tells them when they're older so they can pass
them along to their own sons someday.”
Smoothing out a crease in the tablecloth, Sue made a
confession. “I admire you, Anna. Don't you ever tire of caring for Tong?
Sometimes I wish Alan and I could get away from Cho and Ying for five minutes. We have no privacy
at all. I'd love to have a house all to ourselves, but every time I mention it
to Alan, he puts me off by saying that as soon as we can afford to move out we
will. I'm beginning to think he's making excuses and doesn't have the slightest
intention of getting us into our own place.”
Anna walked around the table to comfort Sue.
“I know it's hard, but you must have patience and faith that he will keep his
word. After all, you two are still practically newlyweds and are already
expecting a baby. Perhaps Alan feels you're not yet financially prepared to be
out on your own.”
Sue plunked down a bowl with exasperation and
waved her arms in the air. “I can't stand living with my in-laws another
minute. Ying is impossible. Nothing I do pleases her. My food is too salty or
the soup is too cold, or the way I iron Alan's shirt isn’t perfect enough. She
finds fault with everything I do and is always complaining about something I
did wrong. What about you? Don't you mind having Tong under foot all the time?”
“No, I don't think of him that way.” Anna
adjusted the bowl Sue had carelessly placed. “Although I clearly remember
feeling that I had no privacy when I was still a new bride, even though he was
always so kind to me. Tong keeps so much to himself nowadays that I hardly even
know he's around. But the boys are like two puppies following him everywhere.
They absolutely adore him and won't give him a moment's rest when he walks
through the front door. He thrives on their affection.”
Anna's voice became wistful. “In all honesty,
though, I admit sometimes I get fed up with living in a house full of men. Just
between us, I hope to be blessed with another baby next year, and I pray for it
to be a girl this time.” She picked up her tea cup. “That's why I'm drinking
this raspberry tea. I'm trying for happiness in me.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Sue hugged her and
gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then she searched Anna’s eyes. “What does Wu say
about you wanting a daughter?”
“Well, you know, he's always wanted more
sons, but I told him I'd love to have a girl to keep me company and he was okay
with that. Of course, another son would be fine with me. If we're lucky, the
Year of the Boar will prove to be a fruitful year for us in many ways.”
They laughed, and Anna was thankful to have
such a close friend to confide in. She was overjoyed when Alan—Wu’s cousin born
to Ying shortly after the Chow family immigrated to San Francisco—married Sue.
From the start, Anna viewed Sue as more than just a cousin by marriage; she
loved her as though she were her sister, the younger sister she never had but
always longed for when she was growing up.
Anna and Wu didn’t have any siblings, yet
each wished they had. In her case, her mother was unable to conceive again
after she gave birth to her, and Mei-li died within months after coming to the
United States. By circumstance, she and Wu each remained the only child and
understood the loneliness the other felt while growing up. Alan and Sue became
the closest thing to having a brother and sister.
“Did you remember to buy the gold
paper-wrapped candy for Tuesday morning?” Sue asked.
“Yes, I bought enough candy and dried fruit
for both of us to put out for company, and I also got plenty of tangerines with
bright green leaves and stems. Oh my, I almost forgot to boil the water for the
hung cha (red tea) eggs. I'd better do that right now.”
“Hmmm, raspberry tea and hung cha
eggs, two symbols of fertility. You'll have happiness in you in no time,” Sue
said, with a mischievous smile.
While
the women were busy in the kitchen, Sue’s remark about caring for Tong made
Anna consider why her father-in-law never remarried. When she was in junior
high school, her affluent neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Hung, lived a few doors down
the street in a large house. When Mr. Hung died unexpectedly, leaving his
young, naive and unassertive wife a widow with three small children to raise
alone, Mrs. Hung never remarried. Anna, a sensitive girl on the brink of
womanhood, felt sad that pretty Mrs. Hung remained a widow, especially when a
few years later, Mr. Yee, the grocer, showed interest in her. As Anna recalled,
Mrs. Hung discouraged his advances, and before long Mr. Yee took the hint and
stopped trying to court her.
When Anna was older and began to baby-sit for
Mrs. Hung, they would frequently sit and talk woman to woman. One day she
confided in Anna. “I will never remarry because when I die I will be reunited
with Mr. Hung. He is waiting for me in heaven.” Another time she spoke to her
about Mr. Yee. “It would have been too much trouble if I had married Mr. Yee.
My husband’s jealous ghost would have haunted me day and night and scared our
children, too.” Mrs. Hung never remarried; she stoically endured her loneliness
rather than seek happiness with a new husband.
In a similar way, Tong chose to stay widowed,
remaining forever faithful to his beloved Mei-li. He never spoke of his grief,
but Anna sensed it. She loved the old man, and was glad he lived with them.
By Monday night the activity in Chinatown
reached a high level of excitement and like all traditional holidays, families
everywhere gathered to enjoy the festivities; out-of-town relatives traveled
great distances to celebrate with their relations, and those without family
were invited to share the Monday night feast with close friends. The Chow Lee
Tong household was bustling with the noise of three generations and many
friends, all talking and laughing at once.
While the men were seated in the den
reviewing the Super Bowl play-by-play from the video they’d taped of the game last
December, Anna found herself worrying about table space. She had hosted many family
banquets and knew to rent extra tables and chairs in order to seat all her
guests. But with the crowd tonight, it seemed impossible there would be enough
chairs to go around.
Wu saw her fretting and came up behind her.
He placed both hands on her shoulders and lightly massaged them in an attempt
to reassure her.
“Relax Anna, I watched you count the seating
arrangements three times before you ordered the tables, so stop worrying.
Everyone is going to have a place to sit.”
“But your family keeps growing by leaps and
bounds. I remember our first party where we only needed one extra table. With
the crowd here tonight there's not an extra inch of room.”
“It will all work out, you'll see.” The
doorbell rang and Wu rushed away to answer it. “Gong hey fat choy!” he
called out as he opened the door.
“Gong hey fat choy!” was the hearty
response from Uncle Cho and Aunt Ying as they exchanged the traditional
greeting of congratulations and wishes for happiness and prosperity in the New
Year.
“Where is my daughter-in-law?” Ying inquired in
a sharp voice as she scanned the room with hawk eyes. She reeked of too much
perfume, which detracted from her new red dress and expensive gold accessories.
“Sue told me she was coming over early to help out, and then she left in such a
hurry I couldn’t catch her. That girl is always rushing away from me. She
should have waited for me like a respectful daughter.”
As she complained, Ying held up a huge bowl
of faht choy (seaweed hair), a fine-stranded dark hair-like seaweed
thought to bring wealth to those who ate it. At the New Year's Eve dinner, it
was considered good luck to eat food that sounded similar to the words for
gold, money or prosperity. Faht choy sounded almost identical to fat
choy, the latter part of the greeting exchanged between Wu and Uncle Cho,
which literally translated, meant “prosperity.”
“If you take that into the kitchen, you'll
find Anna and Sue putting on the finishing touches of a feast fit for a king.
I'm sure they’ll both be delighted to have your help, Auntie.” Wu bent over and
kissed Ying on her heavily rouged cheek. Then he left her to greet more
arriving guests.
The sound of lively conversation and the
laughter of children filled the house, while the mouth-watering aromas of
cooking food wafted from the busy kitchen. While they waited for dinner to be
served, guests nibbled from bowls of toasted almonds, salted peanuts,
watermelon seeds and fresh fruit. Sweet-smelling tangerines with stems and
leaves left intact for good luck were set out on all the tables.
When the appetizers were brought out and the
last person seated, Wu and Anna took their positions in what were considered
the lowliest seats; their backs faced the door. In the place of honor directly
across from them sat Tong.
The banquet began with appetizers of slivered
cucumber and chicken, preserved eggs, smoked fish and vegetable relish, all
beautifully arranged and accompanied by warm rice wine. The paramount course of
prestigious bird's nest soup was served next, followed by an entree of ginger-seasoned
stir-fried vegetables. Since meat dishes represented wealth, shrimp, pork,
chicken and roast duck, each prepared in a different mouthwatering sauce, were
consumed with small quantities of rice. The final course consisted of steamed
dumpling and long-life noodles. Then tea was served with a special dessert of
eight-treasure pudding consisting of red bean paste, rice, fruit, and nuts.
Although a cornucopia of food was offered,
the guests politely helped themselves to only small portions at a time because
to do otherwise would have been looked upon as greedy. No one would consider
taking the most tender or delicate morsel for themselves.
For this purpose, Anna had placed an extra
long pair of chopsticks at each table so that if one desired, a table mate
could honor another by picking up a delicate morsel and place it on their plate
as a gesture of affection.
When everyone grabbed their chopsticks and commenced
eating, the conversation died down and the room became quiet as family and
guests concentrated on the meal. Talking while eating is considered very
impolite. Therefore, it is better to exhibit good manners and converse later
without the chance of accidentally spitting out or dropping the food from one's
mouth; that would be rude and embarrassing.
While her friends and family feasted, Anna
noticed how her guests, all dressed in their new finery, exuded a happy and
positive attitude. She loved this holiday because it was full of auspicious
thoughts and gestures.
As each person finished and had politely
consumed every grain of rice, they indicated they were through by placing their
chopsticks across the top of their rice bowl.
The dishes were cleared away and a tray presented
with small, steaming hot towels dipped in fragrant boiling water, wrung out,
and rolled. The towels were used to wipe hands and faces.
All the dishes were cooked to perfection, but
when Anna received compliments on the savory feast, she modestly protested she
wasn’t a good cook and it was only because of Sue and Aunt Ying’s help that
everything turned out so well. All three women were praised for their culinary
skill and, despite their protests, they beamed with happiness their efforts
were appreciated.
Now came the best part of the evening for the children,
who grew excited and animated as they waited for the traditional lai see (red envelope) to be distributed
with the lucky money inside.
At the appropriate time, the elders slipped the red
envelopes out of their pockets, and the children flocked to their grandparents
and others to receive their lai see, which they would spend over the
ensuing days.
After several minutes of boisterous merriment, Wu stood
up and rapped on the edge of his glass with a spoon to get everyone's
attention. Once the room quieted down, he began his speech.
“Dear family and honored guests, thank you
for coming to our New Year's Eve dinner. As you can see by the number of
children in attendance tonight, our family is flourishing.”
Wu glanced at Sue and several other expectant
mothers and joked. “There are even a few children joining us on this
all-important evening who are yet to be born.” The group received this comment
with goodhearted humor. Wu continued. “I hope all of you will join me in
encouraging my father, Uncle Cho, and our dear friend, Feng, to share some
stories with us so that we and the children can learn more about our family and
our heritage.”
“Yes! Tell us.” Voices young and old called
out.
“Father, will you do us the honor and begin?”
Wu asked, as he took his seat.
“Very well, as you wish.”
A hush settled over the room as mothers sat their
toddlers on their laps. Older brothers and sisters kept the other youngsters
quiet so Tong could address the gathering.
“Tonight we are assembled to celebrate the
coming New Year, the Year of the Boar, which has always been one of our most
fortuitous years.
“As you know, the boar is a symbol of wealth
and family. Since wealth usually involves a certain amount of counting, whether
it is in blessings or money, tonight I have chosen to speak about the Chinese
system of numbers and our lunar calendar.
“Children are taught to count by using their
fingers. However, before there were numbers as we know them today, in a distant
time past, three thousand years ago, our ancient ancestors drew lines and
symbols to keep track of the days.”
A baby's cry interrupted Tong's speech, and
he waited patiently while the mother quieted her infant before he went on.
“A thousand years later our people discovered
a way to keep track of the months by watching the changing face of the moon.”
“What about the animal faces, Grandfather?
Where did they come from? Was there a giant zoo in the sky?” Dennis wanted to
know.
“Ho! A very good question, my little scholar.
During the great Han dynasty, each year was matched with an animal name. How
many of them can you identify for me?”
Dennis stuck a finger in his mouth and sucked
on it while he thought about the answer. “Um . . . I know . . . there's a
monkey . . . and a dog . . . and . . . and . . . and a pig.”
“Excellent. I will write out the names of all
twelve animals for you. Can you draw a picture for me of each animal next to
his name?”
“Don't forget me, Grandfather. I want to draw
pictures for you, too,” William chimed in, jumping up and down, which excited
the rest of his young cousins who all began to jump and cheer at the same time.
Tong chuckled. “Very well, all of you can
learn together. I will give the list to your father. He will make copies at
work so you and your cousins can each have one.”
As always, Wu was amazed by his father's
broad scope of knowledge and his inspiration for teaching children. “I'd be
glad to, Father. How did you learn so much about our calendar?”
“Grandfather passed on all his knowledge to
me because he knew I would travel far from home and most likely never return.
He made certain to teach me Chinese history so I wouldn’t grow up in a far off
place and forget my heritage.”
His father's words made Wu wish he had spent
more time learning from him instead of being so single-minded about business.
With the approaching New Year, he made a firm resolution to make the time to
listen to his seemingly endless store of knowledge, learning what he could
while he still had the opportunity to do so. This was a sobering thought to
have on New Year's Eve, and he quickly dismissed it, but not without resolving
to act upon it.
Uncle Cho spoke up next. “Well then, I have
something to share. Would anyone like to hear?”
Encouraged by the group’s cheers, Cho looked
around the room, grabbed his full stomach and assumed a teasing voice. “I could
not help but notice that all of you ate your fair share of noodles tonight.”
“They were delicious,” a voice called out.
“Wonderful!”
A small utterance came from one of the
youngsters. “I love noodles.”
“Very well.” Cho began to articulate in a
sing-song voice perfect for telling stories, replete with nuances and colorful
descriptions. “Tonight I am going to tell you about the Shuikou noodles that
come from the beautiful Shuikou region, where the Chang and the Daning rivers
meet. This basin is full of tiny black birds with beautiful red feathered
tails. The birds fly within a gorge carpeted with yellow wildflowers. Five
hundred years ago, the people of this region made thin round noodles out of
wheat flour and limestone spring water. Rumor has it these noodles were so
delicious that after one of the Ming emperors first tasted them, he demanded
his tribute from the Shuikou region be paid from then on in nothing else but
bundles of noodles.”
“Uncle Cho, why didn't you tell me that story
when I was your Little Tadpole? I remember every story you ever told me, and
that wasn’t one of them,” Wu said.
“Because I didn’t know it until today. Not to
be outdone tonight by my older scholarly brother, I searched through my books
for an interesting story that would have something to do with food in honor of
tonight's feast.”
“Ho! Very wise of you indeed,” chortled Tong.
“Just like the old days; still trying to keep up with me.” Then he turned to
his beloved aged companion seated beside him. “Now we await Feng to tell us
something of interest. What about it, old friend? Is there something you want
to share?”
Feng slowly ground out his after-dinner
cigarette and nodded his head, smiling with the sly look of someone who
concealed a wonderful secret. “You probably expected me to come here on this
all-important night unprepared, but your clever son alerted me to have a story
ready, and his warning gave me plenty of time to plan ahead.”
Such an unexpected action on the part of Wu
made Tong and Cho view him with renewed respect and pride. Apparently, Wu had
invested some serious thought into the after-dinner storytelling portion of the
evening that began a few years back and had since evolved into a Chow family tradition.
Secretly, Tong believed it was the influence of the book of fortunes, whether
or not Wu was aware of its effect on him.
“Please begin, Feng,” prompted Wu. “All of us
are eager to hear what you have prepared to tell us.”
Feng felt the eyes of the guests in the room
upon him and, although he was unable to make out the details of any but the
closest faces, he knew these people well and felt comfortable addressing them.
“I spent many years of my life as a keeper of
books. What some of you may not know is that in my youth I was also an
accomplished calligrapher. I was tutored by a great scholar who taught me the
art of calligraphy while also instructing me in its history.”
Only Tong knew about this area of Feng's
education and he listened intently, wondering what he was going to say next.
“In ancient China the art of calligraphy was
held in the highest esteem by the whole population, educated and illiterate,
rich and poor. Calligraphy soared to a stature above all other forms of art
because it had the most profound spiritual value attached to it. Over hundreds
of years, various scripts evolved. To the student, it is easy to recognize and
differentiate, for example, between Kaiti, Caoshu, Shaoer, Lishu, Weibi, and Xiaozhuan. These
different styles represent not only the distinct stages in the evolution of our
written language but serve as a record to preserve our past. A fact all you
young people should take pride in is that your Chinese ancestors invented paper
eleven centuries before the western world.”
Feng folded his hands in his lap, which
indicated he had concluded.
“Cool, we're pretty smart,” an impressed
teenager said, breaking the thoughtful silence, and was joined by his friends
and cousins who agreed with him.
“That
was quite interesting and informative, Feng. Thank you.” Anna patted his arm with
affection. “I think I speak for all of us when I say learning about our past is
a wonderful way to spend the eve before the New Year. I was inspired by Tong,
who is going to make a list of all twelve animals for our little ones. I would
like to request that our storytellers also write what they shared with us this
night so Wu can get copies of those printed as well for whomever is
interested.”
“An excellent idea,” Tong agreed.
“Thank you, Father. There are many important
stories from our past that ought to be preserved for our children and
grandchildren. Who knows? Perhaps someday they will all sit gathered around
their own tables as we are tonight and will be able to tell these interesting
historical tales to their own children.”
Anna's last statement was received by the
group with such enthusiasm Wu couldn’t contain his delight. His obvious pride
made her blush. Tong was convinced the book of fortunes must have also
influenced Anna, because now she wanted to begin her own book for the Chow
family to hand down to future generations.
At long last he felt the inward peace he had
yearned for and was certain Grandfather's presence was in the room with them,
guiding them, and rejoicing with them.
The morning of New Year's Day dawned in
beauty with the theme of the day centered around sweets, to ensure the
sweetness for the rest of the year. Everywhere, people spoke only in happy and
positive words, omitting anything unpleasant such as grief or illness. The use
of sharp utensils, such as scissors and knives, was avoided if at all possible.
Aromatic floral arrangements sat on tables
alongside bowls of fruit and hung cha eggs, whose cracked shells resembled
small spherical mosaics. There were also bowls of candies, many of them wrapped
in gold foil to look like coins.
Guests were served a light breakfast of
steamed sponge cake with sweet sauce and tea. Lunch consisted of vegetable
dishes and meatless leftovers. Although not all households followed this
tradition, the Chows reserved the eating of meat dishes until dinnertime,
reasoning that the animals had been killed, and the early part of the day
remained devoted entirely to nonviolent, sweet and peaceful things.
In days of old, farmers toiled and saved their money all
year for the New Year's Eve feast. This enabled them to serve the best foods,
which they hoped would increase their chances for a future of continued wealth
and prosperity. In the present day, the Chow households had been blessed with
abundance and all lived comfortably without knowing the hardships of their
ancestors. In each house, bowls and dishes were filled to overflowing with
treats for the many guests who came by to pay their respects on the first day
of the New Year.
Some elders, however, clung to the old customs and only
visited relatives. They waited until the second day to visit friends because of
belief in an old superstition. If they went to the house of a friend who had
bad luck that day, for the rest of the year they would be blamed for causing
it. Rather than take such an unpleasant risk, they postponed their visits.
For ten days the streets of Chinatown were
transformed into a street fair of continuous joyous celebration. Noisy and
colorful parades took place with music, drums, and many-legged dragons dancing
like giant caterpillars. The popping sound of firecrackers could be heard
everywhere; the air became filled with acrid clouds of smoke. Lively young
children ran between the crowds gathered on the sidewalk and eagerly spent
their lucky lai see money in the shops. Throughout the extended
celebration, friends continued to visit one another and distribute more red
envelopes to the little ones. It was a happy time.
While all this took place, Wu and Anna began
their historical book and gathered stories from friends and relatives who came
to visit. At night, however, once they were in bed, they put all that behind
them since they were earnestly preoccupied with another important project that
required all their attention. The Year of the Boar was pregnant with future possibilities.
