Wu Feng Road

Heading Home

2012-01-30T20:40:00.000-08:00

Gong....Gong.....Gong....Ah Song had been planting rice all day. The Pong Yang temple bells began to ring just a few minutes before six. All the farmers of the Mae Sa Valley understood that this low metal vibration, echoing through the fields, meant work for the day was done. If the exhausted laborers gathered their tools and headed home when the last bell sounded, they would reach home before dark.

For Ah Song, her work would not be done. There were still children to tend and men to feed once she trudged up to her mountain top home.

~Painting and posting from Mae Rim, Chiang Mai
Where I have been watching Ah Song from my veranda for several years.

林嘉生

2012-01-23T05:03:00.000-08:00

Lin Chia Shen and Lin Yu Shen left their home in Chung King by train, traveling overland to the big city of Shanghai. There, they were to board a boat to KeeLung, a small harbor on the northern tip of Formosa. They had never met their large extended family in Taiwan and their father had not been home since he was a youngster. Now that the war was over, they could at long last go to meet their long separated family.

But on the way, their mother fell ill and died. Mr. Lin decided to continue the journey home to Wu Fung in central Taiwan. The journey, once started as a joyful reunion, now became a trip of necessity. He needed a haven, a home to raise his two grief stricken sons. There, he knew they would all be loved and well taken care of.

Once inside the courtyards of the Lin family home, two year old Yu Shen refused to eat. He cried for his Mama. It was only his brother who could get him to eat, and only if he fed him himself. Yu Shen would also wake in the middle of the night, calling for his mother and that is when Granny Lin began leaving a light burning in the boy’s room while they slept so that Chia Sheg could comfort his little brother in the middle of the night.

When Chia Shen passed away at the age of 71, he still slept with the light on.

Together At Last

2012-01-01T10:54:00.000-08:00

Shaista Tayabali and I met in Kuala Lumpur. I met her adorably lovable parents and one newly wedded brother and sister- in- law too. Wonderful! Now, suddenly, after a full night of talking, I can't find any words.

Well, maybe these words...

"A red thread connects your heart to mine. We are together at last."

~Jeanne-ming
Kuala Lumpur
Jan 1, 2012

Ah Gwai's Love Birds

2011-12-30T06:20:00.000-08:00

On December 14^th Ah Gwai’s father passed away while running around a public track. In a single day, the young 23 year old Special Education Major, learned that not only had she just lost her beloved father, but that another family with aunts and uncles and a half brother and sister existed; a huge extended family existed right under her nose, hidden from her.

Still, Ah Gwai knew only love. In her short sheltered life, all she had known was love. And that was enough.

~True Story

Dear Friends,

I have not posted since Mrs. Ma’s House Boy, another painting done for love. It has been a long autumn and winter for me. I have been on the road, working, since September 5^th. I am STILL out and about.

The story above is true. My partner, friend, and big brother, Lin Chia Shen, keeled over while jogging in Zhong Shan, China while training for a Rugby Referee Training Session. He was 70. He was crazy for Rugby. He was minutes away from the door of our factory, the one that makes all of my Bunnies By The Bay goods.

I had just left him days before, heading for Thailand to be reunited with my family. He bugged me everyday I was gone, checking to see if I had cleaned the house, put on my make up, applied cream. He was always concerned about the details and always said to me...."love is in the details." Three short days later I was called back to Zhong Shan with unbelievable and still numbing news. http://www.irb.com/newsmedia/mediazone/pressrelease/newsid=2060902.html
I am heart broken.

Yet, there is much to be joyful and grateful for. Ah Gwai, will forever be in my life. She is brave and strong. We sat up late every night in the week afterwards comparing stories about her unusual dad.

She was witness to an extraordinary love between her parents.

I return to China on the second of January to help out at the factory until Chinese New Year.

But before I go, I am heading to Kuala Lumpur to spend New Years with my daughter and to finally meet, face to face, the talented poet, Shaista of Lupus In Flight, my adopted sister/daughter who I and many of you who visit Wu Fung Road know is extremely special. That we are both passing through Malaysia at the same time is a "red thread experience".

I am worn out and tired. In my tears and grief I called out for help. It came, a brief but cheery email announcing plans to be in Malaysia! When your call for help is answered it is always a pleasant surprise. A visit with Shaista is just the medicine for me.

Mrs. Ma's Houseboy

2011-10-27T03:37:00.000-07:00

Ma Tai Tai's houseboy was very clever,
but it was clear to everyone, except Mrs. Ma,
that her kitchen cleaner was capable of so much more.

~for Ranjan

Shiao Jen Decides

2011-10-18T21:02:00.000-07:00

Little Jen visited her NiNi, a days journey by foot from home. Her granny kept chickens and lived alone. On the morning Shiao Jen was to return home, she thought long and hard and decided to stay and live with Granny until time to go to high school.

~these days I am in Chiang Mai, Thailand trying to relax and paint. It is raining hard here in Mae Rim. I have been traveling all over Asia since the beginning of September for work, and I am not done. I return to Japan next week. Hopefully I will get back to my mountain top retreat soon to finish what I have started.

2011-09-18T04:00:00.000-07:00

Ah Hwa’s Helping Hand

Ah Hwa had a bad time. She had endured a period of several years where she had dropped out of school in order to help her family on the farm. She had nearly given up on any kind of future when news came of a scholarship. “I will miss you little ducklings.”

Ben and Leigh, my children.

~posting from Sydney Australia

Shaken

2011-08-10T10:10:00.000-07:00

Following the great Chayi earthquake of 1963, the Chen family arrived on Wu Fung Road to help with the rebuilding of Uncle Tu’ s house which had been shaken and tossed like tiles on a mahjong table.
Mr. Chen was an expert in tile work. This migrant family were in for many surprises when they took up residence in a small store room at the back of Uncle’s ancestral courtyards while they repaired the roof. None of Uncle Tu’s unusual habits delighted them as much as the daily release of Exceeding Joy, a much beloved and love sick song bird.

Lyrics To Fly By

2011-07-22T13:06:00.000-07:00

No one knew, except for her close neighbor Mrs. Hao, that Miss T’ang wrote poetry deep into the night. Mrs. Hao could hear the faintest musical murmur drifting to her open window. She would stand straining to hear the beautifully crafted phrases and her heart soared each and every time she heard her young neighbor reading her poetry aloud to herself.

Frequentl, Hao Tai Tai stole across the alley bearing a pot of Jasmine tea. “Dear friend,” she would whisper, as she let herself in to T’ang Shiao Jye’s study, “would you mind to read me that last poem again; the one about flying free?”

For Shaista~ a poet who makes my heart soar.
Fly to her poetry here Lupus In Flight

A Cure

2011-07-13T14:18:00.000-07:00

When An Ni Da Jie saw the return of her flock before the sun had set, she wondered, “Wa! I wonder if anything is wrong? I hope my chickens are not sick!"

She took this same care with her garden. If any vegetable looked unhealthy or if any her her livestock seemed faint, she administered a handy cure.

A Red Lantern

2011-06-27T17:29:00.000-07:00

Miss Wu thought it lucky that her master’s home had not flooded during the great Typhoon Gloria. There were many small inconveniences that she dared not to complain of in light of the many neighbors who suffered from leaky roofs, drenched courtyards and saturated fields. In her case, her employer’s home was plunged into darkness when the electricity failed. It seemed a small matter to everyone but to Shaio Wu who had to make her nightly rounds to prepare the bedrooms with a single lantern. As quickly as it takes a mighty wind to pass overhead, her master discovered that his heart was flooded with a new raging passion for Miss Wu.

Brother and Sister

2011-06-16T07:28:00.000-07:00

Jia Li was twelve years older than her little brother. They adored each other and were a great comfort to their Mother.

~My son graduated from high school this past week and his sister Leigh was home to celebrate. All is well in my household when she comes home.

Reconsidering

2011-05-23T21:38:00.000-07:00

Third Brother had a terrible arguement with his older brother over feeding Granny's chickens. Afterwards, he considered running away from home.

But the smell of Granny's dumplings made him reconsider.

A Quick Peck

2011-05-09T17:23:00.000-07:00

Little Li felt sorry that as soon as he had gobbled down his last bite of rice, his granny's old song bird showed up hungry.

A Sweet Thought

2011-04-28T14:38:00.000-07:00

On his way to the Double Lucky Candy Store, Di Di came across Granny Huang’s chicks far from home. Little Brother wondered if escorting them safely back to his grandmother’s courtyard would soften her heart towards him and make her feel inclined to give him some more pocket money. Lately his orneriness had hardened her heart and Di Di thought this helpful sweet gesture might make her feelings toward him melt .

Monks in the Sun

2011-04-15T11:06:00.000-07:00

This post, as well as the last one, Sister's in Law are not new work. Before I came to the US to live some 15 years ago, I lived in Thailand. I never go anywhere, even now, without my little traveling studio-essential supplies for capturing what I see. I started this when I lived in Chiang Mai because I couldn't walk five feet and not see something I felt desperate to paint. I would set up my portable studio at a tea stall on the side of the road and paint whatever passed my view.

I had a boy friend in my Taiwanese youth who broke up with me and became a monk. So the sight of young monks anywhere in Asia fills me with odd feelings. I could not resist these young novices when they passed by. . And I wondered what lovers they were forsaking.

The Painting below-Sisters In Law, was painted when I was 16 living in the Pescadore Islands, part of a Taiwanese archipelago where I worked one summer in a clinic treating Leprosy. After a long day carrying boxes of meds to outlying villages on remote islands, I painted these two ladies waiting for the daily ferry that would take us all back to the main town of Ma Kung.

Sisters In Law

2011-04-01T07:09:00.000-07:00

Li Mama and Mrs. Wu were sister's in law. They were also best friends and shared many secrets. Both often confided to other relatives and friends that had they not had each other when first marrying onto their new families, they would have died of broken hearts.

~heading home

On The Threshold of Something New

2011-03-17T13:36:00.000-07:00

Mei En

Beautiful Grace sat in the doorway of the Door of Hope Girl’s Home waiting for something to happen. She had made a careful list of all the wonderful small blessings that might follow her to this threshold. By night fall, when she was called to come in for dinner, Mei En was convinced that none of her dreams would hatch, at least not tonight. But tomorrow was a new day.

~This weekend I fly back to Asia. I was suppose to be in Japan all of next week, but regretfully have been asked by my friends in Tokyo to stay away; for now. So I will fly over them and continue on to Taipei, then HongKong and finally to Shanghai where I will be once again be surrounded by family. I have a new nephew, Thomas Cattell born during my last trip and a new niece, Mei En who just celebrated her first birthday. I will introduce you all to her later.

Ah Bei's Little Sister

2011-03-06T19:01:00.000-08:00

Ah Bei had a problem. He loved his little sister very much. They were very similar in all the ways that counted. They shared all their secrets. They both loved birds, brush painting, and high mountain tea. They look at everything between people and situations with the same point of view. But what he couldn’t overlook any longer was the staggering amount of money his little sister owed him.
“Wah!” the old man thought to himself, “She has wiped me out.”

2011-03-04T20:20:00.000-08:00

For several months it has been almost impossible for me to get into my studio and work. I have been traveling and working, so there has been hardly a moment for myself. But tonight, I couldn’t help but throw myself against my boards, plaster and tools. I sought refuge in my studio. This painting, started and carved tonight is for my friends.

Friends I have never met but whom I love.

Shaista, my brave little sister who battles Lupus. I listened to her on the radio tonight and can’t stop crying. Her voice is so beautiful . She is as articulate in sound as her poetry. Thinking about her has unleashed a torrent of emotion.

Maia, the passionate mother of Qui Qui and artist extraordinaire whose art and dolls sit on my window sill. Qui, about to undergo medical tests…... I hold my breath. Not for Q, but Maia
.

Yoli-my steady friend, protector, and treasure hunter. She constantly offers words of encouragement and just when I think I am alone, she reminds me I am not. She is mother to three beautiful warriors. The header of my blog is Yoli and her babies.

Shokoofeh -the young, talented and the totally FREE spirit living in Iran..I lay awake in bed and worry about her every night. There is nothing Simple about her.

Alliot, the brilliant designer and photographer who is mother to the talented Iza living in Hong Kong. Alliot's journal of her daughter remind me how quickly my own grew up. Her writings of the competitive nature of being Chinese brings me to my knees. I always feel Alliot and Iza's heart beat when I pass through their airport and lanes. ….so close, yet we haven’t seen each other...yet.

These women, unseen, are my friends and I would sacrifice much if they asked me to. Tonight I started this painting, two women sitting together chatting as friends. Sharing secrets.

For all of you dear girls, tonight I am yours and you are here with me.

Thank you

A Great Leap Forward

2011-02-12T22:34:00.000-08:00

Miss Bao wore her red envelope slippers the night she returned home for New Years. She had been on a long and fruitful trip. "Maybe," she thought, "This will be the year of my Great Leap Forward."

Ten Thousand Lamps

2011-01-18T09:35:00.000-08:00

There had been little that Wan Liao’s mother had given the boy from the day he had been born. He had no talents that anyone would notice. He seemed to have no physical attributes that would set him apart. He was not all that clever either. His mother took all her desperate dreams for a better life out on the boy, for when she had a chance to join the Hsin Chu Opera Troupe, she vanished without notice when he was five.

But there was one thing she did for her son; one gift she gave him that he was forever grateful for; his name. Ten Thousand Lamps is a splendid name for a boy who would eventually become a monk. When he arrived at the temple atop Chi Shan Yuan for his induction, the Abbot read Wan Liao’s name aloud and then paused to look over the lad closely.

“Ten Thousand Lamps,” he said with conviction, “You will shed light on challenging questions and illuminate the path ahead for many pilgrims. I believe you will live up to your name.”

What I have Been Waiting For

2011-01-08T23:42:00.000-08:00

This is what I have been waiting for. The birth of my nephew, the son of my youngest brother

Timothy and his wife Mariko.

Painting Names

2011-01-03T01:33:00.000-08:00

Da Jie knew that any day now, her mother would give birth to a baby and this was a thought that filled her with Exceeding Joy. To have a sibling, fourteen years younger and most assuredly a girl, would be the one movement in the universe that would finally put right all that had so far gone wrong in Big Sister’s short teen life.

She practiced writing her soon to arrive little sister’s name every night. She used reams of paper perfecting the the way the letters would lay above and below the line. With each stroke her bond to this baby became as close as ink stained on paper.

Da Jie is now an old woman and the hoped for baby sister turned out to be a boy. But this brother became like a son to her. She would later say that his birth saved her life. After he was born, she had purpose and a place to go. She carried him around on her hip until he could run and he slept tucked under her arm until she went to university.

“So it is fitting”,Big Sister thought to herself, “That tonight I am again practicing calligraphy, trying out names that have yet to be spoken for a boy yet to be born.”

This boy is the son of Da Jie’s little brother. He will arrive in the world at any hour now and she will never be the same. He, like his sister, will bring exceeding joy to their old Gu Ma. The name she practiced over and over was Exceeding Heaven.

~I am waiting in Shang Hai for news from Hong Kong and will fly with my reams of paper as soon as I am called. The Vegetable Cleaning Brush purchased in Hang Zhou on New Year's eve, worked perfectly. A new modern kind of calligraphy!

In Search of a Paint Brush

2010-12-30T17:35:00.000-08:00

Mrs. Hau was in Hang Zhou desperately trying to buy a paint brush. It was late and New Year’s eve, and most of the cities traditional shops seemed to be closed. She walked endlessly looking for a simple Wen Ju Dian selling school supplies.

Exhausted with throbbing legs and an aching back, the visiting Mrs. Hau stopped at the New Goods Shop near the famous Western Lake district to inquire one last time if anyone knew of an open stationary store. The shop keeper was in the back eating dinner with her parents and two little dogs, but she jumped up wiping her mouth on her sleeve and cheerfully came out to assist this strange customer who clearly was not going to buy vegetables this late at night.

“No, I don’t think there are any shops that sell stationary supplies or things like that nearby.” She answered after a thoughtful pause. “What do you need exactly?”

“I need a brush to paint with.” Mrs. Hau sighed.

“Mmm, I am sorry I don’t sell supplies like that but if you give me a minute and I will find something for you that may help.”

She rustled about and came back with a brush for cleaning vegetables and Mrs. Hau instantly liked the look of it. It was well made with a handsome wooden handle and a leather cord to hang it. It had hard straight golden hog hair bristles. It was a quality vegetable cleaning brush the likes of which Mrs. Hau had never seen before. It would not work for painting any great works of art, but for touching up a spot of paint here and there it could work just fine.

“It's beautiful. I'll take it". Mrs. Hau declared as she picked out half a Yuan from her coin purse. "What’s your name?”

“Yo Jen, and yours?”

“You are very pretty Yo Jen and speak excellent English.” Mrs. Hau told her truthfully. “And you have been so friendly and helpful. This brush will work splendidly. Thank you.”

“Mei wen ti. Please come again. You are always welcome in my New Goods Shop. I like to stock things for my customers that are high quality but handmade,” She said pointing to the artfully arranged vegetables, cutlery and rice bowls. Mrs. Hau admired all the little treasures within, then clutching her brush, she stepped out to the street zipping up her coat against the wind which had suddenly come up off the lake. She looked back one more time at New Goods Shop of the Westlake District in Hang Zhou to make sure she would remember how to get back to it someday.

“Hau Tai Tai! Yo Jen called out as her customer was about to step into a taxi. “I forgot to wish you a Happy New Year!”

“And may you have a Happy New Year too!” Mrs. Hau chirped back.

~And so, in case you haven’t guessed, I am posting from Hang Zhou, here to set up the very first store for Bunnies By The Bay in China. The brush will work perfectly to touch up the knicks and dings sustained on our first day of business.

Jeanne-ming

Dim Sum and Tea

2010-12-23T11:24:00.000-08:00

"A lot can change in an evening", thought Miss Han as she looked over at her lover. In one long dinner she had laid out on the table all her thoughts, desires, hopes and dreams, like hot steamy baskets of assorted dim sum to be sampled. Her parents carefully tasted each juicy offering from her heart and offered advice and comments over each dumpling. In some cases the wrapper was too hard, and with some too soft, but always the filling was mouth-watering delicious.

But it was when her lover finally joined them that the meal suddenly turned spicy. Despite all her fears and doubts, everyone could see how Miss Han glowed when her lover took his seat at her family's table and when he too bravely offered all his thoughts, desires, hopes and dreams in front of her parents as if laying out an assortment of teas.

It was Miss Han’s Mother who saw clearly the feast that would lie before her daughter in the future.“My daughter,” she thought to herself as she poured tea, “is like a spicy dim sum dumpling; one bite and it bursts with flavor. But this boy reminds me of these bitter shriveled tea leaves, swelling when you pour hot water over them, unfurling a gentle warm flavor, a comforting and soothing drink.”

A lot can change in one meal.

Miss Han's Lover

2010-12-12T15:13:00.000-08:00

Miss Han sat cool as a cucumber all through her brother’s wedding feast never letting on that her heart raged like hot and sour soup. She was waiting for her lover to arrive and present himself and yes, even claim her. But by the time the table had been cleared and fruits passed around to all the guests, Miss Han did not need to bite into chilly pears to know her boyfriend had cold feet and there would be an empty chair at this dinner and perhaps, all dinners to come.

Love Come, At Last

2010-12-03T04:38:00.000-08:00

Da Jie had been troubled for some time. Her Uncle Tu’s, beloved song bird, Exceeding Joy had flown away a year ago and it seemed that sightings of this free and cheeky bird had been far and few between. It had not flown so far away, say like to the southern provinces, as to be completely out of mind, but far enough away that the daily routine of cheerfulness was silent and this had left a sore spot deep in the heart of Da Jei’s un-tuned heart. It was not until a brief alighting at her window sill made her realize that if Exceeding Joy made even a small peep; just one tiny sound to remind her that love was still fluttering around her, it was enough to make her rise again.

~My month long trip to Asia ends tonight. I am on my way home to my waiting family who suffer much with my long weeks away. I missed Thanksgiving, but I am thankful for them and free countries who allow you to blog. Most of my time away, I have been unable to access Wu Fung Road and the visitors who join me there. Some of you have tracked me down no matter where I am. Thank you. You have no idea how much that helps.

It has been a hard trip. Mostly it has been mind numbing and constant work , but along the way, at critical moments and always when I least expect it, Exceeding Joy would alight on my window sill too.

~For Tamara, my sister and champion

Traveling South

2010-11-08T00:22:00.000-08:00

Ah Tzen had always admired the judgments of her husband, but recently she had begun to have her doubts. Perhaps it was Fung’s lack of planning. When they arrived in the south to begin their new jobs, it was only then she discovered that he had not thought about a nanny for Little Kite.

~and so I too, head South, home to Taiwan.

Ah Mei's Apple

2010-10-25T21:41:00.000-07:00

When Little Sister eventually grew up and left the farm, she became an accountant for a large electronics factory in Hsin Chu. It would be revealed much later that this plant actually made parts for Apple IPhone. Her family were very proud and would often comment at reunions that even in the care of chickens and the gathering of their eggs, she had shown great management skill at a young age.

"No!" She would protest ineffectively, "I only counted them, I had nothing to do with how many eggs our hen laid". But as far as the Chen family was concerned, Ah Mei was solely responsible for the brilliance of the Apple company and the increase in their stock. And if they were disappointed that she was helpless in programing their fancy phones, they never showed it to her face.

Who Is It?

2010-10-07T09:01:00.000-07:00

Yue Li had been in the back courtyard peeling carrots when she heard knocking at the front gate. She knew that her mistress was sleeping and would not want to be disturbed, but the maid had been taught to answer every call, so she carefully opened the gate and whispered to the gentleman at the door, “What do you want?”

~I am Home, back from Japan.

Before I left, I participated in Whidbey Island's wonderful Studio Tour and the first painting that sold was this screen. I laugh, because it was an old screen I had in my possession for 30 some years and I had grown tired of the faded lotus blossoms on it. The screen was falling apart and so on a whim I re-plastered it and made this quick painting. It is almost 4 feet wide, so it has been hard to get a good photo of it. As I made last minute preparations for my show I realized I was short and so threw this old thing up on the wall to fill the space. The first people who walked through the door bought it. I didn't have a price and indeed, tried to talk them out of buying it for is was barely hanging together. But they did. And I am glad. They were the cutest couple. They returned the last day as promised and told me they had made themselves a Chinese feast from scratch to welcome Yue Li to her new courtyard.

Su Chen Becomes a Monk

2010-10-02T16:06:00.000-07:00

Su Chen Becomes a Monk

~still in Nagoya

Li Li's Daughter

2010-09-26T21:48:00.000-07:00

“Wa!” Li Li thought as she stepped into the warm sunny morning,

“My daughter is as lively as a New Year’s firecracker."

~for My Uncle Al's 70th birthday

Dr. Esther Chin

2010-09-03T01:08:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I agree this is not the type of art you usually expect from me. A few years back when I was going through Menopause, I created this little character called Dr. Esther Chin, a dispenser of cures for HAREMONES. She gives out advice. So if you asked the good doctor what to do about mood swings, she would prescribe a Gin and Tonic. I "doctored" this sketch as she used to be a rabbit. But once I removed her ears, I realized she is really a self portrait.

I am feeling light hearted. I am once again in Nagoya and in a few minutes will join the magnificent Juli Johnson, a designer who works at Bunnies By The Bay, and she and I will ride shot gun in the back of truck with our hand made displays and little tins of touch up paint to install our first Bunnies By The Bay Hare Couture Boutique inside the Mitsukoshi Department Store here in Japan. We hope to be back to our rooms by dawn.

Yoli's Army Of Three

2010-08-18T22:18:00.000-07:00

In the days before Mrs. Chu settled down, she was a strong warrior specializing in the nimble handling of swords. It was therefore no surprise to those who knew 有力, that she would put down her blade and become a brave mother, raising her children with sharp wisdom. Her heart swelled with pride for her little army now playing by her side. They were her whole world and she had retrieved each one with the perseverance and patience worthy of heroic generals in battle. But, her three little soldiers had conquered her heart.

For my guardian, YoLi

Heaven On Earth

2010-08-15T17:31:00.000-07:00

There was nothing the old stone mason loved more than to have his family gathered under the eaves of his house. When the joys of his screeching grandchildren, the assistance of his capable children and the warm home created by his long-suffering wife, became too much to bear, Mr. Bao would step out into the cool evening night and watch over the heaven he had carved on earth.

For my cousins in Sarasota

Cousins Make Me Feel Smug

2010-08-02T19:46:00.000-07:00

Annie in my glasses

My cousin Annie Brantingham, a professor in Wu Han, took this photo of me in front of a painting I did called Jye Jye Whispers which I painted for yet another cousin, who lives in Shanghai. It is a portrait of my dearest Melanie and her three children. It hangs in her house where many scattered family gather frequently to spend holidays and long weekends. I am especially close to this family because her children are being raised like I was; on the streets and lanes of Chinese villages and not in foreign compounds. Her children, Isabelle, Sophia and Jonas speak fluent Mandarin and are agile in both cultures. We have that in common.

I usually hate photos of myself, but I think I look smug and happy in this one. Maybe it is because Annie, the photographer makes me laugh and of course, I love her. At one family reunion Annie and I entertained our cousins when we were sent to the kitchen to fix a simple lunch of hot dogs. We soon donned chef hats made out of paper towels and prepared the whole meal as if doing a Chinese cooking show. We did excessive amounts of chopping and using the word

C O N D O M ...E N T S in every sentence. It was Julia Childs meets John Belushi's The Samurai. We did our Taiwanese, Cantonese Chinglish accents and laughed ourselves silly. I have a fear that someday that routine will end up on utube.

All my cousins are funny and witty so when we are together we have a grand time. I will see Annie soon for we gather in Florida this weekend. We have had another death in the family. Three since May, including my Mother. This time it is our cousin Steve. This photo was taken the evening before my Mother's funeral. It is of my brother and I laughing our heads off at some story Steve is telling. He had this unique way of making you feel special, as if you were the only relative he cared about. I have no doubt that each of us who gather to remember him will think, "I was his favorite cousin." And we will each be right. We will all feel smug.

Nagoya

2010-07-09T07:33:00.000-07:00

I am in Nagoya, Japan working, but an early morning walk through the streets was delightful as I discovered these manhole covers. Only in Japan would utility covers be works of art!

A Joyful Return

2010-07-01T14:55:00.000-07:00

The youngest Bao brother had a vision. Perhaps he would have a son, born at the tail end of the year of the Tiger but just before the Rabbit. Maybe he would be a strong and powerful boy with just a hint of tenderness. It is upon this insight, that Exceeding Joy, Uncle Tu's often escaping song bird, decided to return.

~Posting from Taipei after a long journey

A New Table Is Set

2010-06-27T19:02:00.000-07:00

Ah Pu’s auntie gave him only one piece of advice on his wedding night and that was to make sure his new bride never went hungry. This would help them to have a long life together.

For Phillip and Jennifer

I am in New York to attend the wedding of my god-son Phillip. He was married in St. Patrick’s Cathedral yesterday, an incredible experience. It was grand and at the same time intimate. The last time I was in a Catholic Church for a ceremony was some 30 years ago, in Taiwan, when I held Ah Pu in my arms when he was but a few weeks old. Ann, Ah Pu’s mother is from New York and her family were never able to attend her wedding or the subsequent birth of her children, so I often “stood in” on behalf of relative's To go from the simple sparse pews of St. Anne’s in Tien Mou to a packed St. Patrick’s in Manhattan is a metaphor for Phillip’s journey.

The past month has been a sad one for me. My mother’s death has left me confused, bruised, and grief stricken; all emotions I was not prepared for. But this afternoon I walked around Central Park, in my red lantern scarf, in a mood of celebration and still dreamy over the wedding festivities of the night before. As I walked and eventually spread out under a big leafy tree, I thought hard about the last three decades, about Ann and her children, the groom being the oldest of our combined kids. And thinking about them brought my joy back, just like the bird often seen in my paintings, Exceeding Joy flits about and is sometimes fleeting, but always makes an appearance, alighting overhead when I least expect it.

I thought of how the preparation of Phillip’s birth changed my life. I learned so much about pregnancy and childbirth from Ann. She led me through so many experiences like a big sister. It was watching her with Ah Pu that made me want to be a mother. We had the same doctor, shared maternity clothes and gave each other showers. A year later my daughter Leigh was born.

I had never had much experience with women from the United States for when I lived in Taiwan I had few western friends. But Ann, a true Italian New Yorker, fresh from America informed me upon our first meeting at a near- bankrupt advertising agency in Taipei where we both worked as illustrators, that I WOULD BE her friend. She was about to marry a Taiwanese man and over our pencils and pads I unwound the long and tangled stories about the inner workings of complex Chinese families and customs. Over the last 30 years we have shared much exceeding joy, watching our children grow and we have also shared immense and heavy heartbreaks. We have walked through many shadows together keeping each other from falling. She has pushed me to be a stronger, truer and more accountable version of myself. I love that about her. I am always better in her presence.

Today I will take some credit for how well her two children turned out. Even though I was a substitute stand in god-mother when Ah Pu was baptized at St. Anne’s, yesterday it was a fully accredited Auntie who stood at St. Patricks.

~from N.Y.C

Time To Go Home

2010-06-06T14:00:00.000-07:00

After many months on the road and a journey that had many twists and turns,

the time had come to return home.

My Mama

2010-05-31T20:47:00.000-07:00

My Mother was raised in India. She went to school in the Himilayan Mountains. She was exotic and strange to me because I was raised in provinces of China. We were of different cultures. I spoke Mandarin and street Taiwanese, she Hindi and English with a slight hint of a British Accent.

Most of my life, in fact perhaps clear up until a few months ago, I didn't understand my mother and we had difficulty between us. When I came to take care of her back in January, that changed.

My youngest brother Timothy is a wordsmith and the night she died he said it best...he had been flying through the night to reach me and my mother and while enroute was amazed as he looked down through his airplane window at how beautiful the Eastern seaboard is from 10,000 feet above. He had always thought my Mother's life tragic and sad and that in recent years, things had not gone well for her, but then he saw her from 10,000 feet and saw everything about her differently and with a panoramic perspective.

Most of my life I saw my mother from her alleys, back doors, kitchens, septic systems and wiring panels, from a view so close as to render her landscape nothing but miswirings and faulty pipes. It was only as she died, that I got that 10,000 foot aerial persepctive and saw for the first time what every single other person around her saw; her majesty, eloquence, wit, beauty and ability to tell the best story about the most mundane thing. It was right under my nose all the time.

Her memorial is tomorrow. My brothers, daughter and sisters- in -law have gathered beside me at my mother's old home in Williamsburg to make arrangments. We have put right her house, sorted photos, written and cooked a good deal of food. I have done everything but paint.

I also realized today, that every single record of paintings I have done, I have posted. I am dry. This is my last painting until I can start new. I have so many planned and half done, but not a day at home in my studio in months.

Soon.

~the Four Children of Mrs. Bao gathered at the old family home. A new dynasty had begun and everything would be different.

My Mother Arrived

2010-05-27T15:51:00.000-07:00

Barbara Cattell Brantingham
10 Dec 1935 25 May 2010

A Stop Along The Way

2010-05-23T08:20:00.000-07:00

For several weeks now, my Mother has been talking about a trip she started some months ago. She has worried about her suitcase, whether the bus has enough gasoline in the tank and shown a good deal of anxiety as to whether or not she was at the right bus stop. Some days, she surveys a tall mountain and wonders aloud if a proper lorry can be secured to help her make the journey up the mountain to a place she calls Home. As I sit by her bedside, I have listened to these wild adventurous tales and thought she was hallucinating until a kindly Hospice nurse and Mother's wise Doctor informed me yesterday that this is her way of saying she is ready to make her greatest and most wonderful trip ever. To Heaven. So I got her ready.

My mother loves words and metaphors and she has been using them concisely and eloquently these past weeks, even in the midst of unbelievable, unbearable, and unmerciful pain.

And so this is to say, her ticket is bought, she is packed, and yesterday afternoon she let us know she was ready to board the bus for a journey that will take her through the plains of India, the majestic Himalayan peaks, the simple meeting houses of Ohio, over the lush verdant rice paddies of Taiwan, and on to the Purple Mountains of Nanking. Mother always said that the most dangerous and rutted roads lead through the most beautiful scenery. How long this trip will take, I can not be sure. But I guess it won't be long. The rest of this journey is up to my Mother and the Driver.

This is my send off.

~ I painted this mural for my nine month old niece Miya Brantingham who lives in Hong Kong. When her mother asked me to paint something around the crib, I cannot explain why I came up with this scene instead of jungle animals or little princesses. It just flowed effortlessly and I worked on it through the night during one of my recent trips .

I learned last night Miya and her mother Mariko are on their way here to Virginia to keep vigil with me and my brother. I look forward to a baby in the house. This is my mother’s youngest grandchild and she is a book end to my daughter Leigh, the oldest and the only other girl. I feel sorry Miya will not know her grandmother in the ways Leigh has, but just today I suddenly realized why my inner mind painted this mural to keep Miya safe through the night. It is a stop on my mother’s trip.

Come Home

2010-05-16T21:23:00.000-07:00

Eldest Sister sent a message to her brothers and their children, "It is time to come home."

~posting from at my mother's bedside.

Something Fishy

2010-05-01T21:45:00.000-07:00

Shiao Wang took his fish to the Bei Tou Market and rented a small stall next to three ladies from the Chen family who had opened a shop selling knitting supplies and teaching housewives how to knit. They scolded him demanding that he move down a few stalls so that the odor of his trade would not scare off their customers.

~I am posting from Taiwan. I have spent a restful and much needed relaxing weekend here with my brother and sister-in-law. Yesterday Tamra and I explored the market in their new neighborhood where I bought knitting yarn for the long airplane ride home and a watermelon.

Travels of Little Bean

2010-04-18T08:43:00.000-07:00

Shaio Dou Dou obediently chased all of Granny Huang’s chicks safely to her gate. In truth it was not Granny’s chick’s that needed herding, but her grandson. Ah Ma knew very well that Little Bean would never come home in time for dinner unless given some impossibly difficult job to complete.

Many decades later, it surprised no one to see Dou Dou happily employed by the Forever Fortune Lotus Travel Agency as a tour guide leading gold toothed veterans and farmer’s wives with freshly permed hair through the coastal airports of Mainland

China

~ writing from Nagoya, Japan and passing through numerous airports.

Lighting Candles

2010-04-09T10:13:00.000-07:00

The youngest son of the Hau Family lit ancestral candles in the main hall to welcome home his Da Jye. He kept vigil late into the night, listening for some sound of her on the long winding road to their gate. When his older sister was home, all would be well.

~and this is true for our family too. My daughter Leigh is home.

Tea Leaves

2010-03-19T08:36:00.000-07:00

When Mrs. Wu called for her maid to come and refresh her tea, Liu Liu thought this might be a waste of hot water and time. It had been several months now that Wu Tai Tai’s hopes and dreams had been sinking like the wrung out and over-brewed leaves that sank to the bottom of her tea cup every morning . But Liu Liu poured more hot water for Mrs. Wu, knowing that after lunch when she cleaned her mistress’s brewing pots she would scoop out soggy handfuls of tea leaves to heap around the roots of her little persimmon tree in the back courtyard, encouraging and willing it to grow.

Fish Soup

2010-03-07T09:24:00.000-08:00

Shaio Ge thought he could make himself a hearty and fragrant soup if he used only the smallest fish he had caught. The rest of his catch he would sell in the afternoon market.

~Back home

Calligraphy-Rededicated To Shaista

2010-02-20T13:39:00.000-08:00

Many scrolls of calligraphy hung in Uncle Tu’s main halls. His maid, Deng Zi Mei, wondered how she could learn the meaning behind the beautiful lines and considered it a dream if someday she could surprise the kindly Uncle Tu by reciting all his poems as soulfully as he had written them.

~~Sometimes I paint something long ago and then I see it in a new light, under new circumstances, or through a new lens of experience. I completed this painting over three years ago at a time when Deng Zi Mei, a real woman had inspired me. She is a lowly clerk who works in the factory that produces my goods. She is dedicated to the smallest detail. She does accounting not in yuans, but in tenths of yuans, in threads, in snaps, crumbs, loose grams of stuffing fuzz. The smallest and most insignificant thing does not escape her eye in my factory. It used to drive me crazy when she would ask if I preferred a new kind of thread because she thought she might be able to save me .0025 RMB per day in floss cost.

Then I learned this frugalness and thrift was her love language to me and the kindly Uncle Tu who owns the factory and for whom she tries so hard to please. I have always sensed hidden greatness in her. It would not surpirze me to learn she had millions of dollars stashed away under her mats or had written an epic novel under a pen name or is the party secretary of our province. I have seen her single handedly take on government officials and customs bureaucrats to win some insignificant concession for me. It is this spirit in her that reminds me of Shaista, my friend who fights Lupus and who brings forth from her long and surely tedious days the most amazing efficient poetry. Tiny and sparse words, like Miss Deng's pennies and loose threads, that knitted together are mighty and grand.

Now, during the Chinese New Year holiday, our factory is closed. Only Miss Deng stops by daily to check that the gates are locked, and that the spent red fire cracker paper is swept up, and that no lights have been left on to burn wastefully. She does this while she waits as the sole resident of our workshop for the return of Uncle Tu, our workers, and me at the end of our holidays. I have no doubt that as I write this post, she has written in her beautiful calligraphy, spring couplets on two strips of chalky red paper and pasted them on the doors to our factory. Her poetry, like Shaista's is short and to the point. It will say something like, Hark! A New Year! Spring Comes. Work hard. Blessings Here.

And so it will be true.

Lupus In Flight---fly there now.

Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon

2010-02-07T07:07:00.000-08:00

Lin Shaio Lan was running out of time. The Year of the Tiger was about to pounce upon her and still no baby. Next year would be The Rabbit. She was a Rabbit, timid to decide, but darting out of danger at the last possible moment. After that would be the year of the Dragon. Shaio Lan thought, that at last a Dragon Baby would shut everyone up. Maybe she should accept the standing offer to marry Mr. Wu.

Mother Sees

2010-01-31T07:01:00.000-08:00

Knit Together With Red Thread

2010-01-29T17:05:00.000-08:00

For me, this is a piece of art. My blind Mother knit this. Since her blindness settled in for good, she has not been able to complete a single knitting project. It's been five or six years now. She took up knitting again 10 months ago but she has not successfully knitted more than three rows. Her fingers would feel some small hole or mistake and she would rip it all out and re cast to begin over. She could not sit and speak with you without picking up her needles and a few minutes later unraveling what she had done. It was as if her own thoughts were unraveling. Her days were unwinding. Her life was becoming a big knot. Knitting symbolized her current life.

I have been taking care of my mother for almost a month marching steadily towards decline, ill health, and all kinds of trials and tribulations that make her blindness in comparison seem a small and trite thing. I have been pushing her to finish more than three rows and it was with great ceremony that last night we cast off this knitting. This piece has much symbolism for me. Sure, there are holes. At places, it is inside out. It grows. It has many flaws. Isn't this true of us all? I know it is of me. But this is knit by my mother and so am I, knit together with her hands and all her hopes.

After I took a photo of this and told her I was about to share it with my scattered brothers in Asia, she lifted her head away from my voice and asked, "Do you have any thicker yarn in brighter colors?"

We cast a new piece tonight.

A Quick Bite

2010-01-22T06:45:00.000-08:00

Li Li was very busy taking care of her Ah Ma. Granny was blind and bedridden so all she could afford was a quick bite.

I painted this many many years ago. It was probably one of my very first experiments in my new textured and carved style of portraits. I gave it to my Mother, who at that time, was blind in one eye but could still see well enough with the other to drive! I found it here in her apartment last night trying to find an electrical outlet. The painting had fallen behind her book shelf and was rooted deeply in carpet fuzz and a knot of cords.

I delicately pulled it out and began to nursed this picture back to health but I quickly noticed fingernail scratches all over it. The etches and paint around the face were almost WORN off! I smelled HAND CREAM on the surface! It suddenly occurred to me that she had been reading my painting like braille!

My mother never enjoyed or approved of my artwork until I began painting our neighbors on Wu Fung Road. It occured to me last night I had finally been successful and that unconsciously I had developed a medium that she could finally see and enjoy. I felt sorry this insight came at the cost of her blindness.

So, I return to the nursing home agian today. A Quick Bite is refurbished and under my arm. We shall look at LiLi together after our own lunch.

~from Williamsburg

A Visit to Reconsider

2010-01-17T10:12:00.000-08:00

Lee Yu Ming had been working in the big city for several years when word reached her that her mother was weak and cried out to see her daughter every night. Reluctantly she rushed home, pulling her only son out of school. It would be her duty to step in and take over the care of her mother and the management of her old courtyards. As soon as Yu-Ming stepped over the threshold the same confidence that had driven her from it doors ten years ago now flooded back. It dawned on her in that moment that she had only been a mediocre business woman while in the city and that her son had not thrived as she had imagined he would. Some small glimmer of hope came over her.

~I am posting from Virgina, where I am taking care of my blind mother for awhile. But lest you think I painted this painting recently, I did not. I did it four or five years ago, for Lee Yu-Ming and her son Da ren who left my side at Bunnies By The Bay where we worked together until she returned to her family. It surprizes me how this painting has comforted me this week.

Dao's Daughter

2010-01-09T06:57:00.000-08:00

Dao's daughter had many dreams for her future. First, all cabbages needed to be cleaned and wrapped for market. Then her brother's bicycle needed to be repaired. Finally, she must help her mother clean the Farang's house. After that she might dream about school.

Washing Up The New Year

2010-01-03T01:06:00.000-08:00

After Dao was certain that the family she now worked for had departed for their long journey home, the newly hired maid sighed with relief, happy to be alone in the house once again. She looked forward to the long and sunny days ahead where she would wash all the linens and clean up after the Blue Moon New Year. By the time her mistress returned, it would be time for the Chinese Lunar New Year. Dao wondered how many new years a family needed.

Blue Moon Over Pong Yaeng

2010-01-01T12:01:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

Red Lanterns

2009-12-28T04:51:00.000-08:00

It rained during Jia Li's wedding. But her old uncle told her this was a good omen and that her married life would be lucky. Her mother, certainly hoped this was true.

~posting from Chiang Mai where the newly weds have joined us. They are radiant.

My Daughter Weds

2009-12-21T21:53:00.000-08:00

My daughter Leigh and her honey Scott the night before they wed.

We are sending off our best wishes.

Koh Samui, Thailand

Dec. 19, 2009

My dear friends,

I have been so busy for the last few weeks getting ready for my daughter's wedding. Friends and Family from all over the world have assembled here in Thailand to celebrate her marriage to Scott Powrie. Today we are lounging around lazily and beginning to share photos. My two sister in laws provided some of these. Tomorrow we head north to Chiang Mai where I hope to get my hands into some plaster and paint quickly.

Jeanne-ming

Gods and Generals At The Door

2009-12-06T15:10:00.000-08:00

Li Li thought she had very good fortune to work at a residence where mighty gods and legendary generals stood at attention guarding her courtyard. Even though they were painted on red paper and and then glued on with yesterday's left over rice paste, she felt protected. She felt safe, even from Merchant Huang, who had made his intentions for her quite obvious.

A Full Moon and A Red Thread

2009-11-30T22:30:00.001-08:00

Dear Friends,
I fear I concluded the story of my boy with the red ball too abruptly. My last night in Pong Yaeng came quickly and I was in a hurry to notify my family of a discovery.

There is a constant reoccurring theme in my life; a red thread, so to speak, that leads me to special people. For example, how I came to be at Bunnies By the Bay is a story that seems, upon the first hearing of it, unbelievable. I survived an earthquake in 1963 on Wu Fung Road. Others who survived are our shareholders and partners. We came together on the slimmest of reasons and tracked down two American sisters who had founded the company. We did not know at the time what desperate straits they were in. This tale knits us together even today, twelve years later, the way disasters bind strangers. The way soldiers become brothers. It amazes me how small signs and tokens have revealed themselves to me not to guide me, but to confirm new directions that seem frightening at the time.

These signs also seems haphazard and sometimes when I recount these tales to my analytical husband I see that look glaze across his eyes…”oh, there goes my artist wife again.” But he supports and believes in the luck that surrounds me. Even a handful of you, my new friends on Wu Fung Road, will be friends for life. I already know this. There are signs of red threads tangled about our ankles. And so my interest in this boy who has played in the fields across the ravine from my house in Thailand was one of those experiences I became almost embarrassed to reveal to my friends and partners.

It was hard explaining why I was so interested in him; I found his recycling of the TIGER BRAND RUBBER BALL into the many things I saw it become over three years very reassuring. Perhaps ALL things could be remade and used they way he constantly seemed to refashion his deflated red ball until it had been rued down to its truest, smallest thing. A red patch. Today, finally back in the USA, I tried to explain this to my partners who were curious why my last three posts were so “long and wordy.” That is when I realized how ridiculous I must appear to them. So over dramatic. Always digging for this connection. But then, I am ridiculous.

As I have written, my house in Thailand constantly needs to be aired out when I am away. This year, 12 months went by without visiting and when I arrived last week I spend nearly the entire time airing, cleaning and doing over 139 loads of laundry (stopped counting) and after only spending half an afternoon painting, I thought I must break down and hire a part time house keeper. It seemed an extravagance. A caretaker for an empty house. But a wonderful housekeeper came recommended by my neighbors. The next morning Kuhn Dao was at my door slipping off her shoes.

She was lovely, helpful, cheerful, independent and vaguely familiar. When she blew through a room, she left it hospital clean. It was only at the end of the day when I still could not quite put my finger on what it was about her that seemed so, well, close, I noticed that familiar color of coral that I have associated with the boy who had himself a grand time with a red ball and lost it. In a blink, I saw an eye-shaped patch on the back of her bicycle tire as she waved goodbye and scrambled over seat. I was as stunned to find my broken Thai voice as her feet were to find the pedals. With one hard push, she was off. I had just given her a key, established an account to pay her and handed over my Thai life to her. As I saw the red patch turn and turn it very suddenly dawned on me… she was the boy’s mother.

I raced after her, but she was gone so I continued through the gate running up to the Post Bar stumbling into his Post Office….”Did you know my new housekeeper is THE BOY’S mother?" I spilled a dozen questions in quick succession. Over a cup of tea the young Post Master calmed me down and told me what he knew. He IS the post office after all. He knows a lot. To protect her, I cannot be specific. I do know that last year she lost the land lease for the field she farmed and her motorcycle and was desperate for money so that her children could attend school. No one is too clear about her husband but it is presumed he is in Burma. She was introduced to my neighbors by the gardener who looks after our properties and in the year I have been away everything in her life has changed.

So what does this mean? Why is the very child I have sought to protect and worried about from my perch now live in the shadow of my eaves? Why did this boy seem to lunge at me so many times. Was he trying to get my attention without seeming to? What role will he play in my future?

I was sad to drive down the mountain yesterday dawn to catch my flight to Bangkok, on to Taipei, and finally overnight, back across the Pacific to Whidbey Island. As I flew I kept thinking with some amazement that they would be in and out of my house until I return at Christmas. I wondered what they would make of it. As I write this tonight, right now, Dao is unlocking my doors in Pong Yaeng and throwing open all the shutters to awaken the spirit living it my studio and sleeping rooms. She will keep my hearth going so that next month when our large extended Asian based family reunites for my daughter Leigh's wedding it will be cozy and clean.

Will she recognize the paintings hanging there as being of her children? Will the children come and visit and stare at my strange pictures wondering if I have been watching them? Maybe it will be something like Yoli’s daughter Paloma and Maia’s ball hurling QQ will experience someday when they come to behold the careful record their mother's have made of their journey to all of us. Will they understand they were cared for long before they were aware of it and by complete strangers? Will this empower them? We love them for no reason. Will Dau see that I have cared about her family since that day she took her strong willed boy and compliant daughter down the hill to sell their cabbages?

It does not matter either way.

Red Ball III

2009-11-29T06:39:00.001-08:00

The boy, Little Red, traded in his ball for a broom. His ball had been recycled many times transforming itself into a helmet, then a bucket, a slingshot and finally a bicycle's tire patch. It was the eye shaped patch, the unmistakable color of a faded red rubber ball, glued to the back tire of his mother's bicycle, that quickened my heart and made me realise that I had hired his mother to be my parttime house keeper.

~my last night in Pong Yaeng

The Red Ball II

2009-11-25T05:36:00.000-08:00

A Giant Leap Forward

When Little Qui stepped over the threshold of her new home she had no idea what a grand adventure she had begun.

Red Ball II
~ I saw him! I was at the bicycle shop across the street from the Primary school when it let out at 2:45. I feared I might not recognize him. But in the time it took to blink, There he was. You cannot miss him. But I must continue first....

Dec. 2007
Dear Leigh, I finally made it back to Chiang Mai. I arrived last night.

I walked up to the village store this morning to get food. Word spread quickly through Pong Yaeng that I was back and I was greeted warmly at each stop. Kuhn Aong at the Post Office Bar mixed me a gin and tonic as a welcome home gift. I did not have the heart to tell him that it was not an ideal beverage for 8 am. I went through the motions of picking up my mail. This time looming election pamphlets.

The best part of my walk to the village was running into “THE” boy. I have not seen him the last two times I have been here and Niran was not helpful in explaining anything about what had happened to him. I had more or less given up on seeing him again and believed the family had moved away or worse, been picked up and deported. So I was relieved when I saw his mother on the side of the road loading up her motor bike rack with a basket of cabbages, alone. I hoped this meant the children were finally in school.

But walking back I heard a rustling in the low scrub that lines the road, a whacking sound like a whip or bamboo stick being used to beat down thick brush. It sounded like heavy work, but curiously I couldn't see anyone doing it. Then I heard a ferocious and terrifying roar. It was not that I was afraid but that I recognized this attempt to put fear into my heart as the sound of a child trying to sound terrifying. The boy popped out of the weeds standing only a head taller than the stalks in a move to take me by surprise. I was indeed taken aback. On his head was the red ball that I had returned to him this summer. It was completely deflated and inverted into itself forming a giant bowl which he wore as a helmet. His bamboo stick was a sword and his enemies the tall grass and weeds. He slayed them all with great gusto and shouted something at me that I did not understand but that sounded like “Death to Invading Farang.”

I feared for my life. I am normally not afraid of children, but I was completely convinced that he meant to slay a dragon and if I was mistaken for one, I was the fool. So I kept walking hoping that if I pretended to ignore him, he would not line me up in his sights or whack me. After a couple of bends in the road I reasoned with myself that it was silly to be afraid of a child, so I turned around to head back towards him, but I was too late and was passed by the mother and son on their motorcycle. Her boy was standing on the seat like one would stand inside a military jeep, leaning against his mother's back holding her shoulder like he was hanging onto the windshield and he held himself as if viewing troops. He was riding his jeep to battle. He held his stick out with one arm and his red helmet down on his head with the other whizzed down the mountain at a dizzying speed. Every time I see this boy I am clutched with fear, but I must admit, he was grand.

I am fairly certain that someday he will be a famous general and lead a coup here in Thailand.

April, 2008

Mae Sa Ban Doi

I have returned to Mae Sa Ban DOi. It is warm and dry. The Songkran festival starts tomorrow and I am excited. Children, teens, and even grown men are playing with water everywhere. In the same way that fireworks reduce men to boys, so too water pistols. Buckets and bazooka water guns are everywhere.

I did have an encounter with the boy. I saw him yesterday from the Post Bar. He was playing in the creek below. but when I noticed him, I was in the middle of a serious conversation with Kuhn Aong about my electricity. He explained that I can now pay our utility bill at the post office and so we were sorting through six months of undelivered mail looking for my latest bill. I did not have the heart to tell him that Kuhn Vecharee already takes care of this through international internet auto bill pay, fearing that such a revelation would cause Kuhn Aong to give up hope. So I played along. After he was satisfied that the Thai government was certainly inefficient for never charging farang for electricity he let me go with an armful of undelivered newspapers and junk mail that he thought might be useful to me in painting.

I was laden with paper when the little boy jumped out from behind a huge mail drop receptacle which is positioned prominently in front of the bamboo shack post office. It is made of iron and looks like a sumo sugar dispenser. It is certainly large enough to adequately hold the volume of mail generated, in say, all of Manhattan in its tall hollow body. If all of Pong Yaeng is someday washed off the mountain I know certainly that this postal edifice will survive with the two or three letters laying safely in its bottom. Maybe with my lost letter to Grandma. Anyway, I was indeed completely taken by surprised when the lad ambushed me in the appropriate Song Kran ritual of welcoming the spring rains by hurling approximately 5cups of water in my face from his inverted red rubber ball helmet which now was his SongKran bucket.

He ran away before I could wipe the water out of my eyes.

The Red Ball I

2009-11-24T08:24:00.000-08:00

Shiao Lu Buys Rice

Granny sent Shiao Lu to the market to buy rice. She gave him four kwai and told him there was no extra for a red bean icy.

~~Dear Fiends,
I am posting from Northern Thailand where I have a second home. Tonight I went to the Post Office for dinner. In our town the Post Master also runs a small restaurant and bar to the side of the stamp counter. Thus, his establishment is called, The Post Bar. As is my habit each time I come here, I stop to see Kuhn Aong and to pick up any mail that has come for me. There has never been a letter, not one in three years, but it is an excuse to say hello and to catch up on what is happening in town. He is also witness to a relationship I have with a small boy in this village. No one knows much about him as he is most likely the child of an undocumented Burmese refugee. There are a large number here, but he also may be from the hill tribes of Hmong and Karen. No one knows.

But tonight, let me begin to tell you a long story. Tonight I asked the Post Master about the boy. I have been here three days and haven’t seen him. Kuhn Aong smiled as if we share a secret and then gave me some hint of what I may find tomorrow if I stand quietly in the bicycle shop that is adjacent to the school gate. So that is where I will be. Tomorrow, at three.

But it begins like this, two and a half years ago. I wrote my daughter all about it.

June 16, 2007
Mae Sa Ban Doi

Sawadee Kah Dear Leigh,
I await your arrival in Thailand next month with joyful anticipation. Dad and Ben arrive next week. I have been here a month already. I spend my mornings sketching and preparing boards for painting, but often just sit, observing the villages around me from the veranda on the second floor where I have great views across the valley of several hill tribe farms. Directly across from me, over a ravine, I can observe, quite intimately, the comings and goings of a family as they farm without them being the slightest bit aware of me. I became fascinated with them when I began to hear the chatter and cries of a small boy every morning around dawn. The acoustics are such that I kept thinking someone was in the house. So I heard him before I ever saw him.

The boy is about 4, maybe five. His mother farms a plot of capsicum and cabbages with the help of a daughter who looks to be about 12. The mother rarely stands straight but when she does I can see a broad smooth face and a high forehead. The daughter is quiet. She looks somewhat beaten down and has wistfulness about her I can see even from across the ravine.

The boy is the orneriest child I have observed in many years. At dawn I hear him talking, singing, shouting and bantering with the two women as they descend the hill towards their patch of land. Within an hour he is bored and begins a relentless and annoying ploy to get attention. Usually he is unsuccessful. He frustrates his already tired mother and drives his sullen sister completely mad. Several times I have seen her lunge to whack him but he is always just a hair out of reach and a second too fast for her. He pees on her vegetables, throws rotten cabbages at her butt, howls, scowls, and pouts. He is insufferable and if I were his mother I would turn him over my knee and give him a sound spanking or a good flick to the ears.

Yet I confess he is riveting to observe. I am almost ashamed. And even as I cluck over the most outrageous childish tantrums, I chuckle and have even guffawed out loud and fallen off my perch. He seems so full of himself, so confident. He never wavers or acts confused. He is demanding. I wonder about them...is there a father?.....why doesn't the girl go to school? Where do they live? Are they Hmong? If so why no embroidered clothing? Are they refugees? They seem so alone in Mae Rim. I never see them with others at the market in our village or loitering about the food stalls or baht bus stops.

In the evenings around 6, the Wat in Pong Yaeng sounds a gong six times. Niran, our gardener, says this is not a call to prayer as I thought, but a reminder to the farmers, who don’t wear watches, that it is time to go home and that if they leave when the gongs go off they can make it up hill before dark. The ringing of the gong is also my signal to grab a drink and get myself in position on the veranda so that I can observe the little family pack their baskets for the day and head home. The boy loves this, happy to leave the boredom of farming. His mother, despite having worked all day bent over, picks the clinging boy up and carries him home on her back. He is as spoiled as a rotten egg.

Yesterday, I was walking up to the village when this family unexpectedly and quite suddenly passed me on a tinny looking motorcycle. In their speed they did not notice me or pay me the slightest attention at all. I had never seen them anywhere but in the field so it was shocking to see them out, sort of like when you run into your 4th grade teacher in a nightclub. They whizzed passed me. The mother was driving, the girl on the back seat with her arms behind her gripping the rack for balance and upon which was an over stuffed, loosely woven basket of freshly cut cabbages. This load looked to weigh more than all three of them combined. No helmets. The boy STOOD on the seat between his mother and sister casually leaning against his mother's back. His pose indicated complete ease and I am sure this is the only way he has ever traveled. He seemed as comfortable as if he was simply leaning against an immovable fortress wall. His arms were stretched out like wings. He was flying. His little tuft of hair was blowing wildly back. I gasped aloud and clutched my chest at the danger and speed.

I was terrified I would never see them again. I watched them disappear down the road and had an awful feeling wash over me as I stood in the steamy pavement staring at where they had just passed. This might be what feels like to be God. To observe others without them knowing you are watching. To know what dangers people face and to worry and fret about their well being without their own slightest concern. For the rest of my day I could not refrain from scheming as to how I could rescue this family. I could give them money. Move them into my house. Provide for them. I would give them advantages. Buy them a car with seat belts or better yet a car seat. I could improve their lives. Keep them from danger. Save them.

In the afternoon when Kuhn Niran came to water, I almost rushed him to ask if he knew anything about this family. "Don't woolie madam, 'dey come back. Go market...sell begetable...it's ok. not danger."

He was obviously right for in the morning I awoke to their chatter again. The boy seemed louder and more excited than normal. When he came into view I could see what made him so happy; a big juicy rubber red ball the size of a basketball. Clearly the expedition to the market had been successful enough to afford this small luxury. He was delighted and played merrily all day long tossing it, spiking it, bouncing it. He threw it at his sister a dozen times but she seemed appreciative it was not rotten produce and didn't scowl at him. He tossed it high and then squealed when he caught it. But mostly he chased the bounding ball all over the mountain side.

Yesterday noon, I again went up to the market, but first stopped to have lunch at the Post Bar and chat some with Kuhn Aong. I like him. He is a Chiang Mai University drop out from the School of Architecture. It seems he ran out of money so he got a job delivering the mail for Pong Yaeng village and the Royal project nearby on account of his good English reading comprehension. He never calls me Kuhn Jeanne, like everyone else does, but my whole address. "Oh Good Morning Miss Jeanne Ming Brantingham Hayes of Fouteen Dash Three Mae Sa Ban Doi."

The Post Bar is a post office, but it is also a bar. It is a bamboo shack of which half of it hangs dangerously over the side of the gully where a seasonal river rushes. It sounds nice; the water on the rocks, but it makes me a little queasy. I mailed a letter to Grandma from the Post Bar over a month ago and she never received it. I am pretty sure that if I were to hike down to the river bed, I would find my mail stuck to a boulder with the ink running like mascara. The slats on the bamboo floor are wider than mailbox openings. I would bet the most important letter one would ever write would end up falling through the floor never to be delivered or read. Maybe it is just as well.

Anyway, I was thumbing through Kuhn Aong’s impressive collection of Thai architecture magazines when something red caught my eye down on the river. The boy’s ball was bouncing violently from rock to rock making its way down the waterfall into a sludgy pool just below the Post Bar.

I again gasped, fearing that the boy must be behind the ball and in the same peril. I dropped my spoon of rice, hopped the thicket and half slid half bolted down the ravine wading into the water to save the ball and if need be, a boy. I expected to catch his shirt or to look find him on the rocks with his hands outstretched demanding the balls return, but there was no sign of him. My heart froze and I desperately waded in the water looking for him. Soon though, I heard him howling. Kuhn Aong hung over the Post Bar, literally, directing me where to step so I could scoop up the rubber ball.

I was suddenly delighted to have an excuse to meet the boy; to hand him the ball or throw it to him and that he would thank me and that we would become best friends instantly. Maybe he would see from my face that I liked him or sense that I already cared very much about him. As I hiked out of the ravine up to the highway and then further up the hill towards his inconsolable cries, I considered how returning this ball might change his life. My imagination went wild and at the point where I could picture them living with me in America, I came to the path that leads to their garden.

I could smell potent earth. Clay. Musty and rich dirt mixed with some night soil and this brought me to my senses. Maybe my intrusion wasn’t a good thing. I had unwound all my fantasies by the time I reached the path which leads to their patch and thier field is marked by a tall bendy stand of bamboo trees that forms a curtain, shielding the plot from view. I could still hear the boy crying and carrying on. I could hear him scratching and searching for the ball and his mother trying to dissuade him. Her voice had that sound of resignation when toys are won and lost in a day.

I decided at last it would be best if I was to stay invisible. So I backed up and kicked the ball as high as I could, hoping it would clear the tree tops. I could hear it fall softly into the dirt. I knew I had hit the mark when I heard the boy squeal joyfully announcing to his mother that his ball was in sight.

In the two minutes it took me to get back to my veranda perch, I found him staring up to the tree tops. How had his ball fallen from the sky? It had rolled down. Now it had come from up there. I could see him with it tucked under his arm as he stared cock eyed trying to figure out how his ball had come back to him. He pointed, trying to interest his mother and sister in this mystery. Neither paid him any attention and continued hoeing. He bugged them all afternoon to explain it. I could tell by his voice. Questions Questions Questions.

With the sounding of temple gongs at dusk, the boy’s mother picked him up and juggled him to her back. His sister gathered up the tools and balanced a basket on her head. She handed the boy his ball, which he tucked tightly under his arm again and when they were all set, when he was sure he had it tightly and would not lose it again, only then did they slowly trudged up the hill to what I hope is a cozy home.

And so my dear girl, I hope too you will find this place a cozy home. Hurry.

Love,
Mama

She Grows Paprika

2009-11-22T17:34:00.000-08:00

This painting has no story and yet many tales. It isn't finished. I returned to my home in Northern Thailand two days ago and was pleased to find this on my easel. I started it a year ago and completely forgot about it. It is of a girl who lives across the valley. She carries her brother on her back to and from the fields where she and her mother tend Paprika plants. I have watched this trio for three years now and have many stories about their comings and goings. I watch them from my studio. They cannot see me.

~~from the hills of Pong Yaeng, Mae Rim, Chiang Mai~~~Northern Thailand

Going Home

2009-11-20T05:42:00.001-08:00

Deng Zi Mei was pleased she had sold everyone of her Granny’s cabbages. Her last one went to Lao Bao for dumplings.

~~Dear Ones,
I have been in Zhong Shan and Hong Kong this past week working. While in China, it is hard for me to blog and this trip, the weather was freezing cold and seemed more so because in Southern China the buildings aren't heated. I woke up in the morning and could see my breath while still in bed!

Tonight though, I am in Taiwan. As soon as I step off the plane my pores fill up with the musty humidity of home mixed with a tinge of sesame oil. It is the aroma of home(some would call it stinky) but to me it is the most wonderful smell.
After a good bowl of Taiwan Noodles, I powered up to see what you have all been up to. Tonight I travel on to Thailand.

Jeanne-ming

Shiao Li and Bao Bao

2009-11-14T14:38:00.000-08:00

Bao Bao, the youngest of all the Wu children, loved his Ah Yi more than anyone in the world. In fact he adored Shiao Li. This feeling, he described to his wife many years later, was more urgent than love. He went on to declare that the years he had spent tied to his nanny's back were the happiest of his whole life.

~posting from Taiwan. Sigh. Home again.

Su Ling Sits Still

2009-11-11T05:03:00.001-08:00

When Mr. Ma arrived for his appointment with the Han’s of Tai Nan in order to finalize the purchase of their 50 hectors of terraced land, he could not help but notice the surprising presence of their youngest daughter. She sat very still next to her father and this made Mr. Ma feel uneasy. He thought Miss Han might lurch faster than a grasshopper to stop her father from reaching for his chop.

A Late Night Return

2009-11-05T06:23:00.000-08:00

A Late Night Return

It was only at major festivals that the Huang’s baby was brought home to join his family. Otherwise he lived with his Ah Ma. After The Autumn Festival, his elder brother’s usual chore was to take Bao Bao back to Granny.

~from New York. Returning home tonight. My husband Peter's Mother, Satia Hayes passed away yesterday at the good age of 95. She has returned home.

Clear Direction

2009-11-02T12:14:00.000-08:00

Mei Mei had been waiting in the bamboo grove at the end of the lane for some time. She was waiting for a good omen, hoping that the way the bamboo leaves fell at her feet would indicate to her how she would begin her trip. All she needed was some clear direction.

~from New York

Evening

2009-10-27T22:20:00.000-07:00

Ah Ma had a terrible time staying awake past dinner time.

~for QQ

A Quiet Chat

2009-10-26T00:52:00.000-07:00

A Quiet Chat

Jade and Moon had a quiet chat over tea. They talked about calligraphy and growing vegetables. It seems they also had a few things to say about their daughters.

Warriors of Exceeding Joy

2009-10-25T01:15:00.000-07:00

Warriors of Exceeding Joy

~I have been quite busy since I returned from China and have had little time for "quiet chats" myself. I had a show that opened Saturday night at the OPEN DOOR Gallery and have been consumed with getting all my Wu Fung Road portraits ready in time. This show was for my dear friend Shaista who bravely fights, but with Exceeding Joy.

Fly Home

2009-10-18T06:22:00.000-07:00

Miss Bao had been here and there and everywhere. She was glad to be back from her long trip and to see that Exceeding Joy was waiting to welcome her home.

~From Whidbey Island

A Late Night Song

2009-10-09T15:56:00.000-07:00

After everyone in the household had used up all the hot water for baths and gone to bed, it was finally Ah Hwa's chance to do laundry. Perhaps it was the sound of water that drew Exceeding Joy, now a free bird, to stop by for a visit.

"So, what are you doing here?" The old servant inquired.

~from Hong Kong's Lamma Island

Returning Home

2009-10-07T13:00:00.000-07:00

Ah Ying had many important things on her mind as she herded her flock from Third Uncle’s pond. She could not remember if she had tethered up the water buffalo earlier this morning or if she had fed the chickens at dawn. She was confused about the chilies she had laid out in the courtyard and still was not clear if she was suppose to take her brother to Granny Chen's or go to the market. She was not sure how she would manage all her chores.

~from Zhong Shan, China

Lucky Pearls

2009-09-30T12:20:00.000-07:00

As Moon Festival approached, Mr. Wan's mistress wondered if she would see her lover, even if just for a few hours. It was doubtful though, given all his family obligations. Just in case he should surprise her, she wore her red envelope slippers and her lucky pearls.

~sold to anonymous buyer. Proceeds went to Home Sweet Home in Shanghai, a home for the homeless.

The Lin Brothers Get Paid

2009-09-25T12:28:00.000-07:00

When the Lin Brothers had finished sweeping the Wong's courtyard it was late and Mrs. Wong, who controlled the family purse, had already gone to bed. The Wong's gate man refused to wake anyone in the household who had authority to see that the boys from Chai Yi were paid. It was also too late to walk back to town for dinner so he offered the brothers the stone floor of his guard house and a bowl of luke-warm tea.

Mrs. Tan's Gold Ring

2009-09-22T00:14:00.001-07:00

Mrs. Tan was highly respected by all her neighbors. She was good with money. She could not resist any opportunity to show off her gold ring. "Wa! I tell you what! When I fled from Shanghai I came here with only one small piece of gold my Ni Ni gave to me for the trip. I sewed it into my red padded coat. I had nothing! I have sold and bought it back many many times whenever I am low on the cash."

Third Brother Ponders

2009-09-19T20:20:00.000-07:00

Third Brother was pondering his life. He had suddenly become homesick.

Autumn Festival

2009-09-17T18:32:00.000-07:00

When Mrs. Huang gathered her children and prepared to take them to her parent's home to pay respects to their ancestors, her only son, Little Brother, refused to go unless Shiao Li, his nanny, accompanied them. Huang Tai Tai sighed, but finally agreed.

Don't Be Afraid

2009-09-10T11:47:00.000-07:00

When Li Mei was about to set off to work as a kitchen maid for Mrs. Chen, her auntie told her not to be afraid. "You'll see. It is a very very lucky arrangement. The Chen's have many sons."

Exceeding Joy

2009-09-06T13:54:00.000-07:00

When Uncle Tu finally returned from his trip to the big northern city he was informed by a very nervous Mrs Chen that her third son had carelessly let the old man's beloved song bird, Exceeding Joy escape. She went on to tell him that every resident of Wu Fung Road had spent two weeks or more trying to either catch the bird or coax it back into its cage. She hoped that Uncle Tu would not be angry and demand compensation.

Exceeding Joy had flitted here and there, eluding them all while she flew about exploring the courtyards of Wu Fung Road and singing as she pleased. At last the wayward bird alighted on the outstretched hands of Little Kite, a child with no known ancestors but in the care of the Chen family as a possible future wife for one of their many sons.

When Uncle Tu saw his bird and the little girl together, he was suddenly glad to be back in Chai Yi and even happier to live on Wu Fung Road. The big northern city had been a disappointment and he had found no happiness there.

"Chen Tai Tai," he said turning to her. "It's alright. Sorry for the trouble my bird has caused you."

A Fitting Tune For a Fleeting Return

2009-09-02T12:02:00.000-07:00

Exceeding Joy was glad to be back. In truth, her daring escape from Uncle Tu's courtyard and subsequent travels had only gotten her as far as the end of town. When she heard Little Wang, Teacher Li's poorest student, reciting ancient poems for his class, she suddenly felt the need to sing. Exceeding Joy came willingly to the boy and pondered for a moment as to what would be a fitting homecoming tune.

Recess

2009-09-01T07:20:00.000-07:00

Not everyone on Wu Fung Road was listening for Uncle Tu's return. Some were at school. Chang Fei had just been called upon by Teacher Li to recited a passage from Dream of the Red Chamber when he was interrupted by the gleeful singing of Uncle Tu's bird, Exceeding Joy, who had been loose and free for more than a week.

Never had a student felt more relief.

Don't Miss A Thing

2009-08-30T12:25:00.000-07:00

Lee Huang Lai gobbled her lunch while keeping an eye on the road outside the Forever Prosperity Restaurant. She could not wait for her sisters a minute longer, afraid she would miss the return of Uncle Tu on the 12:25 bus from the big city.

Mei Mei Follows Her Brother

2009-08-23T20:59:00.000-07:00

Mei Mei thought is best to follow her brother to the bus terminal to greet Uncle Tu.

Di Di Waits for Uncle Tu

2009-08-23T20:55:00.000-07:00

Di Di, the youngest boy in the Chen family, agreed to go to the bus terminal to wait for Uncle Tu. He kept his eye out for hints of Exceeding Joy.

~Farewell my dear Leigh. Your brother has spotted your exceeding joy too.

~ Mama

Coral Earrings

2009-08-22T13:12:00.000-07:00

Shao Pang was very proud of her coral earrings. Many had guessed that Mr. Wang-Tu Lee had given them to her the night she sang a lovely tune during the Feast of Excited Insects. But Shao Pang was no longer sure that this gift from Uncle Tu was something to be proud of. All week, the escape and subsequent joy ride of Uncle Tu's bird, Exceeding Joy, had unleashed a string of discussions on love and freedom among the women of Wu Fung Road.

When rumors flew that Exceeding Joy had been seen on the edge of town, Shao Pang was sad. "If it were me, I would have flown ten thousand li away and never returned to sing for Uncle Tu, no matter how nice my cage. Stupid Bird."

A Good Omen

2009-08-20T13:05:00.000-07:00

Jya Lee, the eldest daughter of Mrs. Chen returned from the market and went straight to her mother to announce very good news. "I have seen Uncle Tu's song bird at the edge of town. Don't worry Mother, I am sure Exceeding Joy will return before Uncle does."

Mrs Chen sighed deeply. "Ah, my daughter. This is certainly a good omen."

Uncle Tu's Bad Trip

2009-08-19T06:43:00.000-07:00

When Uncle Tu made his journey to the big city, he would never in ten thousand years imagine that his bird, Exceeding Joy, would be lost.

~home from the big city.

No Idea

2009-08-14T15:32:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Sung's kitchen girl answered the door just before dinner. It was one of the many Chen boys stopping by to inquire if she had seen Exceeding Joy, Uncle Tu's wayward bird, flitting about.

Little Kwai answered. "I have no idea where that bird has gone. Why would you expect it ever to come back?"

~writing from New York

Suzy Sung's Choir

2009-08-11T08:05:00.000-07:00

In her youth, Mrs. Sung had sung in the Peking Opera. It was to her dismay that her husband, an official in the Kuo Ming Tang, had to flee for his life to the island of Formosa. It later became even worse, when he fell out of favor with Taipei authorities and was assigned to our small village as a magistrate. Not only did Suzy lament the loss of face, but the lack of dramatic opportunities. Still, the enterprising singer was quite successful in starting our first operatic troupe. The fact that the choir was made up mainly of members of her own household staff and a few disgruntled veterans did not diminish our enjoyment.

The only person who missed the performance of The Lonely Maiden was the Magistrate.

Miss Chen's Red Comb

2009-08-09T13:05:00.001-07:00

Chen Shiao Jye was not a fan of Uncle Tu’s bird, Exceeding Joy. The song bird, however just loved Miss Chen's shiny lacquer red comb and was drawn to it. Exceeding Joy dreamed someday of having a comb just like it.

A Warm Night

2009-08-08T10:46:00.000-07:00

Lee Shiao Jye was bored. So far, not a single customer had dropped in at the Forever Fortune Tea Room. Perhaps this was because Mrs. Soong's new opera, A Lonesome Maiden, was to be performed tonight for the first time in the courtyard of the Wu Fung Temple. Or it could also be that everyone had been preoccupied with the escape of Uncle Tu's song bird. But finally Miss Lee decided it was just too muggy to drink hot tea.

A Wife, Perhaps

2009-08-05T00:52:00.000-07:00

When Exceeding Joy, Uncle Tu's escaped bird began to sing to Lau Da, he finally understood why this song bird made the old man so love sick. He thought that perhaps he might suggest to his mother that she find Uncle Tu a wife.

Exceeding Satisfaction

2009-08-03T14:48:00.000-07:00

When Mrs. Chen's youngest daughter realized that her brother had let Uncle Tu's bird, Exceeding Joy, escape, Mei Mei could not believe her good fortune. She had been quite bitter that Uncle Tu and her mother had chosen Lau San, instead of her, to be the bird's caretaker. She could not help but feel her own exceeding joy and satisfaction. "Ha!"

Tai Tai Hears The Door

2009-08-01T07:14:00.000-07:00

Tai Tai was waiting for her neighbors to join her for a night of tea, foot massages, and mahjong. It would be a long evening of clucking and clacking.