Happy Mush Day!

(otherwise known as Valentine's Day :-))

What IS mush, anyway?

According to Wikipedia, it can be defined as:

• Mush (cornmeal), a kind of corn pudding or porridge
• Mush, slang meaning man or face.
• Mushing, a sport or transport method powered by dogs or a command to a dog team
• Muş Province, in eastern Turkey
• Muş, the provincial capital of Muş Province
• Mush, a 1992 album by the band Leatherface
• Mush Records, a Los Angeles-based independent record label
• Mush, a nickname for Pakistani president Pervez Musharraf
• Mail User's Shell, a Unix mail user agent
• MUSH, a text-based online social medium

Or, how my body has been feeling the last two weeks due to a nasty cold and the worst sore throat of my life. :-(

But those definitions are not what I prefer.

Mush, according to me, is lovey-dovey stuff. Anything romantic, super sweet, sentimental, tear-jerker quality...you get the idea.

I am a MUSHMEISTER! :-D

So on this mushy day, a.k.a. Valentine's Day, I dedicate this post to mush and things mushy, because I am a die-hard mushmeister and proud of it, too.

Others may wince, roll their eyes, spew out sarcastic remarks, or worse, at my melting heart tendencies, but do I care? Of course not! I have to remind myself from time to time that life is too short to worry about other people's opinions of me.

Hubby will always tease me if he catches me getting emotional during certain scenes in a movie, and I will blurt out: "Leave me alone!". I can't help it: I love romantic things!

Now, I do have my limits, such as with certain romance novels which I may find cheaply mass-produced, with little or no substance.

That's why I love classics. Like the works of Shakespeare, as well as the works of the artists, poets, novelists and composers who were part of the romanticism movement of the 18th and 19th centuries. Their words, music, and art can take your imagination to great heights, great places! They certainly have been--and continue to be, a source of comfort and joy to me. :-)

Mush can be a syrupy sweet photo of puppy dogs or kittens or (my fave) baby panda bears. Mush can be a photo of cute babies. Mush doesn't have to be a photo at all. It can be seeing two lovebirds walk past you.

Spontaneous mush is best! I'm not into the contrived sort where little pets (human and otherwise) are dressed up for a studio portrait. Then again, something like movies are a contrived medium. I'd say anything that can make my heart swell or make my eyes well up is mushY!

My top three mush movies? "It's A Wonderful Life", "The Sound of Music" and "Annie Hall". The last one isn't particularly outwardly syrupy, but it's still romantic, regardless of what you think of Woody Allen movies.

And my top mush novels: Jane Eyre, Anna Karenina, and Middlemarch.

How about mushy men? I hope that's not oxymoronic--men tend not to be mushy...I've yet to meet one, though not being mushy doesn't dictate that one can't be affected by an emotional scene! I'm talking about leading men on the silver screen who make women swoon from imagined love and lord knows what else.

My favorite: Sean Connery (yes, I'm a Bond junkie). There's others, but I can't think of them now...they come and go!

Mush is best shared with a significant other! It's somewhat alien to my honey, but he knows it's part of me and I'm here to stay...so there--take it or leave it, dude. ;-b What man in his right mind would resist showers of MUSH on Valentine's Day, anyway? Lots of love and kisses go a long way. You don't need a special day to spread your mush!

Just so I don't forget to tell you: I love that other "mush", too. The one called oatmeal. I have it every morning with ground flaxseed and vanilla yogurt. Helps keep me healthy.

So you see, MUSH and "mush" are both really good for your heart and health. :-)

Here's to mush--plus more than enough to last several lifetimes in your lifetime!

* * * * *

Oh Lift Me!

Oh lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love and kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast:~
Oh! Press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.

--Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822

The Grim Reaper Strikes Again

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.

- From a headstone in Ireland



My Auntie M--my mom's second eldest sister, passed away today. :-( It just seemed too quick, since her diagnosis in September. I thought she was supposed to have at least six months, according to her doctors.

Auntie M and Uncle B were married for over 50 years. They had no children. I imposed myself on them 21 years ago, one summer, while I was trying to graduate on time by taking a couple of intensive, three-week, quick and dirty get-it-over-with summer courses at San Francisco State U. (Not my regular college). I stayed six weeks. I'm sure it was hard on them, having had no children and not being used to company.

I felt like I was under a microscope the entire time, with Auntie M reporting my every move, word, and habit to my mother! %-0 Despite our difficulties, I came to realize Auntie M was a good-hearted person. She may have been seemingly hypercritical, judgmental, and intolerant of others at times, but she really had a good heart. :-)

Auntie M makes the fourth person in the family we've lost this year. In January, it was a dear family friend. In March, my favorite uncle. In April, a young cousin (who survived a year after being diagnosed with a brain tumor). And now, Auntie M.

Can we have a break from all this sadness, which also includes loved ones on both sides of the family who've been diagnosed with cancer this year??

When I read things like: death is part of life, I do NOT disagree. But that doesn't make it any less painful for the ones who lost someone dear in their lives, by any measure.

I'm not a religious person, so I am not going to talk about God. My feelings are ambivalent about Her (!) at best. I go to God when I'm feeling desperate, like going for junk food when I have no other choice in front of me. No wonder sailors curse God all the time. Or pray fervently to God. They are sailing on rough waters that seem to have no end in sight.

(To those shocked by my reference to HER, I ask: DO YOU IN FACT KNOW that God is a HE, not a SHE?)

When I think of death, I think of an image seen too many times in film: the image of a robed, hooded person whose face you can't see, with a sickle in hand--used for digging your grave.

The last time I encountered the Grim Reaper, it was when I had my one and only car accident en route to work one morning. A slippery bridge...my car went out of control, and I ricocheted across the bridge. Good thing no one was on it except me. It was 5:45 in the morning or so. Yes, I used to work crazy hours like that for too many years!

Hubby asked later why I didn't use the emergency brakes. Well, dear, it's kind of hard to remember that when you think that this is THE END. When you suddenly see your life flash before you. When you try to remember at what point do you open your car door and escape when your car flips over into the water (which I was sure that was going to happen, but never did)?

The first time I thought I had met Mr. GR was a decade ago, after an operation to remove ovarian cysts, and I felt so utterly miserable that I almost didn't care AT ALL if I woke up again or not. I was SO completely overwhelmed with nausea. Yech!

I've escaped him twice now. I know you can't choose your time, and I've had more ailments throughout my lifetime than I can count on my fingers and toes together. My family can attest to that! But each time I get knocked down with something, I allow myself a little pity party, and then force myself to move on. Do whatever I have to do to get over this situation.

I'll be damned if I let the Grim Reaper get anywhere near me: I'll fight HIM tooth and nail as long as I have my faculties intact! (Yes, a him. How could such an unpleasant character be a woman?!)

I did have a couple close calls in the last year with a monster Mack truck and also a pick-up truck (the driver was looking right AT me! Or was it through me?) while crossing the street on foot. The Grim Reaper can show up anywhere!

I am the baby on both sides of the family. I came later in my parents' lives (for the 60's) and all my grandparents were products of the 19th century. I was very young when three of them passed away in succession within a year and a half or so. I had just barely started school--no later than the beginning of 1st grade when the last of the three died.

I didn't know them well, but I have a good photographic memory of them. AND their funerals. I think seeing a lot of death in a short period of time and being very young has had a big impact on me in ways I haven't quite figured out yet.

My mom was also having health problems at the time, but I didn't know it--or maybe I did at the time but didn't ask. And wasn't told. That's just how things were then.

I do know that I don't get freaked like some people do when others die. Maybe they haven't seen death close up before, I don't know. It's never, never easy, no matter how many times I've seen death. I had two friends who sat next to each other at my wedding banquet; both were gone the next month. And of course I fell apart at their funeral and memorial service. :-(

When someone I cared about leaves this world, it certainly makes me reflect on their life. Was it a life well-lived? How did he or she survive war and manage life's dark moments? Then I think about my life. Am I living the best way I can, according to my desires and goals first, rather than according to the expectations/conventions of society? What can I do better to achieve and surpass my own expectations? There is always room for improvement, yes indeed! ;-0

Death may be lurking in the distant future, but I intend to live my life as fully as possible, on my terms, pursuing the activities and ideas I value, standing firm for my convictions, and not being afraid of those who may vehemently disagree with me. We'll just have to agree to disagree. ;-)

Oh, one other thing: I don't like wearing black at all. It reminds me of funerals, death. Black looks great on other people. It looks cool. Sophisticated. I'll wear black trousers if need be, like for work or if it's too cold to wear a dress, but if I don't have to, I won't. Because black represents death and cold, vast emptiness to me.

I'd rather wear my favorite color, RED: a color symbolizing life...vibrancy...warmth!

Rest in peace, Auntie M. I'll never forget what a good heart you possessed and my brief time with you and Uncle B. :-)

Cheers to the Moms of the World!

A mother had a slender, small body, but a large heart -- a heart so large that everybody's grief and everybody's joy found welcome in it, and hospitable accommodation.

--Mark Twain

Happy Mother's Day to my mom, my mother in-law, and all the moms of the world! :-)

Mom. Ma. Mama. Mommy. Mother. I've called my mom all those and still do, to this day. "Mother" is used least; I might use it jokingly, but to my ears it sounds too formal and lacks warmth. She has done everything for me that society expects of a mom: fed, clothed, washed, and nursed me back to health the numerous time I was sick. She was always there to open the door for me when I walked home from elementary school, and walked home from the bus stop during my junior and senior high school (although I was allowed to have a key to the house by 8th grade or so and let myself into the house).

My mom has a good listening ear and loves to chatter on the phone. Like me. ;-) She has such a huge heart for a small person. It seems a lot people rely on her...even people whom I'm sure she'd prefer they not rely upon her all the time. This must mean they trust her as someone whom they can confide their troubles to.

She has always done her best to cheer me up when I've been blue, she cheers with me when I've done well, gives me advice from time to time on matters big and small, and is probably, generally, concerned about her youngest daughter's health and well-being in more ways than I can fathom.

This is not to say we didn't have rough spots along the way. But thankfully, there haven't been too many of those. ;-) I admire my mom for who she is and for what she has done for her family, despite difficult circumstances. I think my mom is one of the few people in the world who doesn't have one mean bone in her body.

My mil (mother in-law) has always been Mom to me. I love her dearly, too! Like my mom, she has a huge heart and it seems to me that over the years, many of her friends and acquaintances rely on her good listening ear. I doubt she has one mean bone in her body, either. She has always been loving and kind towards me, from the day we met. She often gives of herself to others, whether they are in need or not. She's a great friend to me and to her own friends. I wouldn't want any other mother in-law! :-)

Moms are cool! I often find myself drawn towards women who are moms. I don't know if it's because I'm on the east coast and my mom is on the west coast, but I do have many friends and acquaintances who happen to be moms.

I think I am drawn to moms because I generally admire mothers. They do SO much! They are SO underappreciated! There was a time in my life when I wanted nothing more than to be a mom. To bear my own baby. But since that didn't quite work out, I decided to make my life's work "my baby". Bear other fruit, as hubby would say. I still admire moms and cute and cuddly babies. ;-)

I've heard of "bad" mothers and mothers in-law over the years from friends. I lucked out. Big time. ;-) Ones who badgered and belittled their daughters for not getting "A"s in all their classes, or who loudly bemoaned the fact they only had daughters, not sons. Or mothers in-law who were meddlesome, opinionated, and/or described as "the Iron Lady" (to put it mildly!). That's just a short list! Since I did not know these women and perhaps only met a few of them on a few brief encounters during my school years, I cannot relate.

I can however relate with those friends when they expressed--sometimes bitterly, the profound disappointment that their mothers conveyed to them in whatever they had done wrong. With Asian friends, the sense of shame was present, without a doubt. If there is anything negative to be said about our Asian mommies, it's that they have elevated the expression of disappointment into a look that says: how could you shame me/the family/yourself like this?, to an art form! %-0

The first time I experienced the gravity of my mother's disappointment was when I got in trouble in 3rd grade for talking when the teacher was talking. My best friend tried to get my attention--not once, but twice, to stop talking. The third time, my teacher said my name, and not in the most pleasant manner!

Uh oh! Busted!

I had to write: I will not talk in class when the teacher is talking, on one of those big, beige-colored and blue-lined papers and fill the whole page up. And have my parents sign it.

Drum roll, please...!

Of course, I went to my mom first. I tried to plead with her to pu-leeeze not let Daddy see it. I was all too aware of what he might do; I was afraid of him. Please?! But she just gave me The Look. She looked at the paper, and then looked at me. A few times over. It was The Look, alright. "Why? How could you do this? I'm very disappointed in you! I think you need to show this to your father."

Aww, shucks! It didn't work. It was more my mother's LOOK, than what she said, that pierced me. I can't explain it now, nor could I then, but I was thinking I was a pretty clever girl and thought I could wrap my pop around my fingers by being humorous in some bizarre way. I folded up the paper, then asked him, "Daddy! Can I have your autograph?"

HAHAHAHA! %-0

That didn't work either. WWIII broke out in the form of his fury. He was so angry the paper shook in his hands. He yelled and cussed me out for what seemed like forever, but was probably about 15 minutes or so, demanding I never do such a thing again.

Well, I didn't do that again: talking in class while the teacher was talking. However, in 7th grade, I got caught writing on the wall! Red-handed. A classmate who I knew since 4th grade and with whom I shared a mutual hatred of each other, made fun of my teeny-bopper poster of a pop star in my locker and all his friends laughed along with him. I was SO angry with him! So I wrote on the wall: "I hate W--- I-------!" when along came an older man with a shiny bald head.

He boomed: "YOUNG LADY! You erase that right now or I'll have the front office call your parents". So I did. Oooh! He was scary. He said he'd let me off the hook this time, but if he caught me again...sorry, Charlie!

So he spared me The Look from my mother and my father's wrath. But, boy oh boy, I paid for it the following year: that big, gruff, bald man became my math teacher in 8th grade!! And my mom, who never once missed a parent-teacher conference in all my 12 years of school, met with him, too. I was hoping he wouldn't fib on my grafitti job--hoping he'd forget because he was an old guy (such age discrimination on my part!), and I believe he never did since I was always present with my mom on those parent-teacher evenings.

Enough of my delinquency! That's another thing about my mom: she never missed a beat when it came to my education. There were many times, especially as I got older, that I wanted her not to attend those parent-teacher evenings. Most especially in high school! I even asked her once or twice if she wouldn't mind skipping the evening, to which she looked at me disapprovingly and replied, "Of course I'm going!" And then she and I would go to school--and my classmates and I would exchange knowing glances as if to say: yes, we are forced to be here with our mothers...this is most certainly torture of the highest order! time to be raked over the coals! the inquisition! you got a B? oh, too bad...so close to an A! try harder next time! %-0

Funny how the number of mothers dwindled as years passed on. It was the norm in elementary school for our moms to show up on those all-important parent-teacher evenings. Then slowly, through junior high and then senior high, the presence of moms lessened. However, die-hard moms like mine--and especially of my Asian classmates, never failed to show up! Let us all share in this evening of embarrassment and torture under the microscopic lenses of our mothers, while they gang up on us with our teachers! %-(

Now, of course, we can all say, our moms loved us so much! A mother's love can manifest in ways we may never understand! %-)

I try to call my mom every week to see how she is. She is the kind of mom who has to live forever. I told her that, too. "If I'm 100 years old, you have to live to be 100 and....years!" I want my mil to be around when I'm old, too!

Mothers are an integral part of my life. My mom. My mom in-law. My friends who've been like moms to me over the years. My friends who are moms. They are excellent role models as moms and as women, in general.

I love them and I need them! :-)

Missing Uncle T & Auntie L

There is a void in my heart that cannot be filled by anyone but the person who just left it. And yet, he will always be in my heart.

How contradictory does that sound?

It's been almost a week since my Utimate Uncle's funeral...and I still get wet-eyed every time I think of him. The same thing happened when my beloved aunt passed away in '89. Except now, the pain is greater because they are now both gone. :-((

I have been to more funerals than I can count with my fingers, since I was five years old. Grandparents, relatives, and friends. The deaths of Auntie L and Uncle T have been among the most emotional funerals for me--and I daresay, my siblings, because they were SO much a part of my life. They were ONE. An awesome couple. Action-oriented! Achievement-oriented! A +++++++ extraordinary cooks! They had an ample supply of love for both sides of their families and friends!

I cannot sing enough praises about them nor will I ever want to stop . It just seemed they did everything together. But they also did a lot on their own. Life without them definitely won't be the same. What's Christmas without them?

When the slide show was presented at the closing of the funeral service for Uncle T, it was almost unbearable. There were some great photos, especially of his youthful days, yet all the memories came flowing back into my mind in a flood. And my salty tears flooded down my already wet face.

This is really the first time in my youthful life (!) that I have felt a real, deep loss. Not that the losses of my grandparents, relatives and friends were not important. Not by any means. Only that my beloved uncle and aunt were such an integral part of my life from the time I was a baby. Before I even knew who they were.

It is a strange feeling to feel an aching emptiness. That two people who were so much a part of my life are no longer here. I can't reach out to touch them. Hug them. Kiss them. Call them up. Or write them a letter. It's a terrible ache. Where are you two?

When Auntie L passed, I had many dreams about her. That she came back into our lives. And that we would have to let her go back to sleep again each evening. :-( I dreamed this for many years. She still "visits" me in very vivid dreams from time to time. With Uncle T, I hear his voice in my head, now. Possibly a reminder to me to strive for excellence in both personal and professional pursuits? I believe there can be no better person to emulate. :-)

This April 18 would have been their 71st wedding anniversary. Wow. :-) Our great loss is their great gain: they are together again. Forever. And forever they will remain in my heart.

Auntie L and Uncle T: I can think of few other people who have so consistently demonstrated their love to others in all the possible ways that love can be shown, as you two did, in my time knowing you. Most importantly, I saw how you loved each other. That, in and of itself, was the greatest gift you gave to me.

********

Sonnet from the Portuguese XLIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and Ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning 1806-61

The Ultimate Uncle

Uncle T was like no other man I've met or known in my life. He was the Ultimate Uncle: the kind of relative every person would love to have. Why?

For a thousand reasons, and then some. He was a gentleman, for one. More precisely, he treated women with respect, whether he liked them or not. And for the most part, one would never know if he disliked someone unless he told you privately, among friends or family members. If anything, he was the type to comment on someone's behavior or character trait, rather the the person.

The fact that he treated women with respect speaks volumes about him. That part of him, of course, means a lot to me. It means he was a great role model. Someone I could trust, as well as respect--and not just because of age, as I was taught. Uncle T was a model whom I could measure the character of my future spouse upon.

He loved my Auntie L dearly. Auntie L, one of my father's older sisters, was my favorite aunt...which therefore forever makes him my favorite uncle! They were generous with their love to my siblings and myself, and, I'm certain, to many of their relatives and friends. They had no children of their own.

They took me to many places, introduced me to their friends, spoiled me with birthday parties with my friends when I was young, encouraged me to do well in all I endeavored, were always, always interested in my activities, and had high hopes for me. They loved me!:-) Probably more than I have ever been aware of. But I was secure in their love.

Even after Auntie L passed away from cancer in '89, Uncle T didn't cease to show his love for me/us, just because we were on her side of the family. The two of them had spent every single Christmas with us as far as I can remember. Christmas was not Christmas without their presence on Christmas Eve! After she was gone, he still continued to spend many holidays with us.

He even continued to write letters to me! The last one I have is from last month. I have letters dating from 1973 from both of them. That's 34 years' worth of correspondence! It belongs in my "special collections" library of letters! ;-D The two of them took turns writing to me, although for the most part, it was Auntie L until she became very ill.

Uncle T did SO much in his lifetime! He was the eldest of 10 children. A founding father of Pi Alpha Phi, the first Asian American Interest Fraternity (founded in 1926). A WWII vet, a Master Mason and Shriner, active golfer for decades with many trophies, world traveler, volunteer for the Shriner's Burn Center for Children in Sacramento, gourmet chef extraordinaire for his family, advisor to family and friends. Hmm...I know I'm missing a lot! That was probably the tip of the iceberg.

Just a few years ago, in response to receiving my plane itinerary and tenative plans for my visit with my family, I remember him writing me, "Your schedule matches my calendar!" Ladies and gents: this man's calendar was just about filled with black ink, for every day of the week, whether he attended to his activities or not!

He was THE diplomat! He never, to my memory, belittled anyone. If he didn't like something you did--such as me rejecting tomatoes he served when I was very young, he would say something like, "Are you sure? You might like them if you try". Never anything like, you stupid kid: EAT!

And he was a tease. Once, I grabbed the bill at a restaurant because I was curious to read it (must have been during early elementary school years!); Uncle T had a mischevious grin on his face, and exclaimed, "Oh! Thank YOU for offering to pay for me and Auntie L!" Oops!

I cannot ever remember him cursing or losing his temper. He might have a grave look about him if he was disappointed about something or someone, but he still was thoughtful--skillfully assessing the situation and choosing his words carefully. I don't know that I ever heard a sarcastic tone come from him. He was able to state his opinions without being aggressive. Sometimes he'd chuckle, "heh heh heh", after commenting on something, usually not too positive. I suppose that was his buffer of diplomacy.;-)

Uncle T was a member of the Toastmaster's Club for some time. I don't recall how long, but he wanted to be a better speaker. I remember him telling me that he would get points off every time he said, "Um"! If I picked up any tricks of the trade he shared with me from his time with them, it was to leave out ummmm!

He left us early Wednesday morning, the day after his 97th birthday. I imagine a lot of people were hoping he'd hang on to at least 100. I know I did. But he wanted to go. Really go. I take some comfort that he is now with Auntie L. Yet that doesn't take away the pain of the loss that I and his family feel.

He left such an impact on my life. Many lives. He lived long and well. An inspiration to me to live my life as fully as possible, for as long as possible.

Uncle T...I miss you so much. :-( I cried on the bus 2x yesterday. There's gap you've left because you were present in my life from the very beginning, sharing your love generously and unconditionally. EVERYONE needs an uncle like you! You're the ultimate!

********

A Light Exists In Spring

By Emily Dickinson

A light exists in spring
Not present on the year
At any other period.
When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad
On solitary hills
That science cannot overtake,
But human nature feels.

It waits upon the lawn;
It shows the furthest tree
Upon the furthest slope we know;
It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step,
Or noons report away,
Without the formula of sound,
It passes, and we stay:

A quality of loss
Affecting our content,
As trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a sacrament.