As I watched the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, it brought back my memories of taking ice skating lessons when I was a little girl in the 1970’s at Ice Land skating rink in Smyrna, GA. My jacket was adorned with dozens of skating patches and sometimes I walked around in my skates at our restaurant at Cumberland Mall!  I remember the smell of the ice arena, a mixture of exhaust fumes from the Zamboni rink machine, cork flooring and popcorn.

I liked the skating but dreaded the social atmosphere. Some of the girls were mean-spirited and snooty. They would call me names and poke fun of my clothes and gear. I wore pants instead of a skating dress and carried stuff in my dad’s old bowling ball bag. Perhaps hip now, but not cool then! I was also the last one in my group to move off of worn, brown suede rental skates. I dreamed about the day I would lace up white skates, of any brand, and I had my eye on a pair in the Sears Roebuck catalog. The skates in the skate shop were completely out of the question, costing ten times more.  The day came when Santa granted my wish on my birthday!

Years later at Vassar College, I had the opportunity to fulfill another dream – to skate like Hans Christian Andersen, outdoors on a frozen lake or river! It wasn’t smooth and I tripped on a few ice bumps and frozen branches, but it was exhilarating!

Growing Up All (Asian)-American

Cuttlefish jerky. Blood cake. Grass jelly. Beef essence. Beancurd dregs. Love jade jello. I’ve eaten all of these products and while the translation may torture product marketers, they’re some of my favorite snacks and double as great band names!

Being a Chinese Southern Belle, we spoke “Chenglish” sometimes and I’ve heard my share of American idioms gone awry, non-translatable Chinese jokes, Mandarin with a southern twang and different variations of pidgin English. While traveling in Asia, I came across some funny messages: “Salute to the tourists who keep the public hygience;” “The civilized and tidy circumstance is a kind of enjoyment;” and “Heaven destroys CCP.” What we would have called smog, was referred to as “fog” by locals in Shanghai. Hmmm….

In the spirit of Reader’s Digest and Laughter is the Best Medicine, which I grew up reading, here are a couple amusing anecdotes from our family:

“GOU, not GO!”
My sisters came home looking worried and sullen. “We wrecked Mom’s car,” said Leigh. “It was your fault. You were driving!” blurted Pearl. Leigh glared and quickly defended, “But you told me to GO!” “No,” Pearl clarified. “I said ‘GOU’ in Chinese which means ‘enough’ because we were sitting in traffic, you were distracted and our car was sliding forward. I told you, ‘enough,’ because we’re about to slide into the car in front of us!” Well, they both got grounded and as mad as my parents were about a totaled car, they couldn’t help but shake their heads and chuckle in disbelief over the bilingual mishap.

The Pants Story
We hung out a lot at Cumberland Mall growing up since that’s where our family restaurant and jade store were located. My sisters and I worked at the restaurant and often went shopping on our breaks. One day, Pearl came back to the restaurant, out of breath, and asked my dad to loan her some money, fast. “What for?” replied my dad. In Chinese, she said, “I don’t have time to explain, they’re holding my pants!” My nai-nai (grandmother on the father’s side), who didn’t speak English, overheard this and laughed in puzzlement. Well, in Chinese, “they’re holding my pants” means…they’re holding your pants! Later, my dad explained the concept of “layaway” to granny!

Stay tuned for more “Lost in Translation” tales….

Steve and my mom have been friends for almost thirty years now. He’s her “fishing buddy” but his nickname to us is Space Alien. Steve’s been by our side through four weddings and a few funerals. He is the only person I know who doesn’t eat anything at my mother’s glorious dinner parties and sometimes, brings his own roasted turkey and canned peas while we feast on a table-full of fabulous Country Pan-Asian cuisine!

About seventeen years ago, Steve bought my mom a birthday gift she’ll always remember. Not because she treasured it but because the story has been retold so many times that we all remember the gift!

According to legend, my mom opened a “mystery gift” and plugged it in. After hearing only a faint humming noise, seeing no other features and having no earthly idea what the thing was, she assumed it was broken and disappointedly, threw it in the trash. “How did you like your gift?” asked Steve. Feeling bad, my mom quickly said, “Fine” and tried to change the subject. Steve continued, “Well, I hope you’ll like it because I special ordered it from Hammacher Schlemmer and it’s been a life-saver for me.” Sheepishly, my mom asked, “What was, I mean, what is it?” Steve said it was a “sleep sound generator,” a noise blocker to help her sleep. “Ohhhhhhh!” as she dug through the trash to find the device.

After that, Steve doesn’t order gifts for Margaret anymore. Now, every year when her birthday comes around, they do the same ritual. He escorts her to the Macy’s Shiseido cosmetics counter and she picks out her favorite facial cream. He asks for the price, and upon hearing, exclaims, “for a GALLON??” He then wraps it and gives it to her after dinner. They have performed this tradition every year for the last seventeen years now. My mother is thrilled with her new Shiseido Man and no more gadgets from Steve go in the landfill!