My brother was the first to get wheeled vehicles in the family. He was the first to get a bicycle, first to get a motorcycle and the first to get a car. Once he got his first bike, he wouldn’t let me ride it. I thought he was being stingy, but maybe he knew I had never ridden one before. I remember a hand-me down tricycle that I tried to ride on the sidewalks on our block. The ride was a bumpy one, as the front wheel had little to no rubber on the tire. So, one morning I decided to beat my brother to the punch, so I arose from sleep before he did to take his new bike out. I walked it along the sidewalk past Baddour's, then next to the white bank building and up to the Main Street railroad crossing, as I knew it was downhill from the crossing. Thought to myself .. 'no better way to get a rolling start', since I didnt know how to pedal from a standstill. I was careful enough to make certain there was no traffic before I hopped on the bike and pushed off. The first time I crashed halfway down the incline on Main Street. Learning to keep my balance while pedaling seemed difficult, but I would then go back and try again. Unknown to me, Mr. Wise, the mayor of Hughes was watching from his drug store, which was a ring-side seat to my first failed attempts. After the third or fourth crash, he came out to ask me if I was okay and told me that I should stop trying to do it that way. I'm not sure if he was laughing at my efforts, but he didn’t try to stop me either. I told him I was fine, and I replied, “I almost got it”, so he let me be. The next try was a success. I maintained my balance and was pedaling like a ‘pro’. After that, my brother would let me ride his bike, but only after he was finished with it.
Seems
everyone's mom was the best cook in the house. Not so in my
family .. it was my Dad. He cooked everyday and introduced me to coffee
early on.
“Exploding Spaghetti”
Mom was never a very good cook. Dad did all of the cooking and he was pretty good at it. He could cook traditional Chinese dishes like steamed-fish in black bean sauce to lobster Cantonese. He could also cook American dishes such as creamed peas, fried chicken and spaghetti. Anyway, whenever Mom wanted to ‘cook’ something, she always set the burner to HIGH. We couldn’t foresee at that time .. that was her version of the microwave for extremely fast cooking. One day she decided to ‘cook’ some canned Chef-Boy-R-Dee’s spaghetti. She empties the can into a sauce pan and places the lid on, then turns the burner to HIGH. Five or six minutes later, I heard a loud explosion and the clanging of metal. I rushed to the kitchen and saw the lid on the floor and spaghetti sauce all over the wall up to the ceiling. Apparently, the lid was sealed to the pot by the over-spill of sauce from the can. It scared the crap out of her … she rarely ‘cooked’ again until years later. Whenever I was home from college and even when I visited her in New York, she would make breakfast without asking, so that by the time I was awake, it was cold, but I ate it anyway as I knew she was ‘taking care’ of me.
“Coffee with Cream and Sugar”
Another one of my earliest memories was my first drink of coffee. Again, I remembered it to be a Saturday morning, associating the hustle and bustle noises in my father’s store, and his coming and going from the store to the living quarters we called home. I was in a crib, but I don’t know or recall my age at the time. I just remember I was whining and standing in the crib. Not too much longer, he passed by into the kitchen, and returned with a baby bottle for me. I now know that it was sweetened coffee and cooled by milk. It seemed to be just what I needed and it was wonderful. That is the only way I like my coffee. I am not sure if my mother was there or not, but probably not.
Mom was never a very good cook. Dad did all of the cooking and he was pretty good at it. He could cook traditional Chinese dishes like steamed-fish in black bean sauce to lobster Cantonese. He could also cook American dishes such as creamed peas, fried chicken and spaghetti. Anyway, whenever Mom wanted to ‘cook’ something, she always set the burner to HIGH. We couldn’t foresee at that time .. that was her version of the microwave for extremely fast cooking. One day she decided to ‘cook’ some canned Chef-Boy-R-Dee’s spaghetti. She empties the can into a sauce pan and places the lid on, then turns the burner to HIGH. Five or six minutes later, I heard a loud explosion and the clanging of metal. I rushed to the kitchen and saw the lid on the floor and spaghetti sauce all over the wall up to the ceiling. Apparently, the lid was sealed to the pot by the over-spill of sauce from the can. It scared the crap out of her … she rarely ‘cooked’ again until years later. Whenever I was home from college and even when I visited her in New York, she would make breakfast without asking, so that by the time I was awake, it was cold, but I ate it anyway as I knew she was ‘taking care’ of me.
“Coffee with Cream and Sugar”
Another one of my earliest memories was my first drink of coffee. Again, I remembered it to be a Saturday morning, associating the hustle and bustle noises in my father’s store, and his coming and going from the store to the living quarters we called home. I was in a crib, but I don’t know or recall my age at the time. I just remember I was whining and standing in the crib. Not too much longer, he passed by into the kitchen, and returned with a baby bottle for me. I now know that it was sweetened coffee and cooled by milk. It seemed to be just what I needed and it was wonderful. That is the only way I like my coffee. I am not sure if my mother was there or not, but probably not.