values
Foods aren't just foods
I, was never good at eating. Of course, that was before I met my wife. I grew up in a big family, where my family members would sit around a large table on every single day for dinner. I got reminded very often, to eat more of this, and more of that. And because of it, I always finished eating earlier than the rest of my family, with a stomach that was half empty, and another half filled with foods which I did not consider very delicious. My grandparents said that I got monophagia, and that would be bad for my health.
By Haitao Ran4 years ago in Families
Who Knew The Joy of My Ancestors Was Under The Shaved Ice?
Where my parents were born, it’s hot all year ‘round. You just get hot rain or hot sunshine. Maybe the occasional typhoon. Either way, they get to eat “summer” food any time of the year. They also eat dinner for breakfast pretty often, which I am still trying to convince my friends is better than breakfast for dinner. I’d choose adobo fried rice over a yogurt parfait any morning.
By Krista Guanlao Sison-Dunlavy4 years ago in Families
4 Questions You Get When Your Book Is Called “How to Deal With Asian Parents”
The title of the book assumes that it provides the reader with a clear solution to their problems. But with any self-help, personal development, or relationship advice book, the solution lies within us.
By Katharine Chan4 years ago in Families
What Summer is Supposed to Be
From as far back as I can remember, every week in the summer ended with a bbq. Neighbors would gather on their lawns, sitting on plastic striped fold-out chairs and the tailgates of trucks. Music would stream out of windows, and grills were set up on driveways. The remnants of the day's heat vanished as the sky turned orange and purple.
By Elyse Pennington4 years ago in Families
Walking Down Memory Lane
IF YOU DON’T KNOW YOUR HISTORY YOU ARE DOOMED TO REPEAT IT. This was always the phrase used when growing up around my Pop-Pop and my dad who are complete history buffs. These two men impacted my life to become the woman that I am today. As we grow older, we sometimes forget key moments of our childhood that shaped us. I want to take a walk down memory lane and explore some of these forgotten times. I am happy that memories exist because we can always go back and relive them.
By Sidney Smith (Sid Smith)4 years ago in Families
Stay With Me, Baby
My father told me a story once about his first out of body experience. He had been young, 6 or so, the age when it seems like you shouldn't remember most things. This memory, though, remained clear as ice. It was freezing in Texas, with frost dusting the packed dirt around his family's farmhouse.
By Madi Scruggs4 years ago in Families
Black dads, ice-cream, and inflation . Top Story - June 2022.
Part of baby fever is wondering which of my parents’ stories I will tell. Children are like blank palette souls waiting to be colored by their experiences, and parents are like spirit guides who give frame of reference to every new color, shape, and texture. Thinking about which narratives I will perpetuate feels like curating my future children’s library. When my son notices that his hair is short and his sister’s is long, will I tell him the story of Genesis? Shall I give him a brief introduction to gender roles? Or maybe I will immerse him in popular culture by showing him pictures in magazines that inspired his look? Will I encourage my daughter’s anthropological curiosity by delving into the history, and even the utility of long hair? Will I explain to her that vitality and fertility is signaled by long hair? Or will I let my children’s hair both grow long and free, and wait until my son comes to ask my why he is different, and then should I choose that moment to reinforce to him that he is special? I think of the many ways my dad made me feel special.
By Vineece Verdun4 years ago in Families
A Dimension Unexplainable
I remember … Morning sunlight coming through our living room windows, forest green, gold and black design curtains drawn, thin white draperies still in place to maintain privacy. Our four bedroom home is in Pennsylvania, near Pittsburgh. Mom and Dad are over by Dad’s desk in the large open living room connected to our dining room and then kitchen. Mom is standing behind him, wearing shorts and a top, her hand on his bare shoulder. Dad is sitting in his desk chair in his briefs, no shirt, bare feet. The living room is clean, lived in, comfortable. I know my niece is asleep upstairs, and Kolohe (our dog) and Ace (our cat) are probably with her. My sisters are far away, one in Hawaii with her husband and family, and the other, my niece’s mother, is currently on the west coast flying for Delta. It’s Sunday morning. I’m awake, having gone to the restroom, and for some reason I’ve popped myself out of my room to see my parents. I can’t remember why. I do remember the sureness of love. It is strong and deep.
By Craig Rose4 years ago in Families
