Happy Chinese New Year!
by Jian Ping
Chicago Blizzard before the Chinese New Year!
There is a saying in Chinese: “propitious snow brings a bountiful year.” Hope that applies to the blizzard that hit Chicago on the eve of the Chinese New Year—the Year of the Rabbit! In Chinese, the start of the lunar year is called “Spring Festival,” the celebration of the upcoming spring. I’d like to put a positive spin on the over-zealous abundance of snow and interpret it as an indication of a dynamic and productive year!
The Sawyer Trail in San Francisco
I was amazed by the effectiveness of the snow removal in the city streets despite the mess of stalled cars on Lake Shore Drive, especially when compared to my nightmare experience of the snowstorm in New York City over Christmas. My husband and I were scheduled to fly to San Francisco on the lunar New Year’s Eve for a family gathering. Of course, our flight was canceled, and we were not able to fly out until the afternoon of the following day, the day of the New Year, and luckily, were able to join nine extended family members for a banquet style dinner, with the giving of red envelopes for children. Since Lisa was not there with us, I received all the money-stuffed red envelopes—indication of good luck and prosperity—on her behalf.
A traditiona New Year Dish of Oyester and Fa Chai, "Fortune"
Contrary to the cold weather in Chicago, San Francisco had a heat wave—unseasonably warm weather in the mid 70s, with plenty of sunshine. I took advantage of it by jogging outdoor each morning for an hour. My thighs were terribly sore from the pounding on the ground, which was so different from the impact of the treadmill. But I persisted despite the pains and ran every morning for the three days we were there. I knew it was silly to inflict such soreness and refuse to take a break. Yet, at the same time, I must admit it gave me a sense of satisfaction in that I demonstrated enough will and strength to carry out what I set out to do!
At the Cemetary to pay tribute to my late in-laws
One day, we hiked for a few miles on the Sawyer Trail, part of Crystal Creek Park. Another day, all the families—four of Francis’ siblings and their children—went to the cemetery where their late parents were buried. We cleaned their tombstones and presented them with fresh flowers. We stood in line and solemnly bowed to them three times, thanking them for lives and care and love they had given to us.
I felt a usual amount of energy and excitement with the start of the New Year. Even the cold air in Chicago that pierced through my coat on our way home didn’t damp that rush of exhilaration. “It’s going to be a great years!” I murmured to myself, ready to forge forward.
Happy New Year to you all, again!
Jian Ping, author of Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China. For more information, please visit www.moraquest.com, www.mulberrychild.com
