Smeared Type

By Jian Ping

Waking up early this moving, I made a mental list of things I needed to do for today’s party—our annual party for the celebration of July 4^th and the joy of watching fireworks along the lake from our balcony.

I went for my routine morning swim at 6 A.M. and was pleased to see a number of American flags on display around the rooftop garden by the pool. I remember the first time the flag touched me to the core. It was right after 9/11. I was on a business trip in Boston. After four days’ attempts to reschedule a flight back to Chicago, I picked up a rental car and drove all the way back. I don’t think I had ever seen so many American flags in my life—residential houses, gas stations, restaurants and stores—American flags waved in the air, in defiance against to the attach on the nation. The juxtaposition of the two World Trade Tower collapsing and the American flags standing high and up brought tears to my eyes. It was the first time I felt so strongly to be part of America, to identify with America.

The American flag has taken a personal meaning of strength, defiance, and justice to me ever since.

Today, we will have close to two dozen of friends at our party—Chinese and Americans—to celebrate the country that provides security and abundance for us and an enriched life I would never have dreamed of as a mulberry child.  

Jian Ping, author of Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China. For more information, visit www.moraquest.com, www.mulberrychild.com

By Jian Ping

Birthday Celebration

On Saturday, I allowed myself to be indulged in a birthday celebration that marked the start of another decade. My daughter Lisa and husband Francis arranged the activities for the day: a brunch in Gold Coast, a leisure afternoon at my will, a delicious dinner at cibomatto in the newly opened Wit Hotel, and an evening show at the Goodman Theatre, the Sins of Sor Juana, a bit heavy, but a joy to watch because of the wonderful story and great performance.

All along, however, the fact that the first number of my age increased by a digit made me conscious, if not outright nervous. From time to time, I announced the big number out loud. Lisa and Francis laughed, good-naturally. “Mom, you have good genes,” Lisa offered her comfort. “People will continue to make the remark that you look like my sister.”

I selected a large, tea-colored Swarovski crystal necklace for her to remember the once-in-a-life-time year when my age doubles hers. Or maybe just for the sweet words she said and the time and attention she gave me—it had been a treat to be with her when she is busy like a butterfly with her job and social life.

 I know I’m blessed with good health and energy. I still feel young and have remained active. But the increase in number is a disconcerting reality nevertheless.   

On Sunday, Francis and I joined our partners at the racquetball court for our routine weekend doubles games at the University of Chicago. In the women’s locker room, the conversation I had with a woman who played handball suddenly flashed up in my mind. It was several weeks before. Right at the bench I was standing, I saw two handball gloves on top of a gym bag and a middle-aged woman drying her hair. For years, I had not seen another woman at the handball/racquetball courts. I struck up a conversation and was totally taken by surprise when she told me she was 72, a retired nurse, and had been playing handball for more than 50 years. “I used to play competitively in college,” she said. She looked fit and nowhere close to her age. It happened that our path never crossed because of our different schedule.

Francis, me, and Lisa

I would have guessed she was in her early 50s if she didn’t proudly announced her age.

Suddenly I felt better—the power of a role model.

I still have decades to look forward to and live a fulfilling and active life.

I texted Lisa to tell her that I was determined to make the new decade a better and happier one!  

Jian Ping, author of Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China. For more information, visit www.mulberrychild.com, or www.moraquest.com

By Jian Ping

Last Friday, Chicago celebrated the Blackhawks’ championship with love, passion and style. Reportedly two million people came out for the parade under the hot blazing sun and more than a hundred people had to be treated for heat inflicted complications.

I have to admit I was not a big fan of hockey—I didn’t go to Michigan Avenue, nor did I go out to buy a Hawks Championship T-shirt. I worked at my desk all day on Friday. The bright sunshine bothered me so much that day that I installed a thick curtain in my study over the weekend. But last Friday, when the heat cooled off substantially in the evening, I took my bike out for a ride on the lakefront trail—I needed to breathe some fresh air and stretch my limbs.

I peddled way south, dodging the assaults of small flies that moved in mid air in swarms. By the time I turned back, the city was cast in magnificent night lights. As I turned the corner from behind the Shed Aquarium, three signs of lights came into view and caught me by surprise. One was: Championship 2010, Hawks on the Blue Cross Blue Shield Building, and the other two were a big logo of the Blackhawks on the east side of CNA Plaza, matched by a huge image of the Standley Cup on the south side. I hit the brakes and jumped off the bike. Admiring the magnificent sight, I felt the dynamics and pulse of the city right there and then. It was not unusual to see tall buildings such as the Avon or Prudential posting signs for special occasions. But I was deeply touched that evening!

“Go Hawks!” and “Go Chicago!” I wanted to shout.

Jian Ping, author of Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China. For more information, visit www.mulberrychild.com, www.moraquest.com

Moon Cakes

Yesterday was the Moon Festival. Several countries in Asia celebrate the festival. In China, it is also called the Mid-Autumn Festival. The closest equivalent in the U.S. that I can think of is Thanksgiving. Moon Festival is an occasion for the celebration of harvest. It is a time for families and friends to get together.  

The Moon Festival is the 15^th day of August in lunar calendar, which falls in late September or early October in Gregorian calendar. Traditionally, one item that everyone shares at this time is the moon cake, a round shaped, sweet cake made of flour and a variety of stuffing. Supposedly the moon is the fullest at this time.

When I was a child, the Moon Festival was always an occasion I was looking forward to. A moon cake was a big treat, and my mother usually cut one into six small pieces for my siblings and I to share. If we were lucky, there would a box of four moon cakes with different stuffing: red bean paste, lotus seed paste, five different nuts, or one of the above mixed with egg yolk. My favorite was always the red bean. I remember we picked a small piece and nibbled on it, relishing every bite. Sometimes, we also made paper lanterns. When night fell, we placed small candles inside the lanterns and lit them up. We ran around under the full moon, with these self-made lanterns in hands. The flickering of the candle light brightened our excited faces.

Then the Cultural Revolution came. It smashed everything that was considered “traditional” and “old.” For years, there was no celebration, moon cakes, or lanterns.

I am glad those “revolutionary” days are over. Today, many people in China and abroad celebrate the Festival. Families gather together, and friends give nicely packaged moon cakes as gifts. When I called my mother to wish her a happy Moon Festival yesterday, I was pleased to learn all my sisters and their husbands went home, to celebrate the Festival with her. I wish I could be there with them.

 Jian Ping, author of Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China. www.mulberrychild.com