Like a Weed

It’s official; Annika is now taller than her mother.

She's taken to calling her mom “Shorty.”

-Jack

Enough Already

I love Christmas. The lights, the tinsel, the gifts. I love decorating the tree and being together with loved ones. December 25th is the best.

But when it’s done, it’s done.

Note to Park N Shop: when I shuffled down to your store at 9:40 a.m. on New Year’s morning in my flip flops and bedhead to buy a liter of milk and box of cereal before my girls wake up, I do not want to hear Bing Crosby crooning “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas”.

Also, it’s time to take down the cardboard Santa cutouts taped to your front doors.

-Jack

New Year Fireworks: You be the Judge

Bruce Lee on the Waterfront

Happy New Year

As the door closed on the elevator, I asked our group of ten adults and kids “Are we sure this is what we really want to do?” Since this was everyone’s first New Year in Hong Kong, we had decided that we had better bite the bullet and do the Hong Kong-y thing and head down to the waterfront to watch the fireworks over Victoria Harbor. Sure there would be massive crowds, but we would get to see a world-class fireworks display.

The original talk had been to leave about 8:30 p.m.. But 8:30 came and went. We then talked about getting on the road at 9:00. But 9:00 o’clock came and went. I think that we were all postponing the inevitable. We all wanted to do this, but just not for any longer than we absolutely had to. Eventually, we got ourselves mobilized just before 10:00 p.m.

As we stepped out of the train station and turned the corner, we met a massive throng of people.

This could only mean one thing: that the main viewing area along the waterfront promenade was already at capacity. We found a small trickle of people snaking its way through the mass of bodies and heading to the east. We fell in line. We veered left and headed for a secondary but equally promising location.

Knowing where to go was not a problem; we just followed the lava-flow of people. After hopping over a few barricades and traipsing through a hotel’s landscaping, we finally got ourselves to the waterfront. It wasn’t the prime location, but it would give us a great view of the firworks exploding above the harbor with the Hong Kong skyscrapers all lit up in Christmas colors in the background. It was after 11:00 and we had less than our hour to wait for the big show. Perfect.

Over a sea of dark hair, I could see the Bruce Lee statue less than a hundred meters away. Cool, I thought, I’ll be ringing in the new decade with the Master himself.
Midnight arrived. Six or seven of the tallest buildings on the island shot off a synchronized round of roman candles from their rooftops. They were blue. When those were done, they shot off a round of red roman candles. Then came the green roman candles. Then, purple. Then there was a pause. My friend started to mumble under his breath.

“No, no.” I assured him, “That was just the prelude. They are just getting warmed up. After all, the Chinese invented fireworks.” Mumble, grumble. “Prelude,” I assured him. “Prelude.”

And then there was nothing.

Nothing except for a slowly growing tide of Hong Kongers reversing direction and walking past me. Seriously, that was it? No big firework balls exploding in the sky above Victoria harbor? No squiggling red fireworks cascading down? No big booms? No “Ooohs” and “Aaaahs” from the tens of thousands of spectators?

Nope. The whole thing was over and done with in less than three minutes.

Come to think of it, of those buildings across the way with scrolling neon signs, not one of them flashed a countdown to the New Year. There wasn’t any raucous applause or hooting and hollering at midnight. No one broke into a rousing rendition of “Auld Lang Syne.” There had been no noise makers. No silly hats. The ten of us stood there not sure what to do next. I heard my friend whisper under his breath “Prelude. Yeah, right.”

As the crowd thinned, I had a clear view of the Bruce Lee statue. Well, we could at least redeem the evening in part by going to pay tribute to The Dragon.

It was night and the light was low, but as I looked at the statue of Bruce Lee, he didn’t seem to have his usually bravado. He looked a little more chagrinned than usual. As I looked him in the eyes, he seemed to be saying “Yeah, sorry about that.” Apparently, he wasn’t all that impressed with the show his hometown had put on either.

“Its okay, Bruce. I am still glad that we came down. It was fun. And hey, I’m glad that I got to see you.”

As I started to walk away, I turned for one last view of the harbor. Bruce seemed to have regained a little bit of his bravado.

An hour later, we were back at our apartment. I took out my “273 Things to Do Before I Die” list. Let’s see: Run with the bulls at Pamplona, hike the Appalachian Trail . . . ah, there it is: Ring in the New Year while watching fireworks over Victoria Harbor.

Check.

Done.

Boy, I ‘m glad that’s over with.

I certainly hope that Big Wall every one keep talking about comes closer to matching the hype.

-Jack

Apparent the fireworks over Hong Kong photograph well.

This from my mother: Last night I saw a picture of Hong Kong on the tv with all their fireworks. Looks like they do it big over there by you. Did you see any of it?

And this in from my Aunt Joyce: Our paper had the photo of the week. It was a picture of fire works over or near the airport in Hong Kong. Did you see it? It had a big neon sign with "2010"!

Happy Holid . . . I mean Merry Christmas

Over the years, out of deference to my Jewish students, and my occasional Hindu and Muslim students at the public school in Lake Zurich, I trained myself to refer to it as “Winter Break.”

Now that I teach in a Christian school, “Winter Break” seems a little unnecessarily vague. I’ve been trying to refer to it as Christmas break.

I haven’t always been successful.

A twenty-year habit is a hard one to break.

-Jack

New Christmas Duvet Covers and Wall Art

I (still) Do

December 30, 2009

Twenty years ago today, Julie and I were married.

Where did the time go? It seems like just a few years ago that I was a deskie at her dorm at Calvin College and she came to the counter to check out a football.

While still dating, we went to Calvin’s Broene Counceling center to take the Meyers-Brigg temperament test (hey, I had no money and it was a cheap date). The councilor who read the oracle bones –I mean, who interpreted our test results- said that I was the one in the relationship who would have my head in the clouds and would be thinking of what could be. Julie on the other hand would be the one who had her feet squarely planted on terra firma. That councilor could not have been more spot on.

I haven’t always been the easiest guy to live with. Julie is a saint. She is patient, loving, and long-suffering. She is a godly woman. She never ceases to amaze me with her wisdom and her insights.

A few years after we were married, we found ourselves sitting across the table from a very godly man whom we had only known for a few hours. When Julie stepped out of the room for a few minutes, he leaned in and said to me “Young man, you married up.”

Less than an hour later, I made one of the biggest mistakes of my married life. In the car on the way home, I repeated what he had said.

Julie has never let me forget it.

But that’s okay. I couldn’t agree more.

Here’s looking at a twenty more years of love and adventure.

-Jack

In the Nursing Home

Chinese Nursing Home part 2 of 2

To break the ice, I asked one of the staff members if it would be alright if I had my picture taken with a few of the residents. So I squatted down between two of the residents and had Annika take my picture. I also took the opportunity to shake a few hands and wish some of our new friends a Merry Christmas. I was hoping this would help everyone –my girls included- to feel a little more comfortable. I’m afraid though that it just made them more embarrassed. I’m sure the reindeer antlers I was wearing didn’t help matters.

I resumed my position on the wall between Annika and Elise. Just in case they weren’t sure whether they were having a good time or not, I leaned over to them and said “Man, this is fantasti . . . .” I stopped mid-syllable. Gasp. When did this happen? When did I turn into my father? Always the consummate promoter. If I was expecting a toothy grin and a thumbs up from either one of them, I didn’t get it. I did get two pair of rolled eyes though.

And then all the residents who were ambulatory were in place and the caroling began. The coordinators from our church had given each of us a small English-language booklet with the lyrics and had given the residents the same little booklet but with the words in Cantonese.

Normally, out of respect to those around me in church, I sing softly. I have been told I could be the poster boy for tone-deafness. But I figured that I was in a room full of people with hearing aids who didn’t know English and who may or may not be familiar with these tunes. My girls are used to being embarrassed by me in public no matter what I do. And our friends, well they would just have to deal with it. I let ‘er rip. I was hoping the residents would appreciate quantity over quality.

After four or five carols, one of the young women from our church read the Christmas story in Cantonese. Normally, proselytizing like this would not be permitted in a government-run nursing home, but this was Christmas time and the telling of the Christmas story was not only permitted, but expected. Our friends’ young sons held up the laminated illustrations that went with the story and slowly swept them from left to right so that everyone could get a good look.

With the story finished, we fanned out and delivered to each resident gift bags that the church had provided. In Chinese culture, it is customary to not open gifts while guests are still around. Gifts are usually opened after the party is over. We broke with Chinese tradition though and sat next to each resident and opened their gift bags with them. Item by item, we showed them the little hand towels, tooth brushes, hand moisturizer, toothpaste and other various sundries we had brought them. While most of them probably didn’t speak much English, we smiled, looked them in the eye, and spoke to them as if the understood every word we said. We made sure to wish each of them “A Merry Christmas” before we moved on to the next resident.

In the back of the nursing home, I noticed that one lady who was either asleep or on strong medication or simply a little out of it, had not received a gift. I tip-toed in. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open. I knelt down next to her bed and quietly said “Merry Christmas. We brought you a few small gifts.” I set her gift bag on her nightstand. “May God bless you.” She didn’t stir. I tried to exit as quietly as I had entered.

Back in them main room, one resident in a brown striped blouse had had a scowl on her face the whole time. Even the gift bag hadn’t helped. In fact, it seemed to be causing a conflict between her and the lady next to her. The lady in the brown striped blouse kept trying to push her gift bag onto her neighbor who didn’t want it.

We had just enough time to sing one more song. I noticed that during our closing song, Julie was smiling at and sing to the lady in the brown striped blouse. I never really thought of “Angles We Have Heard on High” as a clap-along-kind of song, but halfway through, our friend in the brown striped blouse started clapping along. Julie didn’t miss a beat. She joined right in. By the time the song was done, half the residents and even some of the staff were clapping along.

We finished by going around one last time and wishing each one of the residents a “Merry Christmas” and a “God loves you.”

And then it was 2:30 in the afternoon and it was time to go find a dim sum restaurant.
Singing Christmas carols in a Chinese nursing home was a real highlight.

In fact, it was dee-luxe.

Chinese Nursing Home part 1 of 2

My dad is a pretty optimistic guy; he’s a glass-half-full kind of fellow. Over the years, we kids have catalogued a few Roger-ism. Just in case we weren’t sure whether or not we were supposed to be enjoying ourselves on whatever family excursion we found ourselves, Dad would narrate, “Oh this is deee-lux.” Always the consummate promoter.

When we were on vacation sitting on a park bench cutting up that $11.00 brick of Mackinac Island fudge into bullion-cube sized pieces, we could pretty much count on Dad to chime in with “Oh, this is a real highlight.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I am always looking for unique opportunities for our family here in Hong Kong, so you can image my excitement when I saw in our church bulletin that they were calling for volunteers to do some Christmas caroling in local nursing homes on the Sunday before Christmas. I immediately put it on our family calendar. In pen.

I knew that I had a bit of a sales job ahead of me to get my family on board. I'm sure that they had other things they would rather do. But hey, how often do you get to visit a Chinese nursing home?

I not only managed to get my family on board, but I convinced the neighbor family to join us as well.

It turned out to be a good thing that our two families showed up because our Church had committed themselves to two nursing homes and without us they would have only had seven people. Our two families were assigned to one of the nursing homes and we were joined by two young Chinese women from the church who knew where to go and knew how to speak both Cantonese and English.

I never would have found the nursing home. While it was right on the main road, it was in a tall, non-descript building that looked older than it probably was. I assume the staff was expecting us, but when we arrived, they had to scamper around to accommodate us. The ten of us pressed ourselves against a wall and tried not to get in the way as the staff pulled together plastic chairs to create a make-shift theatre.

The entire nursing home –-which appeared to house about fifteen residents-- only took up a fraction of the fifth floor. The nursing home was essentially one big room that was subdivided into little cubicles. Most residents slept in beds that were behind shoulder-height dividers. A few residents –the ones who appeared to be most in need of care- slept in semi-private rooms with a door that closed. The nursing home was clean and bright, but it was old and anything but high-tech.

With the help of the staff, the residents slowly started to shuffle into the main room. The residents seemed a little indifferent to all of the hubabaloo, but the staff seemed to be showing some enthusiasm. If nothing else, we visitors promised to break up the monotony of a quiet Sunday afternoon.

I had no idea where they came from, but a bag of really inexpensive Santa hats suddenly appeared. One of the staff members went around putting the hats on the residents. At first I cringed. Oh, that really is necessary. You don’t need to do that on our account. But none of the residents seemed to mind. Besides, it did make them look kind of festive.

As we stood there, lined up against the wall, waiting for whatever was going to happen to happen, I couldn’t help but feel as if my girls and our friends were thinking “Man, VanNoord what have you gotten us into? This is awkward.”

Mötley Crüe

Fifteen years ago, friends of ours moved back to the Midwest after a decade in Southern California. Knowing how fast-paced and transient life in Los Angeles can be, I asked them if it was hard to make friends. They said it was actually quite the opposite. Because so many people in Southern California were transplants from other parts of the country, they explained, none of them had their extended family around. They found that they ended up spending their holidays together and sharing each others’ hardship and joys.

I think that I’m starting to understand what my friends were talking about. Christmas is supposed to be a time for family; but when you’re 12,000 miles away from Grandpas and Grandmas, uncles and aunts, you make due.

The Friday before Christmas, we had a party with the four families from the Seventh Floor. The kids spent the afternoon cutting out paper snowflakes, making red and green paper chains, and hanging them up. One family moved their tree into the common area, we all brought a dish or two to pass, and the kids brought gifts. We had a big potluck Christmas meal together and then watched the kids open the gifts they had bought for each other.

On Christmas day we accepted an invitation from a family who also teaches here at ICS. After spending Christmas morning together as a family opening presents, we rode the train to the other side of the New Territories. Our hostess made a turkey, a ham, stuffing, and all the Christmas fixings. It was just like Grandma used to make –except for that plate of sushi on the table. Our hosts had also inviting over another American family who were visiting from Indonesia where they live and teach. We had never met them before, but when you're part of an ex-pat community, I have found that you tend to become friends pretty quickly, especially when you are relaxing in someone’s home on Christmas day.

On both occasions, it was a pretty rag-tag band that we had hobbled together and it was certainly no substitute for Grandpa and Grandma, cousins and uncles and aunts. But it sure was nice to have a place to belong and someone to celebrate Christmas with.

-Jack

Making Gingerbread With the Neighbors