Two more posts... observations from around this home of mine

First, a quick observational post that means little without context, but I liked even without the context...

 

It was progress, the kind of progress explained in rubble and displaced migrants and families with nowhere to go... progress that looked like a wasteland of busted concrete and the ghosts of lives gone by.

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Now, a more involved observation...

I've always loved being a voyeur. Not in the trench-coated, lurking old man sense, but I've always thought about and enjoyed being a secret part of other moments, other lives... someone in the background of a photo who is surreptitiously sneaking a grin to add color to an event. I'm at the pub before dinner has begun, listening to a somewhat stereotypical pre-shift pep talk being given to the staff before a busy Friday night. The brewpub I'm in definitely caters to western preferences... bar stools at the bar set before multiple big screens with any number of sports showing, music just a bit too loud to allow for annonymity, good food and drink selection, and, of course, happy hour. The music has been muted to allow for the speech. Even though we're in a western-style establishment, parts of China peek through from under the façade. The speech from the supervisor is peppered with Chinglish clichés like, "Be happy every day" and other supportive cheer about making sure everyone is on-point, repeating the idea that all the clients who come in should feel "sexy". This is encouraged by telling staffers to make flirtatious eye contact. Social skills 101. Other grand, lofty slogans and goals are thrown around. Classic China. If you don't believe me, spend time walking around a busy restaurant area, but do so before the dinner rush starts... you'll see shouted slogans, calisthenics, dance lines, fireworks, propaganda repetition... just depends on the day. Back home, this would be eye-rolling nonsense, but here, it's ingrained in the business culture. I'm not entirely sure where it comes from. Possibly the military training done in schools, the Cultural Revolution propagandizing. It's hard to say. I also wonder about who is writing the speech about happiness and sexiness. Is the cute shift supervisor the one behind spouting the party line? Or is she simply the deliverer of the words that come from the big boss, who sits aloof across the bar in a trendy suit and personally tailored leather shoes?

As the speech wraps and the (expected) applause dies down, the volume on the stereo is back to full and everyone gets busy. I get back to my novel and my burger, wondering when things that used to seem so strange began to look so normal.

T

The distance... an entry from a few weeks ago

This is an entry I wrote a few weeks ago following the passing of my aunt, but never got around to posting...

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For those who live abroad, being away has a dark side that we rarely talk about... that we try to avoid acknowledging. It's the type of reality that keeps us from our family and friends that we love, but from whom we are so far removed. We have an endless number of reasons for our departure. Some leave to cure a broken heart, some seek adventure, while still others are being practical and pursuing economic ends. Still others are left with few options and walk across the tarmac to somewhere new because few options remain in the place they used to call home. Often, it's a combination of these factors. I've quoted this before (and probably will until my end of days), but it's something I believe about our travels... "For the longest way 'round is the shortest way home." My own plans for one year of recovery and rediscovery have turned into 6 years and a potential career abroad, at least for the forseeable future. This distance, though... sometimes it cuts deep.

My aunt passed away this morning. My uncle's wife. We weren't close, nor had we ever really been. I spent quite a few holiday get-togethers with her and my uncle and my cousins at big family dinners. We were friend, but I knew her only in a superficial way. That's probably the case for many nieces/nephews/aunts/uncles. I remember her laugh and a few other details, but much of what I'd known has faded from years being out of touch. But, I remember her laugh. I liked it. It was comforting.

We were strangers, though, for no reason but a lack of proximity and a generally broken relationship between my father and his older brother. It was also just a reality of different lives, different towns, different priorities. It has been a few years since I saw her last. The most recent memory, I remember noticing how much her and my uncle had changed. Her silvered hair looked good on her, but for some reason it still surprised me. I'm sure I'd noticed before, but in my mind's eye, she remained a youngish 40-something. She'd aged, but seemed to have aged well. My uncle was different too in my recent experiences. He had softened, and seemed to have an easy smile and a ready joke. Maybe being a grandfather had brought this out in him... or maybe my own memories are skewed. He was curious about my life in a way I'd never experienced with him. They both were. 

I have mixed memories of my uncle. When I was a child, I recall being equal parts intrigued by him and scared of him. He was so much like my dad in many ways, but was still different. Sadly, it's the more negative memories that define my early recollections, but my later memories as an adult (and, to a certain extent, when I re-met him) were much more positive. I remember a few occasions asking my mom why he and my dad never talked and always seemed to be walking a razor wire of intensity when they were together. She'd explained a bit of the backstory, but I remember little of it other than the long-standing reality of distance between them. This is a tough bit to swallow when you're young and idealistic, thinking you've got it figured out. I couldn't understand why they couldn't just forget about it and be buddies. Now that I'm in my 30s, I understand a bit more. Grievances are harder to shake, harder to forgive, maybe impossible to forget. History marks us all, and the scars sometimes become all we can see.

I got the message this evening. My fiancée is getting a massage with a friend and I was sitting in a nearby pub, enjoying a stout while reading my book. It was grey outside. Cold. Windy. Vancouver in January. Checking my email, I see the note from my cousin's wife, N...

"Hey T, not sure what kind of hours you keep on the other side of the big ball... just thought I would let you know that [your aunt] passed away peacefully in the night. Tragic and calming all at the same time. The suffering is finally over. Take care."

The guilty part of me feels like the message is undeserved and too kind. I haven't made the slightest effort to contact them in a meaningful way since she got sick. I kept think... "I'll make the effort when I'm home in the summer." So selfish, this thought.

Why are the young so confident in the belief that there will be more time? And even as I age, why have I not become any wiser to this reality?

Aunt J, you will be missed.