When applying for undergrad, I attempted to write my personal statement about my step-grandmother.
I started, She was a small woman nearly eighty five years old. Her small brown eyes resembled the family eyes-eyes that looked away in timidity but at a moment\’s notice, returned bright and hopeful.
Clutching my grandfather, she came into the kitchen setting her bags on the floor . The bags were full of souvenirs and trinkets meant to gain the family\’s favor.
Then I couldn\’t think of anything else to write and wrote about a superficial aspect of myself.
It has always been like that. Despite my grandparents\’ major presence in my childhood, I never felt that they were any more than symbols, people to be revered. I didn\’t break that barrier.
Like my envy of typical Americans\’ celebration of Christmas and Thanksgiving, I also envy the relationships between grandchildren and grandparents. When I was younger, I read books and saw movies where the grandparents–the ones who would make delicious apple pies and the ones who told their grandchildren stories of the war–played an intimate role in the family. I was born in the states. First generation, resulting in a language barrier between my grandparents and me.
Today is the first day of the Chinese New Year–the year of the dog. Yesterday, I called my grandparents to wish them a happy new year. Gung hay fat choy! I said in my heavily accented Chinese. My grandfather, who I recently realized is rather reserved, said thank you and we exchanged a few pleasantries talking about weather. Then we hung up, a short conversation. I called my grandmother who I wished a happy birthday and a happy new year. She gave me a lot of advice in Chinese on how to succeed in life. And then, that was it.
I wish there was more and perhaps if I could, I can make it become more. I watched a Jackie Chan movie yesterday at Gary\’s in \”celebration\” of the Chinese New Year. It was ridiculous like most JC movies and contained much obvious CG.
Maybe I should ask about the Myth.