During my childhood, the sibling rivalry in our home manifested itself in complicated and nuanced ways. I grew up with two sisters, four years my senior and one year my junior. My father passed away when I was nine, and thus I ended up growing up as the only male in the house. As such, in a Chinese culture that is predominantly patriarchal, it similarly colored many of my experiences. Depending on the nature of the situation, I may possess an implicit seniority over my older sister. It’s something that is cultural which I navigated strictly by ‘feel’. To delicately unwrap all those interactions would take more time and space than this simple post. Similarly, to attribute an outcome as a product of culture (whether Chinese, Spanish, or American) or as a function of our individual personalities would be even more complex.
Author: Frank
On an otherwise normal afternoon, I have a dentist appointment and leave my office with ample time to make my dental cleaning. It’s a beautiful day and I drove my Lotus Elise, a tiny little sports car. Naturally, there are many ways to get there, but today I elect to go on surface streets. Next, I drive up a residential road on a mild hill that overlooks the freeway as it crests on an all-way stop intersection. I start to coast down that hill; my destination is only about five minutes away. As I pass a cross street, I see a figure jump out into sight; he wore a uniform and wielded a radar gun. He motions for me to pull over. I was busted.
Continue reading “Having given up on ‘value of life’, it’s now about ‘accountability’”
I grew up straddled among three cultures; each of them separated by their own language. I subsequently arrived in the States in the fifth grade. During my education in Puerto Rico and later in Florida, they introduced me to fairy tales like any other child. In Puerto Rico, we read these Disney storybooks with a mini record in a sleeve in the back. We played the records too; they were the size of 45’s but played back at 33. Initially, I wondered if had indeed first heard these in Spanish. However, I then remembered the name ‘Cenicienta’, which is the Spanish version of Cinderella.
The words ‘happily ever after’ mark the prototypical ending to fairy tales. That said, children naturally understand the implication of those words when referred to Snow White and Prince Charming when the story ends. It means that the young couple gets married and lives a life of horizontal bliss. Not having actual jobs, Snow White’s screams of ecstasy fill the towers of the castle on a nightly basis, sometimes during the day too. They got married; this is completely permissible. The only real question is whether the young couple prefers missionary or doggie style.
For decades I had a Rubik’s cube as a permanent fixture on my desk at work. I first learned to solve it during middle school. I got one at a bookstore close to the family restaurant. This deluxe unit had tiles instead of stickers. When I first got it, it bore the trademark Rubik’s logo on a center square, but it rubbed off long ago. This very same cube sat in my office decades later. In some ways, this little device not only provided much of my amusement when I was young, but it also defined part of my identity. I was that guy who could solve a Rubik’s cube; it was distinctive.
Continue reading “How a Rubik’s cube demonstrates why your intuition is wrong”
On typical Florida afternoons, my time was filled with reruns of older television shows and some newer ones. I confessed to my wife that a disproportionate part of my English education was watching “Three’s Company” on television; this simple truth amused her. We spent those moments crowded around a console television; it was closer to furniture than electronics. The local stations aired “Leave it to Beaver” and “Gilligan’s Island” regularly, and they became an integral part of my childhood. In later years, those afternoons were filled with episodes of “M*A*S*H”. I can remember more details about the members of the 4077th than elements of my own life.
It started years ago. Every other Tuesday, we met for breakfast. We typically numbered around four to eight, and you need not actually eat breakfast, just sit and chat. Sometimes we networked; occasionally we would vent about tech. As we sat in the cafeteria, we’d motion for any familiar face to sit down with us. Naturally, this was before the pandemic started.
During one such morning, I patiently walk to the station that cooks breakfast and order an omelet and hashbrowns, which take a few minutes. Next, I wander to the coffee station where I order two items: a tall latte with whipped cream and a bacon maple bar to go along with my breakfast. I watch as the man at the espresso stand makes my drink and hands it to me. He then proceeds to reach for a pair of green tongs to get my bacon maple bar and puts it on a cardboard plate. Finally, I set those on the nearby table where we normally congregate. As I wait for my breakfast, I watch as that same man reaches for a croissant with that same pair of green tongs and hands it to a customer.
Months ago, we stand outside one of the local grocery stores. We reach into a large bin made of corrugated cardboard and sort through the different pumpkins. We each have different criteria for our selection as we look through the large collection of these orange masses. Many years ago, my wife introduced me to the activity of carving pumpkins, one in which she insists that I have artistic ability. Meanwhile, we put our selections in the cart, go inside to pay for them, and load them into the car.
These large bins are outside the store. Certainly, there’s absolutely nothing that prevents anyone from simply taking pumpkins home without paying for them. Can they steal them? Yes, absolutely. Do they steal them? No, they generally don’t. While I’m sure that some steal these pumpkins that sit outside the store, it’s not a big enough problem where they are compelled to address it.
Continue reading “Photo identification and the ‘integrity of the vote’”
It is 2001, and I meticulously track the baseball season. My favorite team, the Atlanta Braves, are tracking well into yet another division title. I am both a bachelor and a night owl and routinely fall asleep to the television on ESPN’s Sports Center. This is precisely what happens on this September Monday; I expect to wake to the morning version of Sports Center. I do not. The conventional news plays on ESPN, which perplexes me. Then, I watch in horror as I see a plane strike one of the Twin Towers in New York City. Quite abruptly, the world changed.
Continue reading “The price of perceived safety and security”
Shortly after I arrived in Washington, my friend had a few people over; it was a party. I was young and new to the team and most of my friends were a group of interns to whom I was closer in age to my full-time peers. In this particular case, I brought a lot of Rolling Rock beer. I drank it too quickly, and my body reacted accordingly. I subsequently spent some time in the single bathroom in the apartment vomiting violently. While my friends were sympathetic to my predicament, my friend eventually threatened to pee on my head. I collected myself and cleared out of that single bathroom.
Continue reading “Racism and how do we know what is appropriate?”
I drove a 1966 Mustang when I attended college. Her name was Lisa, and she was two years older than I. I loved that car, but she was an incredible nuisance. I learned to service many elements of that car and shuttled back and forth between my school in Miami and my home in Fort Lauderdale with a trunk full of tools. It was a love/hate relationship. I could write an entire blog post reminiscing about Lisa, but I won’t do that today, besides… I’ve already done that.
Instead, I’ll marvel about the safety features of that car, which is to say nearly none. The car had a set of lap seatbelts, which didn’t retract. A shoulder strap that extended from the roof of the car, and you could extend that and clip it on. You had a choice strapping in across the belt or the shoulder, but not both. That’s about the extent of the safety features of the car.
People often describe cars of that era as ‘tanks’, since they are much more likely to survive an accident. The subtle subtext is that the car survives, but the passengers incur more injury.