Money is Thicker than Blood
Last week Dad gave me $1,000HKD and said, “Merry Christmas”. I hesitated, then took the bill.
“I don’t want anything. I just want your love.”
Dad was taken aback. He smiled that defensive smile, breaking the tension with a joke. (Guess who I learned that from?) “What do you mean I don’t love you?”
I reciprocated the humorous banter, though of course behind every joke there’s some truth. “I never said that you don’t love me. I just said I want your love. So I have everything I need.” I gave him an out.
Dad smiles. “Son, I…sigh…I…”
Breaking the tension some more (à la mom), I joked, “I…I…I…what? You can’t even finish your sentence!”
Dad laughs. “Sigh, let’s talk another day.”
Dad always gave me money. Whether it was my birthday present, my weekly allowance, or just money to play at the arcades, as early as I could remember, he had given me money, and I loved him for it.
“Money doesn’t represent love.” I was shocked the first time I heard that. Up until I was about seven, I had firmly associated money with love. When I was good, Dad was happy. When Dad was happy, he gave me money. When I had money, I could buy candy, baseball cards, or play games. It was obvious to me, up until then, that money equated love. Yet these words were from Mom, the other absolute authority of truth.
Another time, another place, Dad and I were chatting. I was still young and impressionable. Innocent. I said something along the lines of, “I wish I had all the money in the world.”
“Do you really love money?”
What kind of question was that? “Of course, who doesn’t love money?” Duh.
“Money isn’t most important.”
The man who loved me via money just told me something important, though I couldn’t figure out what. “Money can’t buy air” was the example he gave, and that made logical sense. But there was a deeper fundamental belief that Dad just broke, and without understanding what it was, I remember this conversation to this day.
I still don’t know what broke inside me that day. Was it simply that money wasn’t everyone’s top priority, despite seeing everyone around me scramble to earn, spend (thriftily), and hoard? Or was there a deeper connection between money and paternal love that broke?
Mom rarely gave me money. She was the saver of the family. Still is. Being an accountant helped, but as I later learned, she has a history of being poor.
Mom grew up in Hong Kong. She was the fourth daughter out of eight children. Her dad drank and gave most of his wages to his mom and brother. Grandma couldn’t raise eight kids on her share of Grandpa’s wages, so she worked.
Grandma was a serial entrepreneur. One business was renting comics to kids. Back in the day, Hong Kong people were very poor, and comics were too expensive to be purchased. Instead, kids would go to Grandma and rent them every week, following the adventures of Sun Wukong (孫悟空) and other Chinese legends.
Grandma also sold sugar cane to the locals. Back then, it was popular to grab a sugar cane and chew on it, sucking the sugar water out. Even today it exists, though instead of manually chomping on the cane we have mechanical juicers. Being poor and old enough to help out (four years old!), Mom would be the one slicing the canes as they were sold. She recalls the toughness of the cane as they were chewed: “I can’t believe people’s teeth didn’t chip!” The tough cane was also dangerous: as Mom was slicing the cane one time, her knife slipped and cut deeply into her finger. Hospitals were expensive, so they just poured some “red medicine” onto the wound and wrapped it. Surprisingly she has no visible scar.
When Mom was 20, she went to New York, studying accounting at Hunter College. She had no money, so she worked at a clothing factory. Her day began at 7 a.m.
To be continued…
I’m grateful for:
- Opportunities to learn to eat fish and pick their bones out. It’s quite the challenge!
- New ideas for teaching yoga. Jessica and I are thinking of doing outdoor classes with groups, perhaps with me just practicing in the open as marketing. Also we’re figuring out how to modify the sequence to be more accessible while retaining its benefits. Good times!
- Free printouts at my yoga studio! Which means I get to print the primary series for my own students. Which means my students will have an easier time practicing on their own.
- $1 off coupon from the Circle K. I bought two drinks and qualified for a prize drawing. They asked me to hit a number on the keypad. I hit “7″ and won!
- The bus driver who drove us to the train station. It’s the people who work in the background who make the world go round.