But It Was Good

Happy New Year’s Eve to everyone.  From the time I was up, I’d been writing people in China who were only hours’ away from midnight.  To people who sent me non-personalized greetings:  “wishing you a joyous year of the rat” I sent back and equally commonplace “新年快乐!”  Otherwise, I’d try to say something more thoughtful.  And as I started pinging one and another person from my Wechat contacts, I found myself sending notes out to all sorts of people I’d lost touch with, which is precisely what the season, and this application are good for. 

Later in the day, we’d arranged to have the not insignificant number of Chinese students from my younger one’s school (and my alma mater) come over to bao jiaozi.  The Mrs. had characteristically gone all out and had quite a few dumplings already prepared, and the fixings ready for seemingly limitless additional jiaozi production.  As we’d tried to explain to the school, imagine yourself stuck somewhere for Christmas Eve, where no one was celebrating anything. 

There were two or three ladies, but most of these kids were fellas and as I learned talking with them, and then, considering their height, most of these kids were into basketball.  I stood on the porch with one guy and chatted away in Chinese about what he liked and didn’t like about his Quaker education.  Two brave kids came even though they weren’t of the Chinese persuasion.  A young lady from Afghanistan, whom I’d met before and another lad from Turkey.  Alas I couldn’t much discuss his hometown of Ankara, having never been, but we all agreed that Istanbul was a remarkable place.  He too, played basketball.  Thirty-five years ago, during my tenure at the school, I seem to recall that no one played basketball and next to no one was Chinese.

While I was tempted to invite a bunch of people I hadn’t seen in years, I ended up only inviting one family.  My dear old chum from undergrad who is now a professor at Bard and his remarkable wife and two sons who apparently thought we were rather well-off, pulling into our driveway and seeing a school bus, convinced that it was our own private form of pedagogical transportation.  My wife chided me that I spoke with them all too long, to the detriment of my general hosting duties, ahh but it was good to have a talk about books and places and to show an old friend around this house of ours.  I was glad they stayed later and as happens felt a pang of sadness when they finally had to go. 

Friday 01/24/20