To cap off the biggest weekend of the year, my family threw a party for my grandpa's 90th birthday. Now, I believe that this was a "for real" 90th. I've found that, for some reason or another, my ancestors were in the habit of submitting false dates of birth when they immigrated to this country. We celebrated my great-aunt's 90th birthday earlier this year, but we've calculated that she's actually closer to 100. Don't tell anyone.
The planning of this event took on the form of a "mini-wedding". There were arguments about the seating arrangements for 40+ invitees. There was a rather large cake, a game, and parting gifts. An aunt and uncle changed their plane tickets so they could fly back to Toronto from London two days early to make it to the party.
My father put together a scrapbook, featuring all the congratulatory certificates we received from the Governor-General, members of parliament (both federal and provincial), and the mayor. My dad found a photo of my great-grandfather that was taken in Cuba in the early 1900s. I KNOW there must be a good story connected with that. My grandpa met all kinds of interesting people when he was the manager of a prominent hotel in Hong Kong: General Maxwell Taylor, the royal family of Nepal, and who knows who else. There was an old photo of Grandpa with a group of men that my dad couldn't identify. When we showed it to him, he was able to name every single one of them. Memory is a funny thing.
I have a big family on one side, but we're not that close and we don't see each other that often. Every time we get together, in cases such as this, being in a room filled with four generations of my family brings a lot of things into perspective for me. It's like looking backwards and forwards at the same time. I'm often glad that I belong to a culture that holds family in such high regard. Sadly though, my grandpa is the only grandparent I have left, and most of my older relatives have passed on in recent years. I'm afraid that, sooner rather than later, all I'll have left are the photos. And my memory is fuzzy.
"It's times like these you learn to live again"
Monday, November 13, 2006
Sometimes the Woman Doesn't Show Up
My friend is married. I feel strange when I say that aloud to myself. It feels even less real than when I was saying, my friend is going to be married.
Saturday was the big day. Despite our best efforts, it started a little shakily, with a slow hairstylist, unusual traffic patterns, a lost photographer, a pastor who casually mentioned to the groom that Taiwanese brides don't always show up, and a ceremony that began 40 minutes later than it should. But it all worked out in the end. We were even treated to a lesson on relationship statistics and a recitation of a Peanuts cartoon from the wonderful pastor.
After the ceremony, everything was peachy. The luncheon was yummy, the photo session at the greenhouse was fun, the ring bearer kept us entertained, the limo ride was enhanced with champagne, the bar at the reception was open, the speeches were short and funny, and the slideshow was a tearjerker (in a good way).
Someone asked me if this experience fueled any desire to get married myself. I have to say that it hasn't really changed my opinion of it: marriage is a nice thing, but it's not the only thing. I am ridiculously thrilled for my newly married friend. If the same should happen for me, that would be great. Until then, I'm not sweating about it too much. I'll just sit over here with my eyes open, eating my cake.
CONGRATULATIONS, J & M!
"With all of my heart, you know I'll always be right there"
Saturday was the big day. Despite our best efforts, it started a little shakily, with a slow hairstylist, unusual traffic patterns, a lost photographer, a pastor who casually mentioned to the groom that Taiwanese brides don't always show up, and a ceremony that began 40 minutes later than it should. But it all worked out in the end. We were even treated to a lesson on relationship statistics and a recitation of a Peanuts cartoon from the wonderful pastor.
After the ceremony, everything was peachy. The luncheon was yummy, the photo session at the greenhouse was fun, the ring bearer kept us entertained, the limo ride was enhanced with champagne, the bar at the reception was open, the speeches were short and funny, and the slideshow was a tearjerker (in a good way).
Someone asked me if this experience fueled any desire to get married myself. I have to say that it hasn't really changed my opinion of it: marriage is a nice thing, but it's not the only thing. I am ridiculously thrilled for my newly married friend. If the same should happen for me, that would be great. Until then, I'm not sweating about it too much. I'll just sit over here with my eyes open, eating my cake.
CONGRATULATIONS, J & M!
"With all of my heart, you know I'll always be right there"
Immi and the Beat Box
After many frustrating experiences of poor timing, I was able to witness Imogen Heap live and on stage last week. She is absolutely the coolest person, and an integral component of my British Phase. For those who aren't familiar with her, you've probably heard her songs on any Zach Braff movie soundtrack or an episode of The OC.
She had two opening acts, one of whom was Kid Beyond, a beatboxer who is FRIGGIN' AMAZING. When you listen to his music, it blows the mind to think that every sound you hear was made using only his mouth and a microphone. This was his first performance in Toronto ever. When he comes back, I HIGHLY recommend experiencing his live act.
"The dust has only just begun to fall, crop circles in the carpet"
She had two opening acts, one of whom was Kid Beyond, a beatboxer who is FRIGGIN' AMAZING. When you listen to his music, it blows the mind to think that every sound you hear was made using only his mouth and a microphone. This was his first performance in Toronto ever. When he comes back, I HIGHLY recommend experiencing his live act.
"The dust has only just begun to fall, crop circles in the carpet"