I lose

a companion to this picture - click for larger pic in flickr

One morning on the train I was slightly surprised to find 4 people around me reading - this being a too-sleepy-to-read sort of train. The man to my right was reading a book titled "10 characteristics of effective leadership" or something to this effect. Curious, I glanced at the page.

Losers find problems in every answer, winners find answers in every problem.

Losers see thunderstorms and icy weather, winners see rainbows and ice skates.

There was a list of some 30 of these "loser vs winner" lines. And when he turned the page, I saw this at the top.

Soul success is self-respect for an honourable life.

If there is any truth in that book, then please let me not have to spend too much time with anyone who thinks himself a "winner" and finds his soul a "success".

trouble with numbers

These memes are really tough to do. On the surface they seem straightforward enough, but when you do get down to listing down things you like/dislike/always do/have done etc, it doesn't matter if it is 4 or 7 - anything past the 1 is a real test. Why limit yourself to 4 or 7 of anything? 4 favourite foods when you may have 10 or 12, or since you are Singaporean, 39? Only 4 websites to visit daily when there are more than 4 friends with blogs (links on the right!)? Or 4 jobs when all you've ever wanted is that 1 which is not yet yours?

OK, I admit: all of this is a long-winded way of saying that I did try to complete the 4 meme that tcsd, ru and CATch-up tagged me with...but failed miserably.

As compensation, here are 4 poems I thought of immediately instead. Hope you enjoy them ;>
1. a lyric by someone who knows contentment
2. a psalm by a broken man who receives real forgiveness
3. a poem by someone who remembers (you'll have to scroll down to see the poem)
4. just 4 short lines, quatrain 36

the cook, his wife & their gods

the altar to the most high cholestrol - photos in this post by J

When I first learnt, several years ago, that J's dad was a cook (he ran a Zhi Char place in Jalan Besar hawker centre), I was surprised. Incredulous,

"Your father's a cook and you can't even tell a garlic from an onion?"



Father J is not a chatty man. Like most Zhi Char cooks, he has spent most of the time with one muscular arm holding on to a blackened, iron wok, and the other nimbly coordinating the fire, food, seasoning and plates. And in like manner, he sits steadily and silently by us when we visit, but his eyes, cheeks and lips are busy with smiles. Ma J, meanwhile, would carry on three conversations simultaneously with us, her 7 year-old grandson and her nephew on a long distance call from some Hok Chia village in China.

Ma J likes to tell us what a good man J's father is - his faithfulness, his care for the family. All that, I imagine, is meant for me to conclude like father, like son. But the cook has one habit his wife has never reconciled with. Gambling.

Perhaps this is why their flat is inhabited by more gods and lucky charms than humans. Besides the large rosewood altar in the living room and a little one by the door, every surface - cupboards, walls, the coffee table top, even the aquarium fishes - were acquired for the hope they bring; even if they cannot ward off anxiety, fear and death.





So I guess it's another good thing that this wedding has made it necessary for us to drop by to see J's folks more often. After all, father J is past 70 and ma J has picked up quite a bit from the buffet of chronic illness (diabetes, heart disease, high cholestrol and blood pressure), some of which are no doubt caused by the 4 not-so-secret ingredients for yummy Zhi Char - lard, MSG, salt, lard.