Favorite Stories| part one
I grew up in a home where you’d get dog fur all over you. That’s how you know it was a good home. I remember it well: My older brother doing older brother things, my sister blowdrying her hair, and little Kevin proudly blasting his first ever album -- Baby, One More Time by Brittney.
My dog Keri was adopted from the Animal Humane Society. She was such a loving fierce girl, only biting me twice. (I provoked her, it was my fault, O.K.) And she was my best friend. I remember getting off the school bus with Kevin one day when this older kid named Raymond started pushing Kev around. Our home wasn't too far from the bus stop and Keri was usually in the backyard waiting for us when we suddenly see her running up the street, straight towards Raymond. Our girl Keri must've heard Kevin's high-pitched "stopit" voice and so she came to protect and assist. Keri started biting at the cuffs of Raymond's jeans and wouldn't let go until we told her to. He ran away crying and cursing at us. It sucks but, Keri got into the most trouble that day. (Raymond was fine, he just needed new jeans.)
But that taught him: we were Keri's pack.
Our cockatiels were classical singers. They would serenade us with the first half of Rossini’s overture to William Tell. I loved them, but I wished they learned the second half of the song. It was a bit anticlimactic. (if you don't know what I'm talking about, listen to the song. It's suspenseful. Now imagine it never ending.) Anyway, I remember my dad built the very cage they lived in. It was beautiful and I think they were happy birds.
I lived in an 8x10 foot bedroom with my sister, sleeping on the top of our bunk bed. She told me once that the only part of the room that belonged to me was the ceiling. Bitch. I totally got back at her though cause I souped up the ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars and always leaving the window open in winter. I thought she was so cool, my sister. She taught me everything I needed to know about clothes and sneakers and not smiling in photos.
My siblings and I were/are very different: Kuya listened to Dave Matthews, Mai with her old-school reggae, Kevin and his Brittney... but what always seemed to bring us together was our basement. It was dope. My dad set up a surround system on the walls and it was like our little corner where we’d watch movies, eat food, and most of all, play video games. I remember there being a summer where all we’d do is play. It was all fun until, I got sick of Kevin’s trash talk. I can get competitive and I didn’t know how to accept being “such an easy kill.” Interestingly enough, to this day, I still kinda like playing video games. Maybe it’s a nostalgia thing but I don't know, I just enjoy a good game! I’m Asian.
Sleeping over my cousins house was like a dream come true. Rarely did my parents let me sleep over but when they did, it turned me upside-down-inside-out happy! I remember one summer when all 32872348934298023 of my cousins from Florida took a Greyhound bus to visit us in the Jersey Shore. There was never enough space for all of us, but we made the best of it.
I remember my parents being home alone for the first time without any of us kids. They actually let us all sleep over somewhere. I remember coming back the next day asking what they did, having the whole house to themselves and then I saw the evidence: two boxes of pizza (one for each) and a rented movie from Blockbuster.
If*
there's one takeaway I have from my recent trip visiting family back home, it's that, we are a people of Storytellers. Not needing much but a good memory, a strong voice, and some attentive listeners, we believe in the art of a Story Told, and a Story Heard.
And Family, is just one of my many favorite stories to tell
What I'm Listening to: Take Five, The Dave Brubeck Quartet
What I'm Reading: Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens