The Long Road

… comes Where In The World Is Osama Bin Laden?

Looks to be an interesting and potentially even funny look at a serious subject. It debuts at Sundance.

I haven’t written recently about our One New Recipe a Week Policy, but rest assured, we’ve been sticking to it pretty well. We’ve even had weeks with MORE than one new recipe! Mmmmmmmmm. Anyway, two recent ones were both from the book that is quickly becoming my kitchen bible - The New Best Recipe. It’s been mentioned before, but I have to say, this book is huge! Thus, it is going to be the source of many future scrumptious delights.

Phở (Vietnamese Beef Noodle Soup)

Molten Chocolate Cake with Carmel Sauce

Being a mixed race individual is a bit of an odd situation. By that I mean that it is truly irrelevant in all ways and I never, ever, think about it. That is until, , someone asks me “the question”. And it is a question that I’ve been asked frequently and consistently throughout my life. Most of you who read this blog know me personally and may have even asked it of me early on. No big deal. Really, it’s not. I really don’t mind. Actually I’ve been kind of fascinated by the whole thing as long as I can remember, simply because it has happened so much, and people place an importance on it that I really don’t get.
I grew up in Prince George, which, in the 70’s wasn’t exactly a hub of multi-culturalism. As a result, I got called “chink” a fair bit, mostly by people who I knew as friends. I once was sucker punched in the gut. The reason my assailant gave was that I was a chink. This “friend” asked me years later, in a slightly drunken state, why we had drifted apart. Hmmmm. I also had my only schoolyard fight in elementary school because I felt I had to defend myself against the new kid that year who saw the other kids call me that, and felt it was accepted practice. I won, and he stopped. So really, most of my formative years were spent convincing myself and others, in conscious and unconscious ways that I was no different. You can imagine my confusion when I got to UBC for my first year and had to CONVINCE people of my chinese ancestry when they found out my last name. “Why do you have a chinese last name. You aren’t chinese.” Hmmmmm.
Nowadays I typically make a bit of a game of it, forcing my questioner to make their best guess. Not nice play I guess, but I must admit that I do find it fun. Some guesses have included First Nations, Italian or just “somewhere in the Mediteranian”, Japanese, Asian, and sometimes even Chinese.
I wonder if my brother and sister remember the time when as kids we were enjoying snowcones at the old World’s Fair site in Spokane Washington. A man on a nearby bench asked us if we were of Chinese decent. Of course we freaked out because we knew better than to talk to strangers. He picked up on this right away and said he understood and respected that, but that he was a war vet and had seen a lot of asians and mixed race war babies in his time. As I recall, my big sister took hold of the reins this time and had a quick, guarded conversation with him as my brother and I shyly ate our snowcones. I suppose I remember this particular incident because this fellow had a good idea of our racial heritage rather than the usual people how claim to have no idea other than that we aren’t fully Caucasian. [Sidebar: I always find it funny that “Caucasian” has the word “asian” in it. I think I’ll have to look up why.]
At UVic, in a Canadian Lit course, I discovered the poetry of Fred Wah. Part Chinese, he grew up on the prairies. I thought I had it tough in Prince George! Through his poetry I found that he too struggled with his identity being the son of a (you guessed it) Chinese Restaurant owner. He too found it tough at times to accept his heritage, wishing at times that he could just be like everyone else. The professor of my course knew Wah personally and to help me with a project lent me her copy of a very limited edition hand written and bound collection of Wah’s poems. I probably kept it longer than I should, but really identified with the poems that specifically dealt with issues of being mixed race. I no longer remember the particular poems (yes, I did return the book), but they would likely be something like this.

Untitled

my father hurt-
ing at the table
sitting hurting
at suppertime
deep inside very
far down inside
because I can’t stand the ginger
in the beef and greens
he cooked for us tonight
and years later tonight
that look on his face
appears now on mine
my children
my food
their food
my father
their father
me mine
the father
very far
very very far
inside

- Fred Wah -

He has since written other poetry and prose on the subject of his mixed race existence, most notably perhaps, Diamond Grill, published after I had finished at UVic and moved on to thinking about other things. Maybe it’s time I looked that book up.

When Mich and I lived in China it seemed that it was very obvious to the people there that I was of some watered down Chinese decent. I got a lot of “I think maybe you have Chinese in your family”. Actually I even asked in my interview for our school if my mixed genes would be cause of any problems for me at my job. I was told no, and that was indeed the way it worked out. In fact, it seemed that as a result I was always forgiven for my crappy language skills. I can remember at least one other “bananas” (yellow on the outside, white on the inside) who got grief from the Chinese because they couldn’t speak the language.
Anyway, I guess the inspiration for this post is a series that CBC’s The Current did several months ago about the experiences of mixed race people called Mixed Blessings. I found it quite interesting. It was cool to see that other people share some of my experiences and thoughts about being of mixed race. You can read the write up here. It includes links to stream or download the podcasts of the episodes from The Current as well.

It is funny that though it’s been a topic that has come up in my life repeatedly, I don’t really ever remember discussing it with either of my siblings, or my parents for that matter. In truth, I really I have no idea if they have had similar thoughts and experiences. I guess I’ll have to do that one day.

This pic ran in the Winnipeg Free Press today. The hairy guy in the right corner who looks to be thoroughly enjoying this hit is my brother-in- law. The Moose lost the game despite the big hit.