In Chinese, the paternal grandmother is called "Ah-Ma" and the maternal grandmother is called "Ah-Poh." However, growing up along side my older cousin, Gordon (from my Dad's side of the family), my sisters and I took after him in calling our shared grandma Ah-Poh, though technically she is my Ah-Mah. If you are confused about this, well, I will admit I was too for a large part of my childhood.
One of the greatest highlights of my young life was attending parties with my parents. My mom would touch me up bit of blush and lipstick and send me off in a giant puffy pink dress. With my wavy hair cut in a mushroom bob, I was basically the Asian version of the actress whome my favorite drink was named for, Shirley Temple. Though I spent countless hours examining the back of my mom's lovely dresses or in a corner researching the complexity of carbonated drinks, I was always beyond estatic to be in the same room as all the adults.
As tradition/curtesy/forced cohersion, my mom always made me go say hi to all the Yee-Yee's (Aunties) before I earned my prized drinks. After be coaxed into giving up my cherub cheeks for torture (I REALLY wanted those Shirely Temples and fizzy drinks), my Yee-yee's would typically inquire about the health of my Ah-Mah. Without knowing any better, I would always reply, "I don't have an Ah-Mah." I can still remember when one Yee-yee's face twisted in horror (I think she thought I was being a rude, smart-mouth little brat, which I have a reputation for), before my mom gave her the full explaination of blunder. As for me, I still went around telling people I didn't have an "Ah-Mah."
This tiny faux-paux thrives strong within our family. Even friends of my family know that my Ah-Mah is and will always be my "Ah-Poh", and call her so. For those who don't know, we occationally allow distinguish the two by calling one "the Ah-Poh at home" and "the Ah-Poh in California."
For some odd reason (me being the odd), calling my grandma Ah-Poh so often, eventually evolved to calling her Apple. To this day, I don't think she has yet to catch onto my slight change of tongue. I would put money on it that if she did notice she would have attributed it to my horrible ongoing slaughter of the Taishanese dialect.
I have always lived with my Apple in a little house with a red roof on 38th Street. It is this Apple who makes me my favorite oatmeal with eggs, chides me for not completely drying my hair before sleeping, and rubs my leg with ointments when I get muscle cramps. This is also the Apple who has given me the love for waffles, cooking, and yelling at the TV. Now my Apple has given me a wintermelon plant in its early stages, a couple of tomato seeds, and a small area for when my tomato plants are ready to be transplanted into the actual ground.
On March 11, 2009, at about 8:30am, we broke ground and transplanted my wintermelon plant along side his (yes, it's a boy) siblings and cousins. My grandma also showed me her technique for containing and drying tomato seeds before we planted a few for myself in a small pot, which too sits along side their family. Since the 11th, I have woken up early to water my plants and cheer them on to grow. My grandma is taking care of their evening water needs while I am at my parent's restaurant taking care of my customers' water needs. Every night, I spend time catching with my grandma about her plants and learning more about gardening. I have so much to learn about taking care of my plants. Luckily for me, my grandma is patient with me and occational throws in a story about her old life back in China. Tomorrow, my Apple is going to teach me how to add fertilizer to the soil, turn the soil, and how to cover the soil so that the fierce Florida sun and heat does not rob my wintermelon plant of his daily drink.
I am anxiously waiting for the day when my tomato plants spring from the ground and are strong enough to migrate to real American soil. But, till then, I am the proud keeper of a loverly wintermelon plant, a couple of "down-to-earth" tomato seeds, and a feisty, 5 foot tall, 80+ year old apple.
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that was very entertaining. your posts need pictures tho!! and you don't have the excuse that you left your camera in my car. additionally you should include a story about how my parents taught you how to plant chinese veggies. :P did your apple know about those seeds? oh and my dad makes oatmeal with eggs too!
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