Life’s Highs and Luos: First Memories
I don’t have very many memories of my first few years of my life. All I remember was spending a lot of time with my grandparents. My parents were busy and the cheapest form of daycare was family labor!
Some of my first memories were in Memphis, TN, where my parents lived for a little while after graduate school. I don’t quite remember what they did but I know they worked to spoil me. My parents didn’t make much money but they really understood the value of growing up around positive influences. When I wasn’t being taken care by my grandparents, I was spending my days in Memphis’ top (and expensive) daycares. They decided that instead of spending the hard earned money on themselves, they spent it on me. Can you imagine spend half your salary on a tiny human who can’t even appreciate what you’re doing?
One of my dad’s fondest memories of me as a baby was when I’d run up to restaurants and start saying “餐馆” (restaurant). My dad would laugh and pull me away, having to explain that we couldn’t afford to go out to eat. I don’t think I was fazed at all by this news, as every time I saw a restaurant, you bet I’d be running towards it. It’s amazing that I haven’t spent all my money on restaurants and gotten fat.
It’s pretty clear that I grew up poor but I never really noticed until later in life. What really sticks out to me was how much time we spent as a family together.
My first real memory that I remember was going on a family walk in our neighborhood. I vividly remember a long hedge of bamboo right outside our community. I don’t know if this bamboo was subtle racism, as I lived in a community with other asian families, or if it was just coincidental community decoration. But all my early memories have been anchored to this bamboo hedge and how many times we passed by it on our daily walking routes.
Growing up, I’ve always been an outwardly shy child. But when it came to family, I was outgoing, talkative, and sometimes crazy. One of my favorite memories is when my grandparents were visiting, I decided one day to try out my biting strength. On my grandpa’s butt. I don’t think I bit hard enough to break skin or pants but I did bite hard enough to get a stern yelling at, in Chinese. I have no idea what came of me at that moment but I guess the crazy side of me came out. Thankfully, I haven’t continued this bad behavior of butt biting.
I’m not really sure what to make of this part of my life. For better or for worse, I couldn’t really remember much since I was so young. I don’t remember being poor. I don’t remember all the trouble I got into. I don’t remember being carefree and just playing. It’s almost like I was drunk for 3 years straight and have no recollection of what happened.
All I know is I’m thankful for everything that happened to me during this time period.
