Tuesday

I've now voted in seven presidential elections, and for seven candidates: Mondale, Dukakis, Clinton, Nader, Gore, Kerry and Obama. And Obama, I have to say, is the one I feel best about. I was glad, for instance, that Clinton won, but he wasn't my choice in the primaries nor someone I particularly admired on a personal level.

Obama is someone I admire. Our future 44th president is not only one of the brightest people to run for high office in this country, but also someone of extraordinary character. He'll face some of the toughest challenges of our lifetimes, but if anyone is up to the job, I believe he is.

***

Of "my" seven elections, the biggest letdown was probably 2004. The exit polls, Zogby, Wonkette...a Kerry victory seemed in the works. Watching the network coverage, I listened for the code language the anchors and analysts use when they want to signal the result unofficially. It wasn't what we hoped to hear.

***

Among other things, 2000 was my first "internet election". The tallies were available online as they came in. So were the recount numbers. It was fun, though not enough to relieve the overall bitterness.

***

By Election Day in 1996, there was little chance of Bob Dole becoming commander in chief. I voted for Nader instead. I felt that of the available choices, he had done the most to change things in this country for the better. Before Nader came along, consumer safety here wasn't too much better than in China today. That's what China needs: a Nader. Unfortunately, if one exists, he's probably under house arrest.

***

Dukakis was a huge disappointment for those of us of Greek or part-Greek descent. The world's only unemotional Greek, people joked at the time...

***

Only good thing I can say about the Mondale campaign is that I met my college girlfriend while doing phone bank duty. Oh, and I took the metro into DC one day to hear Geraldine Ferraro speak.

***

Obama will be our first African-American president, and he will also be our first mixed-race president. I'm glad that my kids will grow up in a country where the color and gender barriers have been broken. Finally.

Conversation with my daughter (in car)

HEIDI -- Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy? Candy.

(Pause for effect). Daddy! Candy!

Dad glances at rear view mirror.

DAD -- Somebody here like candy?

HEIDI -- Candy! Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy.

Preschool -- first day, last day

September 2006

August 2008

Transition

Last week of pre-school. Today when I came to pick Michael up, his folder -- the blue one that usually sits on a desk in the classroom, containing his "daily sheet" and latest artwork -- was now in his cubby.

"I take this home?" I asked the teacher.
"Yup," she said. "He's all done here."

Monday, he enters the world of institutionalized public education. None of his pre-school friends are attending the same school. Instead of the kids he's known for a year, in some cases two years, it will be a bunch of strange faces.

He's familiar with the school itself though -- it's across the street from us. We sometimes take him and his sister over to the playground.

I have exactly two memories of the equivalent time in my life. The first: blue sleeping mats. The second: a teacher got irritated with me for asking why kindergarten wasn't spelled "kindergarden."

Back

Three weeks in noisy, dusty, vibrant China. Haven't had time since coming back to write any of it down...

Highlights included: trek to Shaolin monastery with my dad-in-law (who does not speak English); watching my son and his newfound buddies catch cicadas after a rain; eliciting curious stares as my daughter rode in her "piggyback" carrier (courtesy of REI); eating Chinese-style with relatives, with dozens of dishes -- ranging from mouthwatering to eerie -- piled one on the other; the nightly neighborhood dance fest, kids chasing each other with glow-in-the-dark swords while their parents swung hips to pop tunes by Jolin Tsai; and trying to put my three years of Chinese study into practice (mixed results). It was wild and fun and certainly different, and I miss it, though it's also good to be back.

What she said...

twinkle (American flag outside daycare has stars on it)

tang (means "hot" in Chinese; car seat arm is warm)

water (in sports container wedged between the two car seats)

twinkle (star stickers pasted to tricycle)

ding (bell on tricycle)

hua (means "flower" in Chinese; seedpods hanging from maple tree)

no (time to go inside for dinner)

ding-dong (doorbell)

ping-guo (means "apple" in Chinese; a Zingo game piece has a picture of an apple of it)

twinkle (a sheet of star stickers on the table)

tang (lima beans are warm)

dou-dou (means "beans" in Chinese)

water, ge-ge (Brother spilled soup on his pants)

la (food is spicy)

maiyi (means "ant" in Chinese)

no (I don't want any sweet potato)

Mama

no, no, no, no. no! (finger in nostril)

water (daddy, give me your water glass)

hua (Mom has flower designs on her dress)

mei-le (means "none" in Chinese; lima beans are gone)

down (wants to sit on one of the big people chairs)

mei-le (no soup left in Ge-ge's bowl)

hua (means "draw" in Chinese; wants me to give her a pen)

whoa (throws pen and paper on floor)

Big question

Recently, Mike has started asking me about death. At four, he's old enough to have registered certain facts about nature and to draw inferences. He raised the topic one afternoon while we -- just me and him -- were at the supermarket.

I'd just finished bagging some broccoli. As we moved out of the veggie section and into the kimchi aisle (this was at Lotte), we passed an elderly, decrepit lady. Shortly afterwards, Mike asked me if people could be 200 years old.

"Not really," I told him. "That would pretty old. Some people are 100, though."

He thought about this. "Can people die?" he asked.

"Ah, well, yes," I told him. "People can die."

"How?"

"When people get very old, their bodies are all tired out." Just then I remembered that we could use some bean sprouts, so I pushed the cart back into the veggies section.

"Have you seen anyone die?" he asked, while I struggled with a plastic bag.

I thought about my grandmother, who died last spring, about half a year after being diagnosed with a brain tumor. Although I wasn't there at the moment of her death, I had visited her a few weeks before. I certainly felt I had been witness to her dying.

"No, not really," I told Mike. And then we headed off in search of tomatoes.

***

Sunday, on our way to his Chinese class, he had further questions. "How old do you have to be to die?" he asked from the back seat.

"Well, usually people are very old. A hundred, say."

"You said a hundred, not one hundred. A hundred is bigger than one hundred," he began to reason. "That means it could be one hundred and fifty four million thousand."

"Hmm…"

"How do people die?" he again wanted to know.

"When people are very old, they become worn out. Their bodies are tired and they don't have energy any more." I had to brake abruptly, as a car in front of me stopped to make a turn. "Also, if there's a bad accident..."

"Like if a car drives across you?"

"Right. That's why we have to be careful around cars."

Mike told me a story he heard in school, about some guy who could lift Jeeps. The Jeep, he said, went on top of this person but he didn't even have to go to the hospital. I said he must have been pretty tough and that maybe he exercised a lot.

"Daddy, when are you going to die?"

"Ah. hopefully not for a long time!" I said. We passed a building under construction and some cranes, and went over a speed bump.

"When I am a hundred years old, I am going to have a lot of energy, and I won't be tired," Mike told me.

"Great!" I said. "So you should eat your vegetables!"