The Love Story With Some Salt, Sugar, Ginger, And… Chili, Too!

The Quiet Grandpa And The Chirpy Grandma

That photo will likely be what my Grandpa looked like on a sunny morning at the park. I never met my Grandpa. He passed when my mom was fifteen years old. I saw his picture. He has this focus and calm face.

My mother was close with him. She told me that he was quiet, caring for his family, and most importantly, he treated my Grandma like his queen. My mother held that memory dearly; she dreamt of having that kind of relationship. I would say she got some of it from my father.

My Grandmother, who I am in love with (I can’t write it in the past tense since I am still in love with her), is the complete opposite. It would have to be a miracle for my Grandmother to look calm. She is naturally beautiful, short, sturdy, heavy, agile, witty, chirpy, fiery, elegant, yet sensitive, and childlike.

This was why she and I got along well. She never spoiled me; at the same time, she could be playful with me.

The one person that I remember who could make her cry was my mother. My mother is strong, and she will tell you it is as it is. At times, my mother’s intent to care for my Grandma burdened both, in a way; my mother could come off as harsh to my Grandma, and my Grandma felt that she was not as useful anymore as she got older. My Grandma passed when I was eleven.

The love story between my Grandpa and Grandma touched me immensely. Even though I had never seen my Grandpa, it was almost like he was always with my Grandma. Both she and my mother enjoyed telling me about this love story….The kind that’s salty like salt, sweet like sugar, spicy like ginger, and hot like chilly ( I mean: they have eight children, so presumably the love story is kinda “hot.” I am assuming!).

Food is the source of love in the Chinese culture ( I am sure in many other cultures as well). My Grandma never asked me if I was okay. She asked if I had eaten. Regardless of the answer, she’d say, “There is some food on the table! Go eat! A lot!” And, fifteen minutes later, she’d ask, “Do you have enough?” Again, regardless of the answer, she’d say, “Have some more!”

My Grandpa and Grandma loved each other through food. My Grandpa was a good cook. According to my mom, he was a much better cook than my Grandma. His secret ingredient: fresh food. My Grandpa wouldn’t compromise on the freshness of the food. My Grandma wouldn’t eat any less than good food with fresh ingredients. My Grandpa believed that a woman must give birth, so she must eat well. Well…it was true for my Grandma. As I mentioned, she had eight children!

Dawn, ocean, and fish. The town they lived in was closed to the sea. My Grandpa, religiously, at 4:30am, rode his bicycle to the local fish market and bought six “catch of the day.” He then came home, cooked rice porridge, and steamed the fish with ginger and a little salt to give it a taste. Nothing fancy. The fish is so fresh, my mom said, that nothing needs to be added. It’d taste delicious. My Grandma always got the biggest fish. She never had to share hers with her children. There were times when my Grandpa didn’t have enough money to buy six fish, so he would buy four. Still, my Grandma wouldn’t have to share hers.

Morning, market, meat, and vegetables. At 8:00am, they opened the store together. My Grandma and Grandpa had a snacks store called “Happy” (literally, in English word). Then, my Grandpa got his bamboo basket and went to the market. He always bought three kinds of vegetables, two kinds of meat, and some shellfish, shrimp being the most often. Then, he would come by to the last kiosk in the market to buy some garlic, shallot, ginger, scallion, and sweet onions.

Mid-morning, cooking for lunch, and morning tea. At 11:00am, after meeting with vendors, restocking the inventory, my Grandpa would start to marinate the meat and make the morning tea for himself and my Grandma. The tea was usually Black Tea; he had it plain, and my Grandma had it with two teaspoons of sugar ( she loved sweet).

My Grandma would attend to the customers and do the bookkeeping. My Grandpa hated it when my Grandma decided to chat with the customers too long that her tea got cold. When he wasn’t in a good mood, he would scream to my Grandma, and she would rush, end the conversation, ring the customer, and sit by my Grandpa, sipping her hot tea. Around 11:30am, my Grandpa would start to cook for lunch.

Lunch, radio, and Chinese opera plus Classical music. At 12:30pm, my Grandpa and Grandma would close the store for an hour's lunch. My Grandma loved classical music; my Grandpa loved Chinese opera songs. So, they took turns to listen to their favorites. Music and lunch were a pair. My Grandpa was a quiet, quiet man. My Grandma would talk and talk and talk. My Grandpa would close his eyes, listen to his music, enjoy his food, but he wouldn’t stop my Grandma from talking.

Afternoon, a cup of tea and crackers or cookies, and neighbors. 4:00pm was my Grandma’s favorite time, and it was my Grandpa’s worst time of the day. The neighbors would come by and chat, some brought crackers or cookies, and my Grandpa would have a pot of hot tea for all of them.

My Grandma loved the chatting. My Grandpa despised gossips. He couldn’t read the newspapers peacefully because my Grandma would get upset. 4:00–5:30pm was his worst time of the day. He told my mom and her older sister about it, but he wouldn’t tell my Grandma anything.

Dinner, checking homework and closing the store. At 5:30pm, my Grandpa would cook dinner. His children were at the dining table doing homework. He would quiz them in mathematics ( the one subject in which he required an “A” from all of his children), he would ask them to tell him the stories about books they read at school, and check the homework.

My mom's oldest brother got punished almost daily because he was the laziest. My Grandpa would spank him. At 7:30pm, it was dinner time. My mother, her older sister, and brother would close the store for the day. My Grandma would get her dinner served first. She would smile and tell my Grandpa that the food was very delicious. My Grandpa would smile a little. My Grandpa was not just quiet; he didn’t smile a lot either.

Nighttime, shower, read, and tucked-in. 9:00pm was my Grandpa’s shower time. After his shower, he would put on his pajamas, grab a newspaper or a book, and read. My Grandma would sit next to him and speak. He would nod, look up at her once in a while, and read again. Then, at 10:00pm, he would check on the children. At 10:30pm, he would tuck in my Grandma. They slept in the same room; they didn’t share beds. Then, he would turn in.

Until one day, my Grandpa didn’t wake up at 4:00am. He had a high fever. My Grandma was panicked. The ambulance came. He was in the hospital for seventeen days. He never made it back home. My mom was fifteen. My Grandma’s youngest son was six.

My Grandma lost her whole fish. She lost her morning tea. Nobody screamed to remind her that her tea could get cold. She didn’t get her first serving at dinner time. She had to tuck in herself. For a while then, my mom said, my Grandma was lost.

As mundane as my Grandpa’s life was, his life was complete. His life was about love, the love he shared with his queen, and he was quietly happy.

Often, we look at our mission in life as this grandiose picture. We thought we should invent this, write a book, accumulate wealth, and we must, and we should, and we should, and we must….

Would it be possible that our mission in life is what we already have? Within us? The simple crack of something, the minuscule part of us?

Maybe, if we could acknowledge it, then we could enjoy the salt, sugar, ginger, and chilly of our lives….

Carrie Kolar “The Wizard of Oz Phenomenon: Why Real Adults Don’t Exist”…that’s how I see my Grandpa and Grandma…They were never adults; they were growing together and never finished.

Indulge my thought:

I think the best love shared between us is when none of us are “actual adults.” That’s when we don’t judge, play with each other, tease each other like crazy, mad with each other, yet make up the next day. The kindness that children teach us….

Mind you: I am not speaking only about romantic love.