Pressure Cooker

It's funny that for me, it's the little things that remind me of my parents. While I was at Macy's yesterday, I came up some pressure cookers, and they reminded me of the one my parents had. Mom used it a lot to make rice soup, rice, and stew. It cooked really fast, and everything tasted very good. I especially like the rice soup my mom made: she'd put different types of rice and a little green peas, dates, and sugar, and after half an hour of cooking the rice soup became really rich and thick. I might have mentioned it in other posts but I don't mind saying it again: my parents' cooking was like no one else's. I can't tell what made it so good, whether it was the way Mom cooked things, or the fresh ingredients, or because I just became accustomed to it.

I remember very clearly that they cooked together alot. Mom did most of the actual cooking: stir-frying,  sauteing, boiling, but Dad got the vegetable from the garden, washed them one by one, and cut them up for her. Eating at the Cheng's house was an ordeal, on average I'd say they each spent an hour preparing a meal, although they sometimes might spread the work throughout the day.

How can I put to words what I have lost?

I think shortly after they passed away I watched a movie called Ratatouille, about a mouse wanting to be chef. Towards the end of the movie, the mouse served up a humble dish, Ratatouille, to a highly demanding and harsh food critic. It was rather unimpressive in its appearance, but when the food critic took one bite of it, he had a out of body experience, where he remembers this was exactly how his mother made it for him when he had a bad day.That meal changed his whole outlook on life, and he became a happier man.

That's the way I felt about my parents' cooking. They cooked humble meals, using little portion of meat and sauces, but the food always comes out so flavorful. Its not the type of food you'd serve to guests, but man I'd give anything to just taste one of their steam buns or dumplings! I feel like a kid again when I eat their food.

Timmy looking at my parents photos

Amy recently hung a picture of my mom in the apartment, and another one with my mom and dad. They were really great pictures. The picture with just my mom was taken at my wedding; she looked really good, with her new dress and bouquet. The picture of both of them were taken for the church registry, sometime in March of last year, 3 months before they passed away.
I showed them to Timothy yesterday and he looked at them for a long time. I was at a loss of what to say to him. It really pained me to think that Timmy never saw them in real life, and that my parents never saw Timmy. Once he grows up I will have to explain this to him, and I just know this isn't going to be easy.

Our Father in Heaven

I have not posted anything in the past couple of month, but for the year 2012, God willing, I will post something every week, so that I can keep the memories of my parents alive and that my children will know their grandparents and the family past of the Cheng's.
The last time I thought of my parents was in Christmas of 2011. Amy, I and Timmy were at the Bate's house, gathered together for dinner. Before we ate, Daddy Mike prayed to bless the food, saying "Father..." I didn't recall anything else he said, but I just realize that he almost always begins his prayers with "Father..." Now I don't really do that, I just say "God ..." or "Lord ...". That made me think for a long time.
Two days later, when I was talking to Amy, I told her about this. I realize that even though I have lost my father, I have a heavenly Father. I always acknowledged Him as Father, but I never saw Him as Father. That realization brought me to tears. It is emotional to me to think that way, to treat God as your parent, to think of yourself as part of God's family; it brings a warmth deep in my soul.
Realizing that God is your Father is a very powerful notion! That means I must live my life as He lives, just the same way I saw my earthly father and walked in his footsteps. That means He provides for me in the same way my earthly father provided for me. That means He gives me a sense of stability and security in the same way my earthly father had given me. And of course He can do that so much more than my earthly father! I am thankful for my dad, Denghui. He was honest, genuine, and hard-working. He loved me and my mother; he sacrificed a lot for us. I admire his courage.

Something else also caught my eyes in terms of the parent-child relationship. In Genesis 2 it said that God brought animals to Adam to see what he would name them, and whatever name Adam gave, that was its name. I find the way God the Father looking at Adam is somewhat parallel to the way I look at Timothy, my son. I delight in looking at Timothy, as he tries to explore his environment. He grabs things, feels with his hands, slowly bringing them to his mouth, and will try to put them in his mouth even though they are too big to fit in. I am always curious to see what new things he will learn (at nearly 5 months, he is learning new things every day). I can't help but think that as God was looking at Adam, giving names to animals, that He was delighted to see that.

My first day at school in the US

  I haven't written a blog in awhile.Partly its because Timmy's birth and coping with parenthood, partly because I have not been so disciplined in my blogging. But the sun starts to go down earlier than usual, my mom's birthday went by several days ago, and I am having flashbacks of memories of my dad. All of these things make me feel a little depressed, makes me long for my parents.
  One of my most vivid memories has to be my first day at school in the US. It was quite a transition for an eleven year old Chinese boy from Xianyang to go to school in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
  Me and Mom came to the US in February 1993, by that time Dad had already lived in the US for a year. Very quickly after me and Mom arrived, we moved to a different apartment in Shorewood, because they had heard that the school system was better there. Within matter of days since I got to the US, we moved to a new place, and I started school.
  Things were always kind of hectic, at least I felt that way. Not knowing anything, don't speak a word of English, don't have a clue. My dad, the night before I was supposed to go to school, sat down with me, and sort of gave me some details about the elementary school. He said it was nice, there was a program for foreign kids, and lunch was provided. He also taught me one English sentence, which was "could you show me where the bathroom is?". Once I understood what the word "bathroom" is, I figured that that's all I need to know. The next day, Mom and Dad drove me to school. I remember being registered at the school and off I went.
  So you can imagine the cultural shock that I was experiencing. I was surrounded by people with white skin and blonde hair, in a school that was completely different than my elementary school in China, and I had no idea of how to get home after school. I don't remember too much of the time I spent at school. But I clearly remembered what happened afterward, something that I will treasure all of my life.
  When school was over, I walked out of the building, and I had this great fear. I have no idea where I am, where home is. I felt so alone and helpless and abandoned. I think my parents, who were very new at this whole thing as well, must have forgotten to tell me that they were going to pick me up.
  But I had taken no more than three steps out of the door before I heard my mom call my name. I remember that moment so clearly, that in a sea of unfamiliar people the only one I recognize was my mom, in her green winter coat and jeans. I was so glad! My heart feelt so relieved.
  On our way home Mom took me to Walgreens. We just walked through the aisles, in wonder of all the items on the shelves. We had never seen anything like this when we were in China, so many things to choose from, all there for you to marvel at. My first feeling was we could never ever afford anything in here, we were so poor. She said it must have been very hard for me, to adjust to everything, and she wanted to buy me some candy. She took out a few dollars that Dad had given her. I saw this bunny shaped chocolate that looks good, and it was only like a dollar or so. She wanted to get it for me, and then she hesitated, and told me she buy stuff for me later on. I fully understood, since we were really short on money at the time, and I was just glad that Mom had that intention.
  Below are some pictures taken around that time, when we were at Shorewood around August of 1993. Here is a picture of me at the elementary school. I look so silly with that outfit but whatever.

  Here is a picture of my mom. 

  We stayed at this small, 1br apartment on top of a bakery store. Here is a picture of me and my dad just chilling outside, relaxing. The summers were nice because Dad didn't have to take classes, which freed alot of his time, which allowed us to hang out more.

  Here is a picture of my parents on that same bench, looking very happy.

Here is me and my dad in front of the apartment door.

This is a picture of my mom, trying to learn some English, with her tape recorder and dictionary. In the background is Dad's terminal. This is before the age of personal computers, where one must log on to a central computer to check emails and do work.

I lived in the living room, where a small bed was set up for me. There was a small table next to the bed which I did homework on. 

 Here is our dining room, and we were having pizza for dinner. When we were by ourselves, even up to recently, if we had pizza in our house Mom would always cook some vegetable stir-fry and some soup. Its a little weird to eat pizza with chopsticks, I agree, but I liked it.

   But of course winters in Milwaukee can be pretty brutal. Here is a picture of my dad shoveling snow. He once told me that one morning he spent all this effort digging the snow out of his car, only to find it wasn't his car. I think that story is hilarious. I imagined the owner of the car, going to work that morning, finding that someone cleaned up his car, must have had a pretty good rest of the day.

My favorite place in the whole world

Now I love traveling. I have been to Italy and Germany, visited Rome, Capri, Florence, Munich,  Neuschwanstein. I have been to the beaches of Hawaii, and the vineyards of Napa Valley. But my favorite place to have fun has got to be this little park in Xianyang, where I grew up in China. I grew up going to this park, and I have so many memories and pictures from it! Let me show you.

Mom and me in front of the park entrance. When I look at this picture now, I  suddenly realized  how ornate it looks.

After we go through the gate, we'd stop by a fountain, and slowly walk toward the pond. Right next to a pond is this small little hill that I love to run up to. I loved to compete with my friends to see who's the fastest going up and down. Here is a picture of me at the hill top. I must have been seven or eight years old in it.

Me climbing the hill!

Dad and me on top of the hill. Yeah! I just conquered the hill!

After the hill, we continue walking around the pond. In the summertime it is really nice. There is a Chinese pavilion that we often stop by and enjoy the scenery.

Dad and me in the pavilion.

You are not allowed to swim in the pond but you can rent a row boat. 

My parents and I on a boat in the Xianyang park.

Mom rowing on the boat. Look the weird duck boat behind the picture. Right next to Mom are our lunchboxes; she always makes lunch for us so we can eat at the park. 

Here is me rowing. I guess we were going in circles, seeing that Mom put her oar down.

Me and my mom hanging out at the pond.

And then we'd hangout some more around the pond. There is a zoo inside the park, so we always go there to say hi to the camels, birds, etc. I like the zoo but I remember it didn't smell nice.

Me at the zoo, feeding ... I am not sure what I am feeding. Is it a reindeer, or a camel?

Every time I come to the park, I always made sure to visit my good friend Mr. Lion. He's very colorful and fun to climb on top of.

Me on top of the colorful stone lion.

Usually towards the end of the day, we would go and get this beautifully made candy, and I'd sit on the leaf benches that are all around the park, and eat my awesome candy.

Me sitting on the leaf bench and enjoying my brown sugar candy.

Years later, when I went back to China in 1999, I also went to the park and got one of those candy, and sat on a leaf bench, just like when I was young. Although, you could tell that the park is losing some of it luster--- the paint on the leaf benches are coming off.

Me getting back my childhood memories by eating my favorite candy in 1999.

When I went back to China in 2009, I again got that candy. But this time, I really made sure to take pictures to document how it is made.

The candy stand.

To get a candy made for you, you must pay a flat fee. Then you must spin the needle to determine what you will get. Whichever thing the needle lands on, the candy man will make it for you. It could be a peach, a gold fish, a bird, or a butterfly; but the best one has to be the dragon. When I was young I cried when the needle landed on something small like a butterfly, and begged for the dragon but the candy man will not give in.

The candy man starts with melted brown sugar, and takes a scoop of it and carefully pours it on a cold marble slab. With each pour he makes the dragon come to life: first the serpent body, then the tail.

Then he makes the scales on the dragon.

And then he makes the feet and head.

He even makes the clouds beneath the dragon.

Finally, he pushes a wood rod onto the dragon, and must carefully lift the dragon off the slab and at the same time having the dragon stick to the wooden stick!

And there you go! The girl holding my dragon candy is my cousin Tingting.

Me holding my candy, in front of the giraffe which I used to climb on. 

I also took pictures of the hill that I used to run on when I was young. It sure looks a lot smaller to me now.

This is the "hill" that I used to run up to. Man, it sure seemed  somewhat unimpressive now. But I just remember how hard it was for me get to the top when I was five or six years old.

Mr. Lion doesn't look as nice as he used to.

Remember Mr. Lion? I used to love climbing on top of him when I was a kid. However when I came back to see it in 2009, I realized that the colorful decorations on him are actually broken shards of ceramic. When they laid down the cement to make Mr. Lion, they must have put the broken pieces in before the cement hardened. And of course there were lot of sharp edges. I was quite surprised; I don't remember Mr. Lion as being dangerous to play on at all.
It is interesting how this park has made such a strong impression in me. When I think of this park, I think of me and my parents, walking around, rowing on the pond, getting candy. Going to Rome or Venice was fun, but they were nothing more than exotic tourist attractions to me; they didn't mean that much to me as that park did. Its hard to explain, I almost feel that all the grand European architectures are outwardly amazing, but that little park in an unknown city named Xianyang is inwardly amazing, because it contains all those memories of my parents and my childhood.

Cultural Revolution: Episode 2

A propaganda Cultural Revolution poster from New World Encyclopedia.

  Cultural Revolution has got to be one of the craziest things I have ever heard. I just can't believe that it all happened. I often wondered, "How can normal people do these kind of things?". But eventually I have come to realize that yes, normal people can do these things (I can too), because we are all sinful and in a need of Savior.
  I suggest a movie called "To Live", a large portion of the movie talked about Cultural Revolution. The movie was directed by possibly China's best director Zhang Yimou, who also directed the open and closing ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics. Below is cover of the movie, from IMDB.

  Of course, to show Zhang the appreciation for the movie the Chinese government banned it (It won several awards at the Cannes Film Festival). In China, there has always been a reluctance to be truthful about what has happened in the past; talking about Cultural Revolution(CR) is considered taboo. Actually, the act of burying the past is universal---you don't talk to a German about the Nazis, or an Italian about Fascism. Or if you come from a dysfunctional family you don't tell anyone about your past experiences.
  But if you don't talk about these things, doesn't it still have a hold on you? Has that wound still not been healed, and isn't that why you can't bear to bring it up? If you are a Christian and you never talked about your past failures and pretend that everything is fine, didn't you just deny the power of His blood and His ability to wash away your sins? Do you believe that the truth will set you free? Apostle Paul never hid his past, he talked openly about persecuting the church, he recognized that his actions caused many Christians to be killed, and honored Christ for redeeming him from a life of sin (1 Cor. 15:9, Gal. 1:13, Philp. 3:7).
 We don't know how evil we really are without Christ. We would consider ourselves to be pretty good people, and we expect that a small portion of our society to be evil criminals or the insane. We acknowledge that we are sinners by our lips but deep down we don't feel that way. But the reality is that most of our "goodness" is only a mere reflection of our society. We obey laws and customs only because it serves our own self-interest, because then we avoid being punished by the law. Just look at what happened in city of New Orleans when hurricane Katrina struck. When the local government fell apart, people plundered stores, and police officers joined in as well. No, we are not good people, and we are all in need of Christ.

 My parents talked to me often of what they did in the Cultural Revolution. I think it helps them to process those events and accept what had happened. They recognized that they were not perfect people and there is no need to hide that fact. And I really want to talk about their stories because we can learn from it, and we all can re-examine our own hearts. I think the devil just keeps fooling us with the same traps, and if we learn from other's past sins then we ourselves can keep from slipping.
  I'll first begin with Dad. The most memorable was the time when the local Red Guards attacked his high school principal. I am not entirely sure if Dad was a Red Guard at the time, but very likely since every young adult was one. The Red Guards would typically tie up the victim, put a tall pointy hat on him, and put a big sign on him, which usually says he was guilty of counter-revolution or being a capitalist. Then they would make him walk through the streets to be publicly humiliated, and Red Guards would walk behind the victim and shout slogans such as "Long live Chairman Mao!!", "Down with the Capitalist!!", or "so and so is a Capitalist Pig!!!". Public hearing would be held to condemn the victim, where everyone was encouraged to come up and denounce the victim, how he is no good, what a despicable person he was. And most likely things will get out of hand, and the victim is beaten by everyone. Then depending on the severity, your job might be taken away, your property might be confiscated, and you maybe sent away from your family to live in some remote village. I am not kidding about any of this; there were countless number of these attacks during Cultural Revolution throughout China, and all the estimates were in ten's of millions of people! I have included some pics from a university history site, picture below shows what a public hearing was like.

  As for the principal, Dad was one of the Red Guards holding him down and marching him into the streets and then to the public hearing. My dad talked often of how vicious his fellow classmates were. He did it mainly for show; he held the principal by the arms and twisted his arms. Dad held him down but he didn't beat the principal; some just pretended to beat him, but there were some who really laid hands on him. Many years after the Cultural Revolution, when the principal was allowed to come back home from some remote village, Dad visited him. I guess he felt really bad about what had happened, and wanted to apologize. Dad mentioned to me that the principal was a very nice person and didn't deserve to be treated like this.
  As for Mom, she often went to the public hearings and she was also very vocal about denouncing the "capitalist pigs". But her father, Grandpa Geng, is a Christian and he urged my mom not to go to these things. Grandpa Geng visited the victims and consoled them, even though it was forbidden to do so. He knew they were innocent people and he didn't buy into all that Communist propaganda. But Mom was 15 years old at the time. She was very fervent about following Chairman Mao and being a loyal Red Guard, which was what every teenager wanted. Mom loved Grandpa Geng very much, and said that this was only time that she was seriously upset with Grandpa Geng.
  Even many years after Cultural Revolution Mom still felt a sense of loyalty to Chairman Mao. Mom said that day when he died, she felt as if God himself had died. She, along with hundreds of million Chinese, grieved for Mao. She often told me how terrible she felt at the time, as if a part of her heart was gone. Mom and I went to Beijing to visit the Mausoleum of Mao Zedong in 1991, which was 15 years after his death. When she saw Mao's body, she actually cried.

Mausoleum of Mao Zedong

But don't get me wrong, I love my mom and dad. They were not perfect; I didn't expect them to be perfect. These things happened during a time of utter unimaginable chaos, and they were without their Savior then. They loved me very much, and they loved the Lord, and trusted in His salvation and nothing else. All of this helped to transform them to the sweet and loving people that they were later on in life, for whoever has been forgiven much loves much (Luke 7).

I will talk about what we can learn from it on a later blog.

How my parents met

The story of how my parents met is an unusual one. No, its not like the romantic love stories that get made into Hollywood movies, but I personally think it is beautiful, and it should be made known to family and friends.
Please allow me to first "set the stage", if you will. The family environments in which my parents grew up in were extremely different. My dad's mom was sick for a long time, and it was my grandfather who took care of the family. Dad told me that Grandfather Cheng often had to cut corners, borrow money from friends, etc., to make ends meet. Dad said they'd often run out of food at the end of every month. Being the oldest son, Dad had to help out with the house, and in his spare time he learned about repairing TVs and radios. Later on in life he poured himself into studying, and I am pretty sure he was no "ladies' man". My mom on the other hand grew up from a family where both parents brought in incomes, and the family was stable.
Mom and Dad were very different people. Mom was out-going, friendly, and everyone liked her. Dad was not unfriendly, but he was very interested in "non-human-related" things, such as math, science, physics, and electronics. In terms of previous dating experience, I am not sure, but Dad did tell me it was hard to find anyone due to his family situation, while there were several other candidates for Mom.

It was my mom's father, Grandpa Geng (pictured above with Mom), who first crossed paths with my Dad. At the time, he was an instructor at a technical college, where Dad studied after he came back from working on the railroad. Grandpa Geng met him in the library, and was surprised that he was holding a book written in English. Grandpa Geng was skeptical that Dad could read it, and demanded Dad to read to him. Then he questioned my dad some more. After getting to know Dad, Grandpa Geng invited Dad to come to over, under the pretense of fixing the TV, and that's how he got Mom and Dad to first meet.
The story is not so impressive until I found out that high schools and colleges practically shut down in the past couple of years, and most people hadn't even received basic education, let alone to be reading highly technical writing in English. Dad was way ahead of everyone else. Not only was it not taught to him, it was illegal for him to learn these things. What a stark contrast with my generation! We, I included, should appreciate knowledge.

Since Mom had a close relationship with Grandpa Geng, Mom trusted his discernment, and that's pretty much how they got married. She did have her doubts though, when she went to visit the Cheng's family. She said she tried to not let his family situation bother her, but it was very hard.