Toronto

Ten years ago I didn't have any family in Toronto. Now I have two.

The first I gained through adoption, or more precisely “god-adoption”. Back in 2001, after I finished my exchange semester in Berkeley, I made a trip to Toronto to visit my childhood friend who had emigrated there with her family. Growing up, I had always loved spending time with her and her family. They were fun and generous people and threw the best sleepover parties. And her parents had an inexplicable fondness for me that one has for young people you've watched grow up, a fondness I can only describe as, parental.

This trip was no different. They drove me everywhere, encouraged us to go visit Quebec. One day, my childhood friend jokingly said, 'why don't you “kai” Susan?' (“Kai” is the Chinese word which means to 'make a godchild’ but it does not have religious connotations.) We laughed it off, but sure enough at our next meeting, they presented me with as gold necklace (a tradition) and asked my dad to grant permission. And so I became their “kai-daughter” or goddaughter. They take my children as their god-grandchildren. This year, when I was staying in Ohio for a month with my family, they drove six hours from Toronto just to see us.

The second family in Toronto I married into. Remember the boyfriend of the long-ago Canadian trip? As it happened, his grandmother and aunt live just a few minutes’ drive away from my godparents. I have since spent many happy weeks staying with my husbands’ aunt and grandmother, always with extended outings and meals with my godparents. Each time we go to Toronto, we are overwhelmed by the love and hospitality we receive from these two families.

When I reflect on the rich relationships I have in Toronto, I cannot but marvel at the providence of God in putting these two dear families in the same suburb so we can reach them. More than that, I see a parallel with my spiritual adoption into God's family. Perhaps you, like me, struggle to understand why someone who aren’t your biological family would choose to love you, for no other reason than that 'now, you are family.'

And God knows the hardness and the unloveliness of our hearts and still chose to love us. He loves us like He loves his own son. Loving us is a delight to him. Next time I doubt why on earth God should love me, I can take him at his word: because you are family.

Why gender equity at work starts with gender equity at home (and not the other way round)

I was educated in a girls-only school from the age of six until I entered university. My husband was educated in a boys-only school from the age of eight until he entered university. He comes from what I call a “boy household” – two brothers. I come from a “girl household” – two older girls, then a much younger boy (8 years my junior).

I mention these personal facts to make the point that is at the heart of my argument – that our childhood experience of the different sexes is the most influential factor as to how we regard the sexes in adulthood. If we want to change discourse between the sexes in society, we need to start at age 5, not 35, or even 25.

When I entered the world of co-education aged 18, I was a champion of single sex education. I was brimming with confidence in the female ability (and statistically, girls are more academically able than boys). Girls from my school earned a negative reputation and I could not, for the life of me, understand why.

Fifteen years later, I can see the deficiencies in my understanding of the other sex and indeed, my own sex. So far as the actual study or work is concerned, perhaps I was not disadvantaged. But outside the classroom, where most of life occurs, I was terribly naïve.

From my observation, people from single sex upbringing can become either: over-developed in their sexual identity – identifying strongly and perhaps exclusively with the external characteristics of maleness (e.g. athleticism) or femaleness (e.g. beautification); or they can become under-developed in their sexual identity – that is, they do not appreciate the complex differences between the sexes or do not particularly enjoy their own gender, having developed their personhood in the absence of the opposite sex.

I belong to the latter category. I walked into my course expecting to be judged as a sexless human being but I could not negotiate the dance between the sexes. I admired my female peers who could be confident without being feminist, feminine without being a fading violet.

Project this to age 40, is it any wonder that aspiring women still complain of discrimination and objectification in the workplace? Could it not be due to the fact that the established majority, the men, have an overdeveloped maleness and naturally incline towards the all-boy culture that they knew in their formative years?

Perhaps one way to dismantle the old boys club is to rethink the old boys school. Of course, school is but one facet of childhood but for some, like myself with little socialisation outside of school, that was my entire world. I think boys too would find great relief in the company of girls. The all-male culture can be mercilessly aggressive and men, like women, occupy the whole spectrum of personality. They will find a space to be masculine without being macho, manly without being muscle-ly, a leader without being a jock.

When children from mixed-gender upbringing enter adulthood to interact with both men and women, they can be respectful and confident. Theirs is a confidence that comes from a deep understanding and acceptance of the other, and not an arrogance that comes from empowerment in the superiority of their own kind.   

And we would all get along better at age 45.

香港的行人天橋

行人天橋 - 是香港其一的特色. 因香港人多擠迫,大厦向高發展,駕車和行路都向上搬,整個城市已變得立體,有3D的感覺.

我家有個有趣的講法,當要步行到謀地方,會接着問,'懂得行馮'? 因為行人天橋從一幢大一厦穿出來,又到另一幢大厦鑽進去.有時要去的地方眼見到,但腳行不到,碰錯路.

假日,銅鑼灣軒尼詩道的行人天橋聚滿了正放班的菲傭丶印傭丶泰傭坐在一塊塊的野餐膠布上,佔了每個角落,甚至在榴梯上,尤其在雨天,那怕難找到有瓦摭頭的地方.她們有些在吃零食,有些在聊天,有些在化裝.這天是整個星期中唯一天可以去見同是獨在異鄉的朋友了.她們快樂嗎?這是個我完全不能插入了解的世界,没有語言是其中之因素.但對我這愛静的人來說,放假被迫趕出街, 實在覺得有點可憐.天橋, 畢竟對無家可歸的人是一種避難處.

我呢?我愛站在天橋中央,望着下面來來往往的人和車,覺得城市已包溶了我,我也擁抱着城市.在這個地方,没有寂寞,没有空虛,因眾人的忙碌给我力量.

香港 - 究竟是一個怎樣的地方? 它沒有巴黎的羅曼蒂克,沒有纫约的童話雀躍,但處在天橋中央,我感到它有與別下同的浪漫親密.

My favourite radio shows (and podcasts)

In this age of media interactivity, one of my favourite habits, still, is listening to a good radio show. I like them partly for practical reasons - it's easy enough to bung on whilst doing some mindless chore or in the car. But mostly, I still very much enjoy the pure, unadulterated spoken word.

Stripped of the distracting allure of the face, the naked human voice is very engaging. I would argue that more can be said (that is, communicated) in 5 minutes on radio than on most other mass media. It is matchless in its sincerity. There is something conspiratorial about focusing on someone's voice, with its tremors and inflections. Some people call it a confessional medium - case in point are the lonely hearts who ring up on a late night show to pour out their troubles.

Here are three of my favourite radio shows (or podcasts) to entice you to fall in love with radio all over again.

Interviews with Margaret Throsby (ABC FM)

To me, Margaret Throsby has the best job. She spends an hour every weekday talking to some of the world's most interesting people, from ex-Prime Ministers to Masterchef winners and everyone in between. The conversation is interspersed with music chosen by the guest which often becomes a springboard to discussing the guest's personal life.

Such is the sensibility of Margaret Throsby (she's dubbed "The Velvet Throat") that you feel like you are eavesdropping on a conversation between old friends. Plus it is highly educational - she has a wonderful, curious layperson way of drawing out fascinating facts from experts. 90% of my general knowledge - science, music, history, anything - comes from my loyal audience of Margaret in the last 10 years.

Move over, Andrew Denton, Michael Parkinson; in my mind, Margaret is the best of them all!

A Prairie Home Companion with Garrison Keillor (American Public Broadcasting Service) 

Garrison Keillor might not be very well known in Australia, but in America, he is beloved enough to have a movie made about his show, starring Kevin Kline, Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin and Lindsay Lohan.

I first came across Garrison Keillor's comedy through "A Young Lutheran's Guide to the Orchestra" his parody of Benjamin Britten's "A Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra". One thing led to another and I stumbled upon the (free) podcast of a segment of his show, "News from Lake Wobegon".

It's a 15 minute fictional news broadcast done in the form of a monologue. It is wonderful, wonderful story telling - funny, evocative, spontaneous, wistful. His northern American accent (and occasional singing) tops off the small town nostalgia. So vivid is his cast of characters from Lake Wobegon that they have spawned novels - of which I have bought one - though not as good as the show.

You might laugh out loud, you may even shed a tear, but you will be smiling inwardly long after the closing credits: "That's the news from Lake Wobegon, where the women are strong, the men are good looking and the children are above average."

Thank God It's Friday (Radio Sydney)

I love Richard Glover's column and I love the show he hosts. TGIF is a variety show of the good old variety with guest comedians, guest musicians and people ringing up to answer quizzes. Sometimes, the reason we start following a show is entirely fortuitous. In my case, I happen to always be driving my son back from his grandparents, and in a terribly good mood after a day off. One of these days I will be in the studio audience cheering and laughing out loud.

* * * 

For my 30th birthday, my husband bought me a professional quality microphone complete with a pop-blocker - a circular mesh screen to accentuate your consonants and make you sound like love god Richard Mercer - to start me on my podcasting career. We did make a hilarious episode explaining Chinese idioms. It even had Kirby's original composition as opening credits. I think we quickly realised that a radio career would not be forthcoming but by golly it still sends me into fits of laughter - for the wrong reasons. Back to the listener's chair, for now!

Happy anniversary

On our sixth wedding anniversary - a little something I wrote for your twenty-seventh birthday recalling our seven years of courtship. Happy anniversary Kirbs!

The first year of love,
Taps on the shoulder –
Hesitates a pause before the song
To grasp at promises unformed
Only to receive its lonesome letters.

The second year of love
Laughs at sour faces.
Soft, like a ripened fig, slits
To find pleasure in a kiss
and reaches for farther places.

The third year of love,
Storms to a truce.
Boxing each within itself
In quietness of a darkened well
And still there is nothing to lose.

The fourth year of love,
How easy it does please.
free them will, unhurried dandelions,
let them pulse to lighter rhythms,
let summer make the peace.

The fifth year of love,
Lingers like little children.
One leaves to find her fame
The other stays to grow his pain
And so both seek a lighter burden.

The sixth year of love
Imagines a way home.
Might it so be defined,
the shape and contours of our time,
or might it go alone?

The seventh year of love
Brings a weighty question.
Yes, yes, a resounding yes!
No tears, no years make less
So loud an affirmation.

The eighth year of love,
He makes one flesh, one vow,
From imperfect then to imperfect now,
most perfect hence – a Son of sons,
a sun that burns where no love runs,
in days of silver and gold and diamond,
to love, like love has just begun.