Extra(ordinary)

Prompt: what is (extra)ordinary about your grandmother? write a 3-stanza prose poem of max. 18 lines per stanza. writing in columns is encouraged. each of the 3 stanzas should tell a story about your (extra)ordinary grandmother.

1.
After a lifetime of service you remain completely
selfless. Perhaps selflessness became a habit for you,
like breathing, folding the summer clothes that I let fall
carelessly strewn about on the floor, or heating congee and
eggs on the stove before anyone else wakes. That morning when
you left for the market and returned, carrying a ripe watermelon in
thin papery arms and a proud smile, mother scolded you
gently, firmly. 都这么大年纪了, people will think we don’t take
care of you. The dangers outweigh your love for us.
And I said nothing, because I was supposed to rise
before dawn and go with you, but I failed you. It would have been
too heavy for me to carry anyway.

2.
You raised me, that much I know, but did you ever mention
those who came before me? My uncle and aunt you dragged to
adulthood in 河南, through the Cultural Revolution. Then came my mother,
the youngest daughter to be lumped with the next generation of
first grandchildren. Who had time for stories then, when the women
warriors fought with butcher knifes and sewing machines to
feed and clothe the extra children who they never expected to come
but took in anyway. Grown, they scatter to better things in the wide
expanse of the great world—America, 美国, beautiful country.
Back then, who had time to sit and rest,
or think of anything but survival?

3.
You were at peace with the idea of dying, or so I believed.
My answer to your rhetorical questions of 姥姥还能活几年？
was always 万岁, ten thousand years, a phrase I must have picked up from
TV dramas featuring imperial China, with emperors who demanded
eternal life and glory from their subjects and God, these warrior men who
could not face their mortality. And I (foolish imaginative child I was) believed
that you, with your wondrous stories and wise freckled skin that never grew
more ancient than it already was, would defy time’s passing.
and the world would stop here with me,
the youngest and last granddaughter of this generation.

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Some comments on form--

I love free verse poetry. When given no guidelines, it's the form that I default to, hence the form I feel the most comfortable with. Because there are no rules for rhyming or number of syllables, I have the freedom to craft my own sentences. Not that I don't pay attention to how the words are arranged or how the syllables sound--I tend to turn the sentences over in my head until they make sense and sound natural to me. But maybe what sounds natural to me isn't necessarily clear to others, or purposefully unclear. I know that there are still many elements of free verse that I need to refine in my writing, like the intentionality of line placement and word choice. But for now, it remains my favorite poetry form because it liberates me from restrictions.

My writing professor said that when students ask him if they have what it takes to be a writer, he asks them if they like sentences. If you don't have a passion for sentences, then the joy of writing is lost. Interesting theory. (at least I can say that I do like sentences and don't find the question strange.)

Grandmothers and Granddaughters Project - First Post!

This blog will focus primarily on the progress of my research project, which is centered on documenting the oral history of my grandmother's life. The blog will detail my process, from the preliminary research into gender and the Chinese Republic, the history of the Sino-Japanese war, and China pre and post Cultural Revolution, to the experience of living in China with my grandmother to document her story through recording, video, and photography. I intend to culminate the project in an artistic representation inspired by the materials that I will gather. So hopefully through this process, I will grow as a writer, record my grandmother's story, and learn about my family history in a socio-historical context.

The blog will also include my musings on the art of writing, oral history, and storytelling.

I will also post selections of poetry/prose from the Asian American Studies Grandmothers and Granddaughters writing workshop occasionally. This workshop was the inspiration for this project.

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Now that I face making my project a reality, I have a million questions. There's the logistics of the project: Am I really going to transcribe a lifetime of stories into Chinese and then English? (No use doubting my competency now, it will be done anyway.) How will her words retain their original meaning after being twisted and distilled to fit in the mold of a foreign language (that she's only seen on TVs and heard on telephones and from her granddaughter's awkward mishaps?) Will I even have enough material to transcribe? What if she doesn't really want to talk to me? What if she doesn't want to remember? What if it changes my memory of her forever? What if it doesn't?

I'm apprehensive, glad, grateful that I'll have this opportunity to get to know my grandmother because though I believed I knew her so well, I was never close enough to learn what she loved, what she was like as a young girl, what made her cry, if she was happy with her marriage, what gave her joy. Though I suppose I'm luckier than many who don't know their grandmas because I know things like what her favorite fruit is (peach), and that she would recycle the water from the shower three times before throwing it away and wouldn't turn on the heat in the winter to save money. I knew that she's seen and brought up three generations of children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. But I don't know if she got presents from her parents, if she loved her mother, if she was scared to leave home as a teenager, if she was resentful that she was born a girl (though I'm pretty sure she was), or if she was angry that the war, and then the revolution came to her door. Or did she rejoice secretly?

I don't know if the project would mean as much to her. I don't even know if she's especially happy to talk about her life with me (though I know that she's willing and excited about my visit, which makes me happy). I don't know if she'll hide secrets from me, if she would want to seem strong, if she would give me her version of the truth rather than carefully crafted stories--or if that truth even matters? After all, the process of oral history is giving the subject/interviewee/whatever you call the person the chance to dictate her own life. And for my grandmother, whose life seems to revolve around serving others when it could have been so much more, isn't it finally time for her to dictate her own life and determine her own truths?

But hasn't she been dictating her life for the past few decades? Hasn't all the choices that have been made been completely her own? (Was she ever afraid?)

(What were your dreams? What advice would you give an insecure, selfish, unoriginal young woman? Did you ever find out who you truly are amidst the violence---and silence? Were you lonely once? Now?)