LWE Chapter 12: Sibling Birthdays - March

When Mum and Dad were still alive, the birthdays of my parents and my siblings spanned each month from February through October. Both Mum and Dad are gone now so we start the chain off a little later, in March, with eldest brother Joe’s birthday, and have a little gap in July when Dad’s is. I thought it would be nice to pay a little tribute to my 6 brothers and sisters so here’s the first in the series.

Two Snakes in the Family

Joseph Cheong is my eldest brother and the second in the family. He is exactly a Chinese zodiac cycle older than me and I guess as Snakes we should share some common characteristics but I would be hard pressed to pinpoint many.

Mum and Dad, despite their rather restricted budget, packed him off to Sydney in 1971, to do his HSC and then Uni. He managed the first well enough, but struggled through the second, eventually changing from a BSc to B Optom, and in this new field finally made progress and qualified as an Optometrist some years later.

He remains, in my experience and opinion, the best Optometrist I have ever visited. Joe is thorough and exacting and every single pair of glasses he’s ever made for me were perfect right out of the case.

Early in 1971, Mum and Dad decided I should attend the Methodist Kindergarten next door to the EPF where Dad worked. Have you ever seen kids who wail continuously at school, crying out for their parents?

Well, I was one of them it seems. Short bursts of calm punctuated a general cacophonous desire to be back at home. One of my few memories of my 3 or 4 days spent at that kindergarten was of Joe accompanying me. He must have been waiting to go to Australia then and got tasked by my parents to take care of the pesky, spoilt, youngest one. I remember playing with some blocks or something one day and making a nuisance of myself and when a teacher leaned over to help and asked me what I wanted, I pointed at the figure of my brother who was casually sitting with his back against the wall at the side of the building and said, in between sobs, that I wanted to go home with my brother.

The One who Hardly Wrote Back

Eventually Mum and Dad took me out of kindy, and Joe had some respite before he left for Sydney.

In those days international phone calls were very expensive and had to be booked through an operator. They were very rare occurrences and instead we communicated with our overseas family by letter, often those blue single-page aerogrammes. Margaret wrote regularly from London and eventually when Tony went in 1974, he did too. Joe was the exception and hardly wrote.

I was then in Primary school and I remember Mum and Dad sometimes complaining that they hadn’t heard from him. It’s not easy being a parent separated from your kids - I know this intimately. And so I have some inkling as to how they must have worried and fretted though they hardly showed it.

Joe graduated from the University of New South Wales with a B Optom and has practiced as a very good Optometrist since then.

In time though, Joe graduated, got a job then married Hong Kong-born Hilda Chan. Mum and Dad flew over for the wedding and my father was completely smitten by his first daughter in law. At the wedding, Dad was given a carafe of wine all to himself, and suitably lubricated, he became a star. As the groom gave his speech, someone in the crowd yelled out ‘Kiss the bride!’ and before Joe could even respond, Dad called out ‘Any time!’. All recorded on video and laughed at by all of us for years.

After my Form 5, we applied for me to go to Australia to do my 6th Form at the school that Joe had attended in Ashfield. I got in to the school, partly by virtue of having had a sibling there, but I did not have enough points to qualify for a student visa so we shelved those plans.

The Younger Snake Joins the Elder One

A few years later, my Mum had the bright idea to apply for me to go to Australia again, but this time as a migrant. I was then studying at the Malaysian Institute of Art and generally bumbling my way along as I did for about 40 of my earlier years…

Joe sponsored me under the family reunification programme and despite what I thought was a disastrous interview, I somehow qualified in double quick time and before I knew what was happening, I was in Sydney, being picked up by Joe in his gold Mazda 626, whizzing our way past unfamiliar red brick houses to 83 Thomson Street, Drummoyne where I was to live for the next year.

Joe and Hilda were then expecting their first child, Ashley, who would come into the world in May 1986. Before that though, much was to happen.

I was too late for entry to Uni so Hilda somehow got me a job at the company she worked for, Charge Card Services Ltd which managed the Bankcard Credit Card system. That system was eventually to be taken over by the banks and CCSL was to be wound up but that was some time away yet so until the end of 1986 I worked first in the basement where I helped to shred computer printouts and microfilm and microfiche, then in the Computer-Output-to-Microfilm Department which generated all that stuff that I had been destroying in my first months there. The first was a tedious job with some mild drama every now and then. My colleagues were Norm, an old English bloke, Phil, a young Aussie and eventually also Theo, a Greek guy who never felt cold even as the rest of us shivered with our cups of hot chocolate in that bare basement in the middle of winter.

My pay was a little over A$200 per week - minimum wage - and Joe told me to save it all. I would stay with him free and need not worry about a roof over my head, nor the meals we had together. Instead I should save my money and put it towards Uni/College the following year.

Authority, Diplomacy and Firmness

During Easter of 1986, I went with Joe and Hilda to Bateman’s Bay. A holiday by the sea, this was cut short when Hilda’s grandmother had a stroke and eventually passed away. We rushed back to Sydney. And then shortly after that, Hilda’s father, who had been battling cancer, also passed on, leaving her mother to live alone in a large house in Day St a few minutes away.

It was a double whammy which would knock the sails out of anybody but that was when I first saw how Joe would calmly weather a storm and sort things out. Joe had been well liked by the old man who had seen the young Malaysian change from a long haired cigarette-smoking suitor weak in Cantonese, to a responsible business owner husband who could play Mahjong with the best of them. Joe had gained the old man’s respect and affection and during the family meetings that took place over the next few weeks, I saw my brother navigate potentially stormy waters with some authority, a little diplomacy and more than a smidgen of firmness.

He gained a lot of my respect then too.

Hilda and Joe moved to Day St to be with her Mum, something that Rosemary and Yap would mirror a few years later when my Dad passed away. I was left alone in Thomson St and managed, even trying my hand at cooking.

By this time I was working in a different department and working shift hours. My pay had gone up to around A$270 per week and I had thought that my relatively solitary life might be enhanced with a set of wheels to take me around and let me see more of the city I had adopted.

It was Joe and Hilda who sat me down one day, listened to my thoughts on the matter then casually suggested a Datsun 240Z might not be the best decision at that point. ‘Save your money’ they said. And so I did. They were wise words indeed.

Drama In My New Home and A Number That Saved My Gear

In February 1987 I entered the Graphic Design Certificate programme at Randwick College of TAFE. Joe had prodded me to check out courses and I eventually applied for Industrial Design at Sydney Uni and this one. Although just a certificate, it was a highly regarded institute and I was one of 75 successful applicants out of many hundreds who apply each year.

Joe rang around and found me a room with a friend who lived in Coogee, not far from Randwick. And so I moved in with Mark Jong and started college. I had, by then, begun receiving the Austudy grant which paid the $50 per week rent and my savings, now quite some thousands and spread out between cash accounts and fixed deposits, paid for my school bills, food and so on.

Design was hard work but I had a comfortable place at Mark's

The year of free accommodation at Joe and Hilda’s essentially gave me the resources to pay for college and I am proud of the fact my parents did not have to send me money for my tertiary education. I am grateful too of course to my brother who had made it possible for to save that money in the first place.
As for Mark, he was and remains a lovely man. Staying with him was not without incident though…
He had previously offered to let the room out to a troubled young lady who borrowed some cash then disappeared, so some time later the room was mine instead.

What was very nearly no longer mine though was all my camera gear. The young lady broke in on the first Saturday after I moved in. Joe had earlier helped by giving me some furniture and a radio. On my first Saturday living on my own, he’d invited me to lunch in Chinatown just to make sure I was OK then later gave me a ride home.

It was the radio that saved my stuff. I came back to broken glass on the balcony and all my gear - and that radio - stolen. Wandering around in a daze, I started cleaning up and wondering what to do next when the phone rang. It was Joe asking if everything was OK. It turned out that the thief had taken all the stuff to a pawn shop to dispose of. The radio had Joe’s driver’s licence number engraved on the back, and the suspicious pawn shop owner called the cops who traced the licence number to Joe and called him. He’d just gotten back and told the cops the radio was his, had been given to his brother and was likely stolen.

The girl was arrested and I got all my gear back.

The second weekend was a repeat of the first. Lunch with Joe then back home to broken glass and worse - bloody hand prints on the stairwell and in the flat. The young lady had come back for revenge, smashed her arm through the thick balcony window and trashed the place. The cops had been called though, and she was arrested. Real drama… though thankfully, it all settled down soon enough.

Always Keeping An Eye On Me

Many months later, I was going through a bout of circumspection brought on by a case of unrequited love. Not especially depressed, I nevertheless began to contemplate life in general and my own life in particular. On a whim I called my cousin and casually asked if she knew anything about wills. Like I said, I wasn’t about to do anything drastic, but my cousin, in some alarm, immediately rang Joe and told him to check on me. Which he did and in his calm manner, he didn’t ask me directly but instead invited me to dinner that weekend.

And other meals and meetups thereafter where he could quietly and furtively determine my mental and emotional state. All this was oblivious to me - I have, and remain, often unaware of these secretive moves. I only realised it some time later but will always be grateful that the same calm, collected and diplomatic manner Joe had employed during the bereavements of the previous years had been his approach with me.

Although my financial situation was OK, Joe decided he would like to make sure I got a little pocket money so asked if I’d like to pop in to his shop once a week or so and do some cleaning. And so it came to pass that John Cheong, who at the time did have some resemblance to Joseph Cheong, would drop by Joseph Cheong Optometrists early on Monday morning, open up the shop and set about vacuuming the floor, wiping the counter and shelves and dusting the frames on display. I don’t think I did a fantastic job but this was Joe making sure I was OK again. I did manage to confuse the postman though, who popped in to drop mail off as I was cleaning and called out ‘G’day Joe!’ to my back as I busied myself. This happened two weeks in a row before he paused on the third week and said ‘You’re not Joe, are you?’ I still remember that quizzical look on his face as he asked me that. Hilarious!

We were in Malaysia at the end of 1987 for Rosemary and Yap’s wedding and in January of 1988 we discovered Dad had terminal cancer. I made plans to move back for a few months to spend time with him, but I was too late.

Our last family picture before Dad passed away. I'm on the far left next to Joe.

The Younger One Leaves

On the morning of 30 April 1988, Joe rang me and said we’d best go back home as Dad was not doing well. I told him I’d put some things together, get a haircut then come over. He said no problem and so a couple of hours later I arrived at Day St where they were still staying. I rang the bell, greeted them and walked in. Hilda discreetly left us alone and Joe sat me down and told me Dad had passed away that morning.

He said it calmly and quietly then gave me some space to gather my thoughts.

I sat there for a few minutes. Tears did not come. Just a sense of paralysis and a weird stillness. This moment was not unexpected but was still quite jarring on my being. The man I had wanted so much to be able to relate to as an adult had not waited for me.

We drove back to Coogee, got my things, went to the airport and spent the next few days among grieving family and friends in PJ.

I left Australia in August 1988, taking that deferment I had applied for. My mind and my heart were not on my course and I needed to be back in PJ. It was only supposed to be for 6 months and I moved my stuff to Joe’s for the time being.

I never returned to live in Sydney. One thing led to another and I found my heart was still very much in Malaysia so I stayed on, then made my way to Singapore. Joe did help me dispose of the stuff I told him to throw out but I just found out a few weeks ago, he still has my LPs and some other stuff in a garage.

So maybe there is something we share, after all. A propensity to keep some stuff. He’s not quite the pack rat I am but he definitely has that element in his makeup.

Joe a few days before his daughter's wedding in February of this year

He gave an amusing, witty and captivating speech at the wedding.

Yes, he's my brother alright...

In all other respects, the man I once had a passing resemblance to, the Snake 12 years older than me, the man who in many ways had taken on fatherly duties to me a few times in my life, we weren’t the same. And still aren’t. I’m flighty, reactionary and more than a little passionate about things.

Joe is steady, calming, and reassuring. He quietly goes about making things work, can cook pretty well and is a responsible and trustworthy man. In recent times he and Hilda have become successful real estate developers. Joe still goes in to his shop 3 days a week and to me he seems not to have changed much since that day in March 1986 when he picked me up at the airport.

And for that I am eternally grateful.

Thank you for being big brother, and in some ways, quite like a Dad, and happy 66th birthday, Joe.

LWE Chapter 9: My Dad could be a Badass

I first published this on Facebook in 2017 but as it’s Father’s Day I thought it’d be nice to republish it here.

Is your Dad a real badass?

My Dad never really lost his cool in public - or even at home as far as I can remember. There was one time, however, when I thought he came close but ended up doing something so cool I've never forgotten it.

It was a holiday period and my brothers were in town from overseas. We went for a walk to my Uncle's nearby, and spotted some coconuts trees growing by the drain outside someone's compound. We used to have our own tree in the garden and as my brother Joe had not had any in some time, we decided to come back later to pluck some.

Which we did.

Midway through our chopping away, a voice called out from the house 'What do you boys think you're doing?'

Cheongs are Cheongs, whether they've lived in Australia, England or Malaysia and so my brother, parang in one hand and a coconut in the other, calmly replied 'Chopping down coconuts.'

The lady of that house then launched into a tirade, accusing us of stealing, etc etc. We protested, saying the trees were on no man's land as it were. She said that land was hers and it was no business of ours whether she wanted to put a fence up there or not.

We offered to return the coconuts but she refused, saying she'd make sure we got in trouble, so we said 'Ok then.' took the coconuts and left.

Early the next morning that lady's husband came calling at our gate. It must have been 7am and he'd driven around the neighbourhood just looking for the car his wife had seen us drive off in. It was my aunt's car and was parked in our driveway so he came to complain to my dad, and he did so in a loud, boastful and arrogant manner.

My Dad explained that his sons (us) had not known it was his property, and had even offered to return the coconuts, but this chap went on and on. Dad listened then said, 'look, they're here from overseas and are returning later today, so let's not make a fuss OK?'

To which Arrogant Man said 'Overseas? If I'd known I would have called the authorities to stop them from flying off today!'

That was it. My Dad, calm as ever said 'OK. Do what you want. But right now you are standing on MY property. Please leave immediately or I shall call the police.'

And that was it. Boastful Man left immediately, matter never went beyond that, we still talk about the day we stole coconuts from Loud Man's compound.

I, alas, lack my father's equanimity. I think I take after Mum more.

Or Attila the Hun.

[Pic of coconut from https://www.istockphoto.com/my/photo/green-fresh-coconut-peeling-gm505065330-83486477]

LWE Chapter 8: The White Moth cometh

Here's a spiritual story I'd like to share with you.

Dad passed away in 1988. He had lung cancer and the downhill run took only 3 months from diagnosis until the finish line.

During that time, he and my Mum were in touch with their good friends in Penang, Johnny Cardosa and his wife, Yee Hah. Johnny was a cancer survivor and was actively helping with a cancer society, so when he heard my Dad had cancer, he made sure to keep in constant contact with his old friend.

My Dad passed away early on the morning of 30th April 1988, flanked by Mum and my sister and her husband and my brother. When the rest of us heard the news, we all bought our air tickets or filled our petrol tanks, packed our bags and got back to the family home as quickly as we could. I flew back from Australia with my brother Joe.

A little later that morning, Mum received a call from Johnny who said quietly ‘Mary, I had a dream about Pak Yik last night, and in my dream he appeared to me and said “Johnny, I’m happy now”. So I thought I’d better call you to suggest you prepare for the worst.’

‘But you don’t understand, Johnny,’ Mum replied. ‘Pak Yik passed away a short while ago…’

If you're really happy, let me know.

Dad’s body lay in a coffin in our living room that night and as is the custom with Catholic families, the neighbourhood church group - the BEC - gathered, along with family and friends, to run through a prayer service. We had all arrived by that time, I think, and after everyone had gone, we eventually settled down in the house to rest. Some of us indeed slept in the hall near Dad. Bear in mind there are 7 of us so you can imagine that our house was rather packed.

Late that night, Mum, who couldn’t find the comfort of sleep, came out from her bedroom and into the hall. She sat quietly among us, rosary in one hand, silently praying. 

In her prayers she said to Dad ‘if you’re really happy, please don’t go around telling others. Let me know directly instead.’

The Chinese have a belief that a white moth is the spirit of a deceased one. And a short while after Mum prayed those words, a white moth flitted into the hall from the dark night outside. Mum saw it and followed it with her eyes as it flew around the casket, then flitted around each of our slumbering selves in turn before settling on the floor next to Mum.

Reassured and suddenly very tired, she fell asleep in the chair. 

The next day, she told us about this moth and at first, as is the Cheong way, we responded with skepticism and some downplaying. Still, Mum was convinced it was a sign.

No one really believed the story of the white moth

Nightly prayers are often conducted for a week straight - from the first day the body returns to the home until after the funeral. So on the second evening, everyone gathered again and Mum told a few about the previous night’s visitor. Patient and comforting though slightly disbelieving smiles were the most common response though no one outright pooh-poohed her story.

And soon they would have no reason too, for for the second night in a row, a white moth appeared as we all went through the prayer service.

This one did the same as the one before, or was it the same moth? It flew around each of us, the casket, and Mum, before flying up to the ceiling where it clung.

‘You see it? You see it?’ Mum whispered to all of us. 

‘Yes, Mum’ we nodded back. And so as prayers went on, that moth stayed put. And then, suddenly, one of the many house lizards that roamed our walls and ceilings put in an appearance. It spied this delectable morsel and crawled towards the moth in little bursts of speed. 

With each advance, Mum grew more anxious… ‘Aiyoh…’ was in her eyes, and on her lips. And well, to be honest, we were by this time all transfixed upon this mounting drama unfolding 10 feet above the murmuring prayers.

The lizard finally reached the moth which amazingly still stayed put. It sniffed the moth a bit and as Mum watched anxiously, it suddenly turned around and scurried off. Uninterested in dinner, it seemed, much to Mum’s relief.

The moth survived the night and by the next morning had flown off somewhere.

On the third night, as we prayed, who do you think put in an appearance? Yes, another (or was it the same one) white moth.

One white moth a month is already fairly unusual. 3 on 3 consecutive nights is beyond belief. And on each night, for it to be left alone by predators raises eyebrows ceiling-high.

Make that 4 in 4. For on the fourth night, it came again. And the lizard left it alone yet again. Oh wait, 5 in 5. Yes, 5 nights in a row, we had a white moth visitor.

On this 5th night, though, something else happened. This time, the lizards gathered more menacingly and as we watched anxiously, this time the end was different. The lizard came, sniffed… and chomped. 

‘Ayoh!’ Mum exclaimed. And I think we all gasped too. Prayers continued, then a few minutes later, something happened that raised all the hairs on our necks a little skyward.

For the second time that night, a white moth flew in. A second white moth. In one night.

Chomp!

Prayers were automatic at this time, led unhesitatingly by (if I remember correctly) my uncle Albert Rozario who had his eyes closed as he recited the Our Fathers and Hail Mary’s and Glory Be’s… The rest of us? We had eyes only for the moth as it flew around us then settled on the ceiling.

Chomp!

The lizards were fast making up for their earlier fasting, it seemed.

And then…. a third white moth of the night came in. The lizards were, by this time, satiated, so this fella survived to fly another night.

And so, for the rest of the prayers, we had a white moth for company.

What do we make of this? Well, I am neither very Chinese (more a Banana than a Cantonese, as I tell people) nor very religious. And I am quite removed from knowledge and practice of Chinese customs and traditions.

But I am convinced the moths were a visual message of reassurance, the answer to Mum’s request of Dad. ‘Let me know…’ she’d asked of him. And so he did, using a device he was more familiar with than I was, but one we all could understand.

Dad died too soon. Just shy of his 65th birthday, he’d finally retired and was looking forward to spending even more time tending his plants and going fishing. He and Mum would have been able to do things with a freedom they’d not quite had before. 

It’s good that even beyond his earthly existence, he found some way to still keep in touch and let us know he was watching over us.

[picture of moth from: http://bristolwood.net/2012/05/26/quite-the-collection]

Bucket List Part 2

Is your life just a short measure?

“You measure yourself by the people who measure themselves by you.”

I love this line. We often talk about measuring up to others, or being unfairly measured by some - usually our parents. Well, here is a way to work out if we lead lives that ultimately ‘Bring Joy To Others’.

Look at the people who look up to you. What sort of people are they? What values do they espouse? What, in the greater scheme of things, difference do they make to the world around them?

Come to think of it,
what difference do you make to the world around you?

I did a quick audit, had a brief check-through of my friends and family, ascertained (thankfully) that quite probably at least a few of them do indeed look up to me, and then tried to answer those few questions above.

Perhaps I have been lucky, or maybe I have indeed chosen wisely, for the people I have included in my list are on the whole, a bunch of people I would measure myself against most readily. I may not reach their heights, but I have certainly tried to emulate their integrity, their openness, their dedication to family and friends, their living commitment to those around them. I recognise too their frailties, just as I have begun to accept my own.

I think we would do well to occasionally look around us at the people who have chosen to be close to us and who see us as mentors or role models and try to see what it is within them that has drawn them to us. In there will be a tiny picture of ourselves and a good way to work out if we are indeed worthy of their measure.


And in the end…


“When he died, his eyes were closed and his heart was open”

I think back to my father who died twenty-two years ago after an all-too-short struggle with lung cancer. I was there when we heard he had cancer but I wasn’t when he went through the gamut of emotions that are companions of one’s final journey. He died four months after we found out, and two months before I could defer my overseas studies to come home and spend some time with him.

It cut me up to not have been by his side, and more, to not have had the experience of a man-to-man relationship with him in my 21st year.

But I take away more than a slice of respect for the man I loved. A month or so after he’d finally realised there was no hope, he said to the parish priest who’d dropped by one day ‘You know, I am at peace, and I can go. Any time.’

This was a man who’d done much, and seen much. Not in a materialistic way though for that was not his way, just as it is not mine. The things he’d done connected him to nature and to people. Perhaps a little anecdote would explain the kind of man he was:

Dad used to take the boys on a drive to the East Coast every year or so when we were kids. In those days it was a 12-hour ride and we stopped frequently. Once, we took a little detour near the hilly Bentong Pass. This side trip took us down into a valley and bypassed the slow timber-lorry filled Bentong Pass, at least for a few miles.

We stopped by a road-side stall to buy some fruit and when I looked up at a hill nearby where the new highway was being built, I spied two men on scooters pointing down at our car. They mounted their bikes, roared off then reappeared some moments later on the little village road we were on. They came speeding up, stopped, jumped off and greeted my Dad warmly ‘Uncle Cheong!’. Here in the middle of the country, miles from any town, were two men who’d met my Dad, become friends and who rushed to meet him when they spied his green Peugeot 404 stopped by the road.

That was Dad - a simple chap who never made a pile of money, but made heaps of friends.

And when he died, yes, his eyes were closed but his heart was indeed open. It always had been.

So, after the movie ended and I’d wiped away my tears - yes, yes, I can be immensely sentimental and a real softie - I picked up my errr laptop and started on these two blog posts.

And a bucket list.

But this one’s different. No, I have no intention of dying anytime soon and this list is not for a dying man. This list is for a living man. To keep him on track and to make sure he lives a full, rewarding life. One that would help me answer ‘Yes’ if indeed I am asked
“Have you found joy in your life?
Has your life brought joy to others?”

Maybe you’d like to do the same?