Good thing to blog about!

I still can't post on my blog... so I'll hijack your comments, Darren ;)

When I was 9, my family lived in a town called Ayer Tawar (which, in Malay, means "tasteless water"). The town was so small it consisted of a single main road with shophouses on either side of it. We had just moved there about a year ago coz my grandfather (Dad's dad) had passed away and my dad, being the eldest child, came home to take care of his grandmother (my great-grandma).

Dad had grown up in this town - and he was now a doctor, come back to open up a private practice, so he was one of those "small-town-boy-made-good" success stories kinda thing. It being a small town, everybody knew everybody. Everywhere I went, I could hear people whispering about "the doctor's daughter", and I hated it! I didn't like being in his shadow, I wanted to be known as myself.

I went to the same school he'd been to, a Methodist school established by missionaries, and quite a lot of the teachers knew him or knew of him. (Some had even taught him before!) Dad had the reputation of being a brilliant student in his time, so my teachers always expected more from me - which I also hated!! But I was kind of a teacher's pet too because of this.

Being predominantly Chinese, the townspeople all spoke a particular Chinese dialect. My dad is of that dialect group (which means, technically, I am too) but we had always spoken English at home and the Chinese dialect was totally beyond me. Whenever Mom sent me to the grocery shops to buy something, I'd purposely go to Indian shops so I could speak Malay to them. Or I'd ask Dad for the name of the thing in the dialect and cycle to the shop, muttering the word under my breath all the while!

That year, my other grandfather passed away. He and my grandma lived in a town one-and-a-half hours' drive away. I remember when my grandma phoned at night, Mom took the call. Dad was away on a fishing trip (one of his hobbies). Mom sat down on the stairs in the sitting room and cried. I didn't know what to do.

She somehow managed to get hold of Dad - it was before the age of mobile phones! - and the whole family piled into the car. Just as we turned round the block from our house, the car engine died. Dad had to borrow his brother's car instead (my uncle's family lived in the same town, just a street away from us).

I don't remember much about the funeral or feeling anything more than bewilderment and knowing it was a time to be solemn. I wasn't very close to my grandpa because we'd not been visiting them very regularly - we'd always lived very far away until we moved to Ayer Tawar a year ago, you see.

So 9 was a pretty eventful year for me :)

The main things I remember--Living in Bluffton, Indiana, running at High School Boys' Track practice with my dad's team, and having Mr. Monroe for 4th grade. We planted a tree for Arbor Day and I got in trouble for getting my jeans all muddy. I played soccer and was the half-back (though our coach called us "gaurds"). I kicked a kid in the shins so hard he bled, but I didn't do it on purpose--I just missed the ball, is all.

What lovely memories, Darren. Your ninth year sounds perfect.

My family lived on a wildlife preserve here in Pennsylvania when I was 9. Dad was the manager so I had a lot of freedom to roam and get into things. It was a totally awesome scientific community that I thrived in. I attended a private school (that I loved) with the children of the local elite (who I did not love). Mom and I attended a Methodist church and were pretty involved. My best friend Tisha and I were the terrible twosome of the church. One event I particularly remember is getting into major trouble over our roles in a pagent of some sort. I don't remember details but we were to play lepers and decided it would be a great idea to use bright red lipstick to cover ourselves with dots. We'd be so authentic. The lady who found us and our mothers didn't agree. It's actually the last time I remember feeling like part of a close community in a church. We were pretty far out in the boonies so I wasn't in a lot of activities but that was fine with me. I was at my happiest roaming the preserve and spending time with the animals.

When I was nine my family moved from a small town in northern Saskatchewan to the 'big city'. I found it quite hard to leave the small town where everyone knew me and I knew everyone. At my new school there was another girl with the same first and last name as me, so the school thought my registration was a duplicate. I made a new best friend and got caught up in her love of horses. That year my parents took me and my little brother down to Florida to visit Disney World and go on a cruise. I had never knew that the sky could be that color of blue before. Swimming in salt water took a bit to get used to. (I always forgot to close my mouth!) That year I was also accepted into a program for 'academically talented' kids, so I had to face switching schools once again. We started going to a church that I still call home, although I now live more than 8 hours away. My Sunday school teacher was the pastor's wife, and our class really had a lot of fun - and we became pretty close too.
I suppose that it was the year that really set the basis for the rest of my life - the people I became friends with, the opportunities I had, the church I belonged to - those things set the stage for everything else that was to come.