Lady of the Baskets

Ever since I crossed that threshold between child and adult, the relationship between my parents and I has changed. Far more casual than Confucian values would dictate. Our everyday dinner conversation these days borders on the irreverent - and would probably shock the staunch conservatives listening in.

It wasn't always this way though. When we were kids, my parents were stern taskmasters who ruled pretty much with an iron fist - though they would deny it vehemently ( character assasination they cried! ) if asked. Hell, the both of them are regularly spoiling the grandkids rotten these days, sparing the rod plenty.

Knowing my mom, she probably threw out the old cane.

Of course once my parents realized that my brother and I weren't turning into scrappy juvenile delinquents, they relaxed the house-prison rules a tad.

Hence the more informal rules at our household. Although some rules still hold - dinner's still a time when we all gather together at the table to catch up on the events of the day. Certainly no munching on a bucket of fried chicken wings in front of the tv.


Mother : You're not dumping me here, are you?
Paul : It's a retirement home with a golf course. If it comes with a mall, say sayonara.
Since my mother half-suspects that I just might be a heartless bastard, she spends this time trying to offer a sly reminder every now and then with her daily parables. Think of it as a regular dose of chicken soup for the soul - with an unsubtle emphasis on filial piety.

Not that I listen all that much.

Mother : See that poor woman abandoned in a retirement home. All she sacrificed for her children and see what she gets. So sad, so tragic.
Paul : Hint duly taken.
Mother : I'm not hinting anything. I'm just an old lady watching the movie.
Paul : Like I'm gonna do the same.
Mother : That's what you say now.
Paul : Yeah. That's because you're going into a basket that I'm leaving at the temple steps. Cheaper than the retirement home.
Father : Make sure it's a comfortable basket for two.
Paul : For you dad, it'll be air-conditioned.

Irreverent much?

Always makes me wonder what my brother has to say about the issue. With him safely away in foreign climes, I guess he's safe from the daily parental interrogation.

My mom can rest easy. Despite my untraditional lifestyle ( dating a man and all! ), I've gotta be the most conservative fella around. Blame it on my upbringing! Family duty comes first and it would never occur to me to abandon my parents at the retirement farm. Despite the superior amenities and care they supposedly offer, I doubt it could compare with the comforting presence of family. Three-to-four-generation households are common in my family and I don't think I'd change those rules.

And honestly I've seen tons of patients turfed from one of the numerous old folks homes that dot the city. Downtrodden, depressed and nearly departed is what I call them. Not sure I'd want my parents to join their dreary, dispirited ranks.

BTW if you didn't get the grumpy geriatric in a basket reference earlier, it comes from a cautionary tale of the doko basket ( with tons of variations on the theme ) on the importance of caring for the aged.