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The Whitest of White

A few years ago, for Father’s Day my wife bought me a DNA kit from 23AndMe. I did the swab test, sent it in and waited about a month for the results. When the results came back, they confirmed what I suspected all along – I was white. Not only was I white, I was 99.9% European. Like… very white. The bulk of my ancestry is British & Irish, with a scattering of French/German and some Scandinavian to boot. Here’s the statistical breakdown of Rob –

I’ve been interested in “where I’m from” for quite some time. But it took me until my 40s to stop being lazy and delve into my distant past. I had some help. A “history of” book about my family name was written in the 1960s. It covered present day (at that time) all the way back to the Middle Ages in England. So, I grew up with this book. It even said we originally were called Staunton and that we owned a castle in Northern England. But once the information age rolled around, some of this “history” quickly became outdated. And by outdated, I mean false. We didn’t own a castle. In 2010, I visited this castle. It’s beautiful. Everyone there was nice to us. They gave us the grand tour and we felt like VIPs the entire afternoon. But my ancestors never owned this castle. They did, however, have a tower in the castle named after them. That being said, I had no authority to usurp ownership of said castle from the present-day occupants, The Duke of Rutland and his family. I took the named tower as a consolation prize though.

The family history book, though well researched, was a product of the time. The writer, a distant cousin, did the research the old-fashioned way – visiting places, writing letters and making phone calls. My father and sister were much more interested in our family history about 20 years ago, back when I was a college student and only cared about chasing girls all over campus. Dad and my sis, on the other hand, took a quick jaunt around North Carolina, visiting the graves of my grandfather, great-grandfather, and my great-great-great grandfather, Captain Frederick. There’s a small family graveyard in Anson County, NC where quite a few of my ancestors, including Captain Frederick, are buried. I finally took this same trip with my wife and children a few years go as well, visiting each grave and taking some pictures. The land surrounding the cemetery in Anson County was owned by my ancestors, but fell out of the name many years ago. It was even up for sale and I was trying to think of a way to buy it so I could preserve the family heritage. I even have a VERY cool set of pictures – one of my Dad 20 years ago, and then me in the same spot a couple years ago.

Recent events however have given me a different perspective on heritage. Living in China and watching from afar as Covid-19 began to cripple the United States was horrible, but for me, it paled in comparison to what has been happening in the last few weeks. Race has suddenly become the most important hot button issue of the year – and for good reason. If you’re reading this, pretty much anywhere in the world right now, you know what I’m talking about – racial injustice. As I watched the news, the protests, and spoke to friends and family, I started to wonder where I, the whitest of white guys, fit in during all this. What role should I play? What role could I play? I couldn’t protest. I’m in China. There are no protests here to attend. Instead I supported my friends who were protesting – mostly privately though social media messages letting them know I loved them and supported them. That’s all I’ve really done though during this whole thing – support people privately. I didn’t black out my FB profile picture on that day like many people did. I haven’t plastered my social media accounts with open anger towards injustice or unconditional love for those that are suffering right now. And I am ashamed of myself. I have basically done nothing except sit back and watch. And during this monumental moment in time, sitting back and doing nothing is the wrong thing to do. This shame propelled me to do some soul searching. It led me to re-evaluate many of my life choices – some that were good, but many that were bad.

Let me explain. When I thought about race and race relations this week, here are some of the memories that spilled over into my consciousness –

When I was in 5^th grade at Wolf Meadow Elementary School, I saw a 3^rd grader on the playground. His name was Kevin. Kevin was black. I saw Kevin kick a red rubber ball further than I thought anyone could ever kick a red rubber ball. Kevin, to this day is one of best athletes I’ve had the privilege of knowing. I went over to his house as a kid. I ate apples from a tree in his back yard. I didn’t see anything different about him, other than his vastly superior athletic ability. But after those few times at his house, I never went back. The only times I saw him were at school or on the ball field. I made no effort to get to know him on a more personal level. I did nothing. Thankfully I still call him a friend today, even though I didn’t put much effort into it.

A few years later, my father brought home a young black boy to our house to spend the night, just so he could be comfortable and play with my toys. That was what kind of man my Dad was. He would do spontaneous acts of kindness for people. The kid came from a poor family. They lived in an area I believe was called Silver Hill. Though many white people referred to it as N**** Town. I don’t think I used the term, but knew what it meant, and never corrected anyone else when they said it. Here my Dad was, being nice to whoever/whenever, for no other reason than because he knew that’s what a Christian should do, and there I was, doing nothing when it mattered most.

In my Freshman year of high school, I played football for the JV Team. No, I wasn’t very good. I also lacked motivation. And was scared to get hit. Every day at practice, the defensive backs would participate in a tackling drill. Basically, you had to get past one defender and then tackle the ball carrier. I rarely made it to the ball carrier, because I could never get past Corey. Corey was a Sophomore. Corey was bigger than me and way more athletic. Corey was also black. Even though Corey could dominate me anytime he wanted, he always encouraged me, even when he was knocking the crap out of me. When I wanted to quit those drills, he forced me to continue. He forced me to get better. I liked Corey from the moment I met him. Corey started dating a white girl that year. It was a huge scandal. Yes, even in 1990, decades after the Civil Rights Movement, a black dude dating a white girl was still a big deal. Many of my classmates didn’t like that Corey was dating a white girl. They called him names behind his back. They said it wasn’t right. Many of them cited the Bible as a reference for why it wasn’t right. I didn’t see the big deal. I liked Corey. I liked the girl he was dating. They seemed happy. But, when people said those things about the couple, I said nothing. I had no vocal opinion of my own. I did nothing.

College upended my way of thinking in many ways. For the first time in my life, I met an openly gay guy. He was a great dude. We even became roommates. His name was Rick. Many of my fondest memories of college involve Rick in some capacity. Yet, when I went home from college for the weekend during my freshman year, and someone asked me if I had a gay roommate, I said no. I lied. I didn’t want them to think I was gay, right? Rick was white. But Kris was not. Kris came to college a year after I did. Kris was black. Kris was gay. Kris was one of the most talented performers I had every been on a stage with. Kris had more talent in his pinky than I in my entire body. Both Kris and Rick helped me understand how to love someone who didn’t love exactly like I did. But when assholes called and left hurtful, ignorant messages on our answering machine, I just erased them and moved on. I tried to hide the bad things from my gay friends, in hopes that they would have it easier. I didn’t protest with them. I didn’t speak out on their behalf when they were wronged. I did nothing.

My Senior year of college I was a Residential Assistant. I was placed on a Freshman hall, with mostly black football players. I got along with all of them and we mutually respected each other. One night I heard screaming in the hallway. I rushed out of my door to see a black kid running down the hallway with a chair in his hand, getting ready to bash it over the head of a white kid. I intervened, put my body in between them, stopping someone from crushing someone’s skull in with a metal chair. The white kid had called the black kid a n*****. While I was able to de-escalate the situation, I did nothing else. I didn’t speak up for the black guy, nor did I confront the white kid and use it as a teachable moment. I just went back to my room and hid away once it was all over. I. Did. Nothing.

I did nothing for so many years. I’m still doing nothing. I worked with a group of amazing young folks for two years. I was their boss for most of those two years. Some of them were white, some of them were black. Some of them were Latino. Some were gay, some were straight. All of them were amazing. These young kids, still wet behind the ears in many ways, were the first people to march, the first people protest on Social media, and they haven’t stopped. They are relentless. These kids deserve a much better life. They – Jasmine, Taylor, Burns, Travis, Alyssa,Carter,CJ, Amanda, Aaron, Courtney, and the others I am forgetting to mention – they are warriors. Social justice warriors. They are heroes. They are the fighters. They are the ones who are going to make this world a better place. Watching them these last few weeks has made me want to do…. something. I still don’t even know exactly what the something is, but damned if I’m not going to try to figure it out.

This is the first part of my plan – opening up about who I’ve been and who I want to be.

I started this blog post talking about my ancestors. About my great-great-great Grandfather Captain Frederick. I even showed you a picture of his grave. That huge headstone/memorial honoring his memory. What I didn’t show you though, was this –

See those smaller headstones? Those small, seemingly insignificant gravestones… are slave graves. My ancestor was a slave owner. The man whose land I wanted to buy to preserve my heritage, owned… people. Because of the color of their skin. I always knew slavery was wrong. I also was ashamed of America’s past, yet I still wanted to pay tribute to someone in my family who OWNED PEOPLE. It doesn’t matter if he was nice to them. It doesn’t matter if he let them be buried on the same plot of land that he was buried on. That doesn’t change what he did, or who he was. That’s not who I am though. That’s not who my father was, thankfully. I was raised to love people, no matter who they are. That doesn’t change my ancestor’s past, but it forces me to forge a better future. I won’t be honoring my ancestors. The people who were forced into slavery should be honored, not their horrible white master.

If the first part of my plan was opening up, the second part has to be stepping up. I’m starting with baby steps, please forgive me. I’m talking to my black friends. I’m reading articles about racism. I am reading books by black authors. I am supporting black businesses. I am denouncing the systematic injustice black people deal with every single day. I am voting for change this November. I am donating to causes that directly support Black Lives Matter. Do All Lives Matter? Hell yes. But right now, Black Lives are the ones that matter most to me. Black Lives are the ones who are being targeted. Black Lives are the ones who are being wiped away simply because of their color.

Black Lives Matter.

I’m the whitest of white. I’m Whitey McWhiterson. Most of my friends are white. Some of my friends might read this and disagree. If you disagree with me, know that I love you, but this post is probably more for you than anyone else. I am no longer hiding behind my white privilege. I am no longer hiding in a foreign country until everyone else makes things better. I am here. I stand beside the oppressed. I stand in front of them, as a shield, from anyone who would seek to oppress them. Black Lives do Matter. Black Lives should Matter. And it’s time I did my part to make sure they do.

I Got My Chinese Driver’s License During A Plague

One of the many goals whenever the fam and I disembark in a new country is to obtain my driver’s license as soon as possible. So, it was the same when we moved to China. It just took a lot longer to actually obtain said item than any of us expected. Between Chinese regulations and a world altering plague, today I FINALLY got my Chinese Driver’s license, 9 months after arriving in the country and 4 months after beginning the process.

Did you guys know there’s a pandemic going on right now? You might have heard of it. Covid-19 or something like that. Yeah, it started here in China. Or you can believe the thousand other conspiracy theories out there. I’m pretty sure the second gunman on the grassy knoll was Chinese. The Coronavirus did put a rather large kink in my plans to get my license. By kink, I mean postponement. As in, hey nothing is open here in China so you can’t get anything done. On top of that, the whole “getting process” is a bit convoluted. Being a seasoned expat at this point in my life though, I was prepared for what I figured would be an arduous task, giving myself the whole fall of last year to understand how to do everything.

Here’s a recap –

In January of this year, we purchased a car! Yes, we got a car before I had a driver’s license. Yes, this is counterintuitive, but my MUCH better half Alanna found an incredible deal on a very old car, so we quickly swooped in and purchased it. The deal involved the family participating in a Chinese tea ceremony in which cigarettes and a free kitten were offered. We took neither, as all we wanted was the car.

In any case, after some wheeling and dealing, the car was ours and we took it home. By home, I mean our complex. Which was also a process. We had to register the car first in our name, then get it registered at our complex, so that the gates would open when we entered and exited. Finally, we also received a private parking spot, in the underground garage beneath our building. Ok, I don’t think it’s under our building. It might be under another building. It’s like some giant subterranean world down there.

So I had a car, but no way to legally drive it. But like I said, I’d been doing my research. And by doing research, I mean Alanna used her vastly superior brain to figure everything out and then told me how to do it. The process was time-consuming and I began it sometime mid-January. I first had to get some documents translated into Chinese – some official stuff, my US license and the like. Next, I had to go get a medical report. Yes, to get a driver’s license in China, I was required to go to Hospital Number 5 (Flashbacks abounded) and get a physical. They were mostly concerned with hearing and vision, which I passed according to Chinese standards. I also had to get some passport size photos taken. No, they don’t “take your picture” at the Chinese DMV. You bring your own pictures, which they use on the medical form, the actual ID and a few other important documents that I can’t begin to understand.

After about a week’s worth of paperwork, I finally had it all ready to go and could head to the Chinese DMV to get my license. And then… CORONAVIRUS. This was when everyone went into quarantine here in China. Everything shut down, and that included pretty much all government facilities, the DMV of course being one of them. Getting my license was put on the back burner for a few months at least. I did illegally drive my car inside our complex once, but that is the closest I’d come to actually being on the road in anything more powerful than a scooter at this point in our China experience.

In late April, as businesses were slowly opening up here in my neck of China, there was hope (wishful thinking) that the DMV was opened as well. Since Alanna was physically working at this point, I urged her to speak with her Chinese colleagues about such a DMV opening opportunity. To our great joy, these nice colleagues said that the DMV was open! Hooray! I immediately gathered up all my paperwork, got a driver and was taken to the DMV. Which was closed. Not open. The guards at the gate of the place told my driver (who translated it to me) that the DMV was not open, had no idea when it was going to open, and they couldn’t quite understand how we didn’t know such a thing. So, with my head hung low, I headed back home and began the waiting process all over again.

Fast forward to the third week of May – in which Alanna’s colleagues informed us that now they were SURE the DMV was open, and that I could go apply, finally, for my Chinese Driver’s License. I grabbed a driver and was shuttled back to the DMV, which this time, thankfully, was open! Oh, but the story doesn’t end here. Not in China. The process is always a little more difficult than it should be. On this first successful trip to the DMV, I was allowed only to make an appointment, so that I could come back to the DMV at a later date in the week to take the test to get my license. After they checked my paperwork, they gave me a few other papers that I would use to pay, and also make my appointment with, which had to be done on WeChat, when I left, and it was all in Chinese, and I was thoroughly confused. Once I got home, it didn’t even work right that evening, but the next morning, with the help of one of my Chinese friends, I was able to successfully make the appointment. I made the appointment for a few days later and began to study for the test. The test is just a written exam. Those that have a license from another country don’t have to take a driving test. The written test though, I had to take. It is 100 questions, 40 which were agree/disagree and then 60 which were multiple choice. You have to make a 90% or better to pass this test. I wasn’t worried. I’m Smarty McSmarterson. How hard can it be, right? I found some similar tests online. Most of the questions seemed pretty straight forward and involved just being safe on the road. I would pass this test with flying colors. Right? Wrong!

I arrived at the DMV last week to take my test. It was raining, I was confused on where to go, but there was one nice lady who worked there that spoke English. As soon as I walked in, all the people working yelled for her to come help me. She told me the process:

Step 1 – Go to the second floor of the next building and put all your personal items in a locker.

Step 2 – Go to the third floor of that building, show them your paperwork and passport and they will set you up with the exam.

Step 3 – Take them exam. If you don’t pass, you can immediately take it again.

Step 4 – Go back to the second floor, get your stuff from the locker, then go watch a video.

Step 5 – Get your license.

I headed out, not remembering half of what she said. I did find the second floor of the next building. Seeing a bunch of lockers in the area kind of told me I was in the right place. Everything’s in Chinese though. I sorted it out – I had to push a button, which gave me a ticket. Then, one of the random 100 lockers would pop open. I put my stuff in the locker, closed it, then I would scan that ticket when I came back to open the locker. With my stuff put away, I headed up to the third floor to take the test.

They checked me in, and through what I can only describe as grunts and sign language, they asked me if I wanted to take the test in Chinese or English. I decided to take the test in English, since, you know, I don’t speak Chinese. Then they gave me a number – 93. I turned around and there were at least 150 cubicles, each with a computer inside them. I would say that half of those cubicles on this day were already occupied. I waded through the rows until I found number 93, then sat down and began my test. It’s all done on the computer, by just clicking a mouse. There is also a camera monitoring you the entire time, which you can see as you take the test. At one point during the test, I was keeping my hand up by my face because wearing a mask gets annoying. One of the DMV fellows came by, and in a very loud voice and broken English shouted “HAND DOWN”. I suppose he thought I was cheating, as if I had the answers written on my hand.

Side note – they used to cheat on the test back in the day. Originally, there was no English version. You just paid someone who knew Chinese to sit and take the test with you. What that really meant – you paid someone else to take the test. You didn’t even need to know anything. They did the whole thing for you. But not anymore, I had to pass the test all on my own.

Back to the test. It started out with most of the same type of questions I expected- the ones about safety and being a nice and courteous driver. But then, about half way through the test, it veered dramatically in a totally different direction. Suddenly the questions were about how many penalty points you would receive for specific violations, or what was the speed limit on an unmarked two lane road in the country, or what kind of sticker should be on your vehicle for the car to be legally driven. I had never studied nor even seen any of these types of questions. So, after I finished my test, I saw that my score was 80. Which was 10 points less than what I needed to pass. Oh, but I had a second chance immediately! And I didn’t pass again. I made an even lower score that time. I shuffled out of the testing room, made my way back to the second floor, retrieved my personal items, then headed to the other building and back to that one lady who spoke English so she could tell me what I needed to do. The lady was nice and explained that I could just retake the test in a couple days. I would have to of course make another appointment when I got home, on WeChat, in Chinese, but by now I am practically an expert at such trivial things.

Clearly though, I needed a study guide for this test, as with those type of questions I was severely underprepared for during attempts 1 and 2. An expat colleague had taken the test in early January and had passed, so I reached out to her. She led me to an app I could download. This app had all of the 1000 possible questions that could fill the 100 question exam I would take. It provided a nice way to study, gradually getting me to the point where I was comfortable with all the questions.

Alanna’s favorite question – It is not safe for a woman to wear high heels when driving. Agree/Disagree. The correct answer was agree, but we loved how the question was only directed at women So, if I wanted to wear high heels while driving as a man, then it would be perfectly safe according to the Chinese law.

After spending the rest of this week studying the questions on the app, this morning, a Saturday, was my next scheduled appointment. As we were waking up this morning, we were under a Red Rain Warning. That means, according to my wife, some kind of typhoon-like precipitation was in our area. Oh joy, that’s a good start to the day, Apparently, if this type of warning happens during the week, school is cancelled. But hey, DMV would be open right? I know what you’re thinking, but thankfully the place was still open and not flooded when I arrived. The only thing that was different on a Saturday was that it was much more crowded than during the week. Let my clarify though – while there were a million (that’s an over estimation) people there, China is super efficient. There’s no waiting outside in a line and spending 5 hours at the DMV like my previous experiences in the good ole’ U S of A. I went through the same process – I checked in, dropped off my stuff, headed to the test room (pretty much every cubicle was occupied this time) and took my test. Which I passed. The first time. 94% That’s an A. It’s not an A+, but I was never an A+ type of student so I’m happy with the results.

With the test over and done, I headed to step 4, which was to go watch a video. Now, I’d been warned about the video. It’s a graphic, real-life video meant to scare the bejesus out of you to make sure you drive correctly and safely. I remember such things like that in my driver’s education course in the 90s – “Blood on the Highway”, I think it was called. But Blood on the Highway would have been considered a G Rated movie compared to the NC-17 horror flick I was forced to watch today at the Chinese DMV. I won’t get into the gory details, but… wow… they showed everything, multiple times, in slow motion, and zoomed on certain parts that they wanted to emphasize. This video was all in Chinese of course, so I had no idea what was happening, only just watched the graphic images and scenes that it showed… over and over again. During the video, a DMV official came around to everyone to check paperwork. I didn’t have the same paperwork as everyone, so I was a bit worried. But after we translated to each other through our phones, he told me to stay in the room after the video was done and he would get me sorted out.

**Pledge of Allegiance to China to be Safe and Honorable Driver**

After the video, one the DMV dudes got on a microphone and told (I guess. I don’t speak Chinese) everyone to stand up. I think this was the “Pledge of Allegiance to China to be Safe and Honorable Driver” part of my day. We all raised our right hand, balled it into a fist and placed it close to the right side of our head. We all then had to read out loud some paragraph on the wall. Yes, it was in Chinese. I just stood there, thankful for once to be wearing a mask as the 100 or so other new Chinese drivers read the pledge. We all agreed to something at the end. I think I’m probably a member of the Communist party now. I’m really not sure what was happening. Everyone else left, but I stayed behind and did what I was told. The DMV dude pointed to some symbol on the wall.

He told me to go back to the first building, find that symbol and then go the window there to pick up my new license, in a few hours. So I did that. I found that symbol. I sat down and waited. And it only took about 15 minutes before they told me that Luōbótè’s license was ready. Luōbótè – that’s my Chinese name. It kind of sounds like Robert, but with an L. It’s written as 罗伯特 in Chinese. I had to write it like that a few times. I am totally not good at Chinese.

Anyway, here it is. My license –

I now have my very own, totally official, was a breeze to get – Chinese Driver’s License. I plan to go out and drive all over my adopted city. When it stops raining of course.

The Plague! A Coronavirus Update

Before I get to anything else, let me go ahead and update you on the one thing most everyone asks us about: We are perfectly safe, happy and healthy here in China. The actual risk of any of us contracting the Coronavirus are very minuscule. That being said, since the outbreak began in early January, we’ve been through a series of unfortunate events that I surmise will be fun for you to hear about.

Okay, first things first – a quick Coronavirus timeline for the uninitiated. And please forgive me if this information is slightly inaccurate –

DEC 31. At the end of last year, doctors in Wuhan, China were treating dozens of cases of what they thought was pneumonia. Days later, those same doctors figured out it was a little more than your typical pneumonia.

JAN 11. The first person dies from what is being called the Coronavirus. The 61 year old man was a regular at a wet market in Wuhan. Wet markets here in China are large open food markets with fresh meat, seafood, fruits, veggies and all kinds of other assorted food… things. The markets in my city are pretty similar, with the most unusual things you can buy to eat are turtles and eels. They are alive. Yes, you buy them like that. Then you take them home and do the deed. The Chinese like their food really fresh. The Chinese like many eastern Asian countries, enjoy a variety of fresh exotic foods – like snake and bats. The rumors are that the virus started with a bat, or a snake, that was eaten by a bat or snake, who passed the virus on to the other animal, and then THAT animal was sold at the Wuhan Wet Market , which in turn was passed on to some unfortunate human being. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. China is pretty closed off about information, going in or out. I’m pretty sure they just let the CDC in the country last week, a full month after this whole fiasco began.

On with the timeline –

JAN 20 – First confirmed cases outside of China in South Korea, Japan and Thailand.

JAN 21 – First case reported in the United States.

JAN 23 – The city of Wuhan, which has over 11 million people, was quarantined by the Chinese government. I mean cut off, like… you can’t leave. Go out of your house. Imagine that happening in the US? Ya’ll would go crazy. For reference, in case you’re freaking out and are worried about our location, we’re about a 12 hour drive south of Wuhan. And that’s just a tiny part of China.

JAN 30. – The World Health Organization declares a a global health emergency as there are thousands infected in China and many others in different countries.

JAN 31 – Major airlines stop service to China. The US restricts entry to the US, imposing a 14 day quarantine on people coming from China. By this date 213 people had died and nearly 9,800 had been infected worldwide.

FEB 2. – First Coronavirus-related death outside of China.

FEB. 5. – Hundreds, mostly Americans, were evacuated from Hubei Province and a cruise ship in Japan is quarantined.

FEB. 7. – A Chinese doctor, who tried to warn others, died from the coronavirus.

FEB. 10. – The death toll in China surpassed the number SARS killed worldwide. 40,000 people have been infected.

And on, and on and on. I’m tired of writing the timeline. Since this blog is about us, let us rewind and tell you what WE were and have been doing during all this.

When the whole shindig started, Alanna and I were on holiday from work. Chinese New Year was almost here and the kids were out of school. We had planned on spending a good part of the holiday in Hong Kong, just to get away from the mainland for a bit. We had just began to hear the ramblings of some virus, somewhere in China. Heck, I had never heard of Wuhan until all of this, and I live in China. Everything was still pretty normal where we live as we left China on Jan. 23 and headed to Hong Kong. Sure, some people were wearing masks, but with the air quality here in China, some people are always wearing masks.

We had a great two or three days in Hong, doing our normal touristy stuff – We visited a beach where found a 3000 year old rock carving, visited Hong Kong’s favorite son – Bruce Lee, spent some quality time in a Cat Cafe, and most importantly ate amazing food, minus the Pizza Hut and McDonald’s orders for our kids. But as we watched the news in our hotel room, we began to see the scope of what was happening. And it became quickly apparent in Hong Kong, as within only a few days EVERYONE was suddenly wearing a masks. We also heard rumors that it was now mandatory to wear masks back in our home city. So, we bought masks, or the 4 masks that were still in stock. Many reports today say that these masks really aren’t all the effective. I mean, they aren’t actually tight over your mouth and nose. Those little virus particles can get in. But, we wore them whenever we went out. At any rate, it made us stand out much less than we used to, so… bonus.

By the time the weekend had rolled out, we were getting ready to head back to the mainland, because we were expecting at least Alanna and the kids going back to school. I still had a few more weeks left before I returned. That never happened. Schools all across China were postponed from starting back, and pretty much all businesses began to shut down, save for grocery stores, pharmacies and restaurants. As we traveled back to the mainland, the temperature checks began. At length. This would sometimes happen randomly during a border crossing in China. Now… it was happening at every border crossing. And at the hotel, and at our gate of our complex.

Chinese officials were urging everyone, even in our city, to just stay indoors and avoid contact with people pretty much as soon as we were back in town. We really didn’t have a ton of food in the house though those first few days back, so we ventured out to the closest restaurant within walking distance – Burger King. The city at this point already looked like a ghost town. No one was around, except for security guards, police, a few people here and there, and those poor suckers who had to serve us a Burger King. Of course, we were the ONLY customers there. Normally during lunch time, its packed to the walls. Not that day. and not since.

The next day we took a trip to Sam’s Club. Yes, they have one here. And though its quite different from the American version, it usually allows us to stock up on a bunch of stuff. Not so much this time. You know when they predict a light dusting of snow and there’s no bread and milk on the grocery shelves? That’s how it felt at Sam’s Club. People were scrambling for the last best meats, the eggs, all the good stuff. Or at least the good stuff that we liked. There were still plenty of noodles.

At the beginning of February, the virus was in full swing, and Alanna and the kids were in the midst of online schooling. The Chinese internet is a bit… restrictive here, so anything online is going to be fraught with difficulties. At this point, we were looking at options for getting out of China. There was always a quick vacation destination nearby, such as Korea or Thailand, and we also discussed just making the long haul back to the States to wait all this out. In the end though, we came to the conclusion that, for now, staying put was best for our family. And by staying put, I mean we were going to hang out in Hong Kong for another week. So on Feb 7, we headed back across the border. Hong Kong, unlike mainland China, still has mostly everything open. No, Disneyland and most of the large public tourist destinations are closed until further notice, but the malls, restaurants and the like are all in full swing. So even though everyone walking around with a mask on and worrying about dying, or you know, China pressuring them into being more like China, most Hong Kong people are carrying on their day to to day lives.

Yes, this elderly couple is doing Tai chi with swords.

We stayed in Hong Kong until Feb. 12, doing the same things we normally do – relaxing at the hotel, eating great food, all the jazz. Biggest bummer this time was that, because of the virus, the hotel’s amazing hot tub and pool were closed. We’ve been back (stuck) in our city in China since the 12th. Cabin Fever is a real thing. More restrictions continue to be piled on us as the days go by. We all tried to walk to Burger King one day early last week, and on the way there, they told us only one person was allowed through this makeshift gate. So only I went to BK that day. They are doing this, from what we’ve heard, to restrict too many people in public areas. I mean, really. If they would have left my wife and kids, there would have been a total four 4 people in that area instead of just me. This past week has been more of the same. We are in somewhat of a routine now. We get up and make sure the kids do their online school work, we play games, we run around the house, we listen to music, I clean things because I’m bored. We have watched a LOT of TV and movies, catching up on many things we missed. Alanna says Parasite was just okay. I didn’t watch it. I did watch 1917 though, and Alanna agrees with me that it should have won Best Picture over Parasite. That’s saying a lot as Alanna’s least favorite genre of entertainment is war movies.

We’ve heard rumors just today of a new restriction. They are closing our “side gate” to our complex. Its the gate we can walk out of to get to Burger King. Now, if we want to get to Burger King, we’ve have to talk about 20 minutes out of the way to get there. Also, there’s rumor that only one family member is going to be allowed out of the complex at a time so they can monitor who is in and out. We’ll see how that goes if it happens. At this point, they’ve also shut down mostly all the restauraunts, save for a few that will only do take out.

Hey… thanks to each and everyone of you for reaching out to us. It does mean a great deal to know we have so many of you who care about what happens to our crazy nomadic family. Honestly, to us, it feels like a “first world” problem. We are terribly inconvenienced by what is happening, but it could be a lot worse, and IS a lot worse for a lot of other people. We are thankful for our health. We are thankful for each and everyone of you. And, at least at this point and time, we are thankful that Burger King is still open. For take out.

Hong Kong for Pre-Christmas.

We stayed mostly low key for the holidays this year. Well, as low key as we can get for our unusual family. We split the last few weeks into two trips – the first to Hong Kong, and the second to Macau, with Christmas right in the middle at home. We had to be home for Christmas, right? I mean, that’s where Santa brings all the presents. And Kevin (our Elf on a Shelf) was there, right?

Let’s tackle the Hong Kong Trip in this blog. From where we live, there are a few ways to get to Hong Kong – with the two most popular being a one hour ferry ride or a one hour bus ride over the longest (over water) bridge in the world. We’ve traveled both in the past, and I can’t say I really have a preference. Okay, maybe riding on a ferry is cooler, so I guess you could say that is my preference. This trip we took the ferry to Hong Kong. And for those of you who are interested, here’s what I typical family trip on a Ferry looks like for us:

Yeah, so that’s our typical ferry ride. Abby is overly excited. Logan is on his tablet, and Alanna? She usually has motion sickness. For the record, she didn’t actually throw up.

The Ferry dropped us off at the HK port where we moved as quickly as we could through customs, though it seemed to take a little longer this trip than most. Yes, HK is part of China. But yes, you still have to go through customs. It seems like people around here don’t like all this rigmarole. Maybe they should protest it. Oh wait, they are. Currently. We avoid that political mess though and move along with our vacay. We stayed at a lovely hotel on the northern part of Hong Kong called Kowloon. We had specific goals in mind for this trip. My main goal? See the new Star Wars Movie. So my kick booty wife booked a hotel that’s literally connected to a huge mall with a cinema. Goal accomplished. And I don’t care if you didn’t like the new Star Wars movie. We all enjoyed it. I got emotional.

My kick booty wife also has 3 kick booty sisters, and one of them just happened to arrange to hang out with us in Hong Kong. Sho (that’s her name) is a bit of a go-getter, so after raising funds by participating in a triathlon in Bali, she and her awesome BoFro George headed over to HK to spend time with the fam. We hit up the typical tourist destinations around the hotel, including the mall, a street with nothing but flower shops, a street with nothing but birds for sale, and then a street with EVERYTHING EVER CREATED for sale. You know, cause its Hong Kong. Sho even sprung for childcare at night so we could all have some adult time. We had some fantastic Sichuan cuisine (hot food) while hitting up the most expat area of Hong Kong, then ended up a local spot for after dinner drinks.

Sho and her Bo headed back to the States and the rest of us continued to relax in the hotel pool/hot tub and/or visit more touristy destinations. We hit up a monkey park. No, not a zoo. A park. Its just a large wooded area with trails that happen to sport a lot of wild monkeys. We didn’t stay long, as these monkeys weren’t the most friendly of creatures. They kept yelling at me when I tried to take pictures. And they even blocked our path in the road at one point. Do they thing they own the place or something? Privileged monkeys! We also took more strolls through the city, finding more weird streets filled with weirder things – like an entire street selling tropical fish and other sea creatures, all in a bunch of plastic bags filled with water. Just pick what you want and take ’em home I guess! We also visited Victoria’s Peak while we stayed in HK, which is the highest spot in the area and offers amazing views. Of course, the day we went it was overcast and the views weren’t spectacular, but still pretty neat. They also had some kind of Monopoly museum/amusement park… thing.. at the top. We didn’t pay to go in, and were pretty confused about what it was even after reading the brochure. We left the peak with a few cool souvenirs though. Okay, we left with two fidget spinners and ONE cool souvenir – a hand painted picture of our family names in Chinese Characters. So touristy but a nice addition for our family’s collection of stuff from around the world.

And on our final full day in Hong Kong, we did what parents do to make their kids happy – Disney. That’s right, back to Disneyland Hong Kong. Since this was our second visit in just a few months, we knew the routine well enough. We hit the rides we wanted pretty early, making sure to do anything we missed last time. I am happy to say it went smoothly, no one was sick, and no child had any major breakdowns. I call that a success.

OK, I’m tired of typing. I’ll fill ya’ll in on Christmas festivities and our trip to Macau next time. I have spoken.

Oh.. wait! Outback! Yes, we went. It was of average taste, smaller portions and pricier than the States, but hey… steak and cheese fries, people!

Pain – Emotional and Physical

Most readers of this blog probably also follow me on social media so you know that I’ve been on the struggle bus for the last month and a half with a severe shoulder separation and the death of my father. I’ve slacked on the blog as I’ve spent most of my time recovering from surgery and managing out the mourning process. Here’s a recap of what happened.

As October drew to a close, we were preparing here in China for Halloween. Alanna and I were going as Mario and Luigi, since… they are cheap costumes we could buy online. The kids were all set to be the captains – America and Marvel. A few days before Halloween, I received the news from my sister that my Dad wasn’t doing well. He’d fallen a few times and all signs pointed to a stroke. After getting him to the hospital, the stroke was confirmed and then it seemed he had another stroke while he was there. At that point, everything seemed to go downhill quickly for Dad and doctors ultimately came to the conclusion there just wasn’t much more they could do but to make him comfortable. This meant moving my Dad to Hospice. For those of you that don’t know, hospice is just a place where you go to die. They make you as comfortable as possible, try to manage the pain as best they can, and its generally, or at least in my Dad’s case, is a better way to pass rather than being in a hospital.

In the middle of all this happening, I was having some problems of my own – namely a separated shoulder. I joined a Darts League here in China just to get me out of the house some more. I am below average at the game, but it lets me socialize and have a beer or two, so I figured it was a good idea. I’m in a solo league and a team league. We played in a team match Wednesday before Halloween. It went pretty late and I made my usual way home on the scooter. It was dark. The scooter does have a light, but if you turn it on, it drops the power of the scooter by 50% and it goes much slower. My better half has told me not to ride at night. Apparently, I need to listen to her. About half way home that night, the front tire of my scooter hit some kind of hole and I was launched over the handlebars and down to the asphalt at about 15 miles per hour. I tried to brace myself with my hands, but they quickly gave way. I was lucky my head didn’t hit the ground, or it would have been much worse. The only thing that DID make first, solid contact with that asphalt was my right shoulder. I rolled around a little bit, felt a little sick, but got back up, found my flip flop about 20 feet away, then got back on the scooter and made my way home. The pain really didn’t hit me until I got home. Everyone was mostly asleep, so I slipped into bed, mumbling to my wife about how I was fine when she asked how the night went. I spent the rest of the night in agony as I tried to get in a position to sleep in that wouldn’t hurt my shoulder.

When I figured out how to get out of bed the next morning, the pain was excruciating. Alanna immediately noticed something looked off about my shoulder, even with a shirt on. When she made me take off the shirt, well… a picture tells the story…

Yes, that’s my clavicle sticking up in a way it was never meant to be.

While all that is happening is when my sister called to let me know about my Dad. I needed to come home to the States, to see him before he passed. And here I was with some kind of nasty injury. I freaked out a little. Alanna freaked out a little. She immediately sent me to the hospital. Ah yes, the Chinese hospital experience again. Same hospital as before. I met with the same English-speaking nurse on the VIP floor and she took me to get X-Rays. The X-ray tech used an app on his phone to move the machine all around me, so that was kind of cool. Once the pictures were taken, the nurse took me to see a doctor who would look at my results. He didn’t speak English, but as soon as he touched my shoulder and felt the bone sticking up, he made the universal “Oooohhhhhh……” sound that lets everyone know, in any language, that there is something definitely wrong. From the examination of my shoulder and the x-ray scan, the doctor concluded I had grade 3 separation of my AC joint – which means that all the tendons holding my clavicle in place were torn completely apart and nothing was holding that bone down anymore.

The doctor recommended immediate surgery. His plan was to admit me to the hospital right then and there, stay through the weekend and then have surgery early that next week. I asked some questions, such as “So how does this surgery work? Do you put me to sleep? What is the recovery time?” You know, all standard questions. To my shock, the doctor said they he would NOT put me to sleep. He would just numb my shoulder, then cut open my shoulder, put some pins in my bones and pull everything back in place… all while I’m awake. Like, my right ear is right there, listening to whatever he would do to my shoulder.

I called my wife, and had her talk to the nurse. My father’s situation was explained to the medical staff and how having surgery right now wasn’t going to be in the cards for me. I asked them if I was ok to fly home. They said no, I shouldn’t fly. They weren’t too worried about further injury, just me being in pain. I told them that’s what I had to do though. I mean, come on. It’s my Dad. My hero. They got me a very flimsy sling and put it on my arm to keep it slightly immobilized. It still hurt like hell, but it was the best they could do I suppose. They also gave me some kind of pain meds – that did absolutely nothing. It made no dent in the pain whatsoever. So, I was sent home against medical advice. This was actually on Halloween. My lovely wife, who was already slammed busy at her work with Halloween festivities, was also slammed busy making my travel plans with my sister. Even the folks at my work were helping look up prices, figure out the best routes, out of the kindness of their hearts. It would be just me, with the injury. I had to leave my wife and kids in China. We were able to get me on a flight early the next morning, but that was the only good thing about the trip. Flying was horrible. The China to the States flight, no matter which way you go, will always be about 13 to 15 hours… straight. That’s just from the major flight hub of China to a major hub in the U.S. That doesn’t count the connecting flights and layovers. The average travel time for me is about 24 hours of flying and layovers. And I had a separated shoulder. And my seat didn’t even recline on the 14-hour flight. My shoulder throbbed the entire way. There was no chance to sleep. An abundant amount of turbulence on the long flight only made matters worse.

My brother-in-law picked up my battered self at the airport and drove me an hour to see my father, but first dropped me off at the ER to have the U.S. Docs take a look at my injury. They came to mostly the same conclusion as the doctors in China – a separated shoulder that would require surgery. The only difference in their diagnosis was an upgrade in the severity of the injury. It was a grade 5 AC separation, not grade 3. Grade 5 is the most severe I guess. Anyway, they referred me to an Orthopedic Surgeon as soon as he could see me, which would be early the following week.

I saw my father for the first time the next morning. While he wasn’t able to open his eyes or really even speak, I am confident he knew I was there. He perked up just a bit when I spoke to him and that did give me some comfort. I spent that day and night in hospice with my Dad. His breathing only got more labored and it seemed like it was just getting harder and harder for him. The ladies there told me he wasn’t in any pain. My sister came back the next morning and after checking on my Dad, the doctor gave us the news. He had about 48 hours left. This shocked us. You just assume you have more time. You assume that it will drag on longer. But that’s all there was to it. The doctor was very nice, told us what to expect, but nothing quite prepares you for watching someone you love die. I have been very lucky in my life, and have been spared going through that, until now. My father continued to fade through the next day, and the next morning, the doctor was sure that my father would pass sometime soon. She was right. My father passed away later that day. I sat there, right beside him, and held his hand as he took his last breath. It haunted me. It haunts me. The only comforts I have is that he was in no pain and I got to see him before he died.