Sushi and Ngapi

It is Friday. It is a day that we do not eat meat, but does not us prevent from eating fish. We keep this traditional practice, if only to remember the significance of that Good Friday.

I went to the Ft. Lee Commissary to buy sushi. There is a small stand in the store where a couple of lads made sushi. It is the best, in the take out category, wonderfully fresh and fragrant. Today I happened to notice that one lad was named "Win" and also noticed that they were not Japanese. (Many asian nationalities and even mexicans have taken to wearing Japonaise clothing while making sushi.) I asked him where he was from, and of course it was Burma. What do you know Burmese pretending to be Japanese and making sushi. This to my mother would have been a total outrage, given the depredations of the Japanese during their conquest during WWII. I remember that she did have for a short while have animus toward Japanese friends of ours when we were young. These Japanese friends had their relatives suffer depredations during their internment in the U.S. camps during WWII at the hands of round-eyes. Our friend Byron Sakamoto would tease my mother, by asking for mangoes. My mother as a teenager once gave a defeated and retreating Japanese soldier a mango, or perhaps even threw it at him. I remember she said the soldier, said he could have killed her, but simply walked away.

The Burmese making sushi makes me wonder what the Greater Asia Co-prosperity sphere was all about and certainly the meaning of WWII.

To round out this tale of raw fish, I add ngapi. Ngapi is that wonderful and pungent preserve of fermented fish, enjoyed by few round-eyes. So now the cycle is complete. We love fish from its rawness to its utter putridity. It is good to be Burmese.

Eric Alexander

This is our grandson. He is a scamp.

California Visit 2005

Click on a picture to expand.





This is a kind of visual stream of
consciousness

Various people from various degrees of separation, blood affinity or to whom we owe money

Florence Peckham Memorial

Christmas 2005 DFCN

Happy Merry Christmas, Chanakuh, Kwanzis

Just when you thought it was safe……….

Judging from the dearth of cards we have received this season, it would seem we have been struck from many a Christmas card list after two years of not sending our Newsletter

(Shay says it’s three, but then, he’s always asking me how many kids we have, too). Some of you apparently thought you could quietly slink away unnoticed, but not if we still know where you live! We’re back! And we’re early, because it’s not even Groundhog Day yet.

Well, we all have excuses for not getting things done. We've had some labor-management difficulties that slowed production of this publication. Labor just didn't want to get off her duff and management in his incompetence didn't enforce his decrees. So now we've worked out an agreement of sort to send the special edition for selected invididuals (lucky you): the new, improved Dreaded Compulsory Family Newsletters for 2002 (maybe), 2003, 2004 and 2005.
Shay, insert your two cents here. (My family is of the six-degrees of separation sort, coming close to great people and ideas but not quite achieving it. Others are just a bit closer (they can and will tell you tales.) For example: cousin's husband went to Georgetown with Clinton, kids soccer coach once cooked for Colin Powell, cousin's daughter played body double for teen actress. I often stopped at the rest stop in Maryland where the Beltway Snipers were apprehended, and Wendy occasionally went to the Burger King in Ashland by the Bonanza where they shot one of their victims. Daughter drove golf cart at fund raising event attended by a Senator. There's lot of that in our lives, the coincidences and connections at times becoming a burden.) Okay, that suffices. Back to business:

The last two (or three) years have seen some changes in the Nyunt & Peckham household. We have survived the Beltway snipers, AKA the Grinches that stole the football season, the onset of the Iraq War, another national election, snowy winters and humid summers. Alex, twenty, surprised us a couple of years ago by informing us of his intentions to marry his high school sweetheart. They did indeed marry in the summer of 2004, and we are the scary in-laws of the very pretty Caitlin Nyunt, as well as the proud grandparents of an impish and musical little grandson, Eric Alexander Nyunt. Once again, it appears that the Nyunt boy has chosen a wife with recessive genes, because Eric looks just like his daddy. We look forward to the arrival of his baby sister, Sophia, in the March of 2006, and Caitlin gets another chance to have a child that resembles her. As a four-time loser myself, I say to her, good luck.

Alex trained first at my Army Alma Mater, Fort Benning, then went off to Fort Sam Houston to train as an emergency medical technician, combat medic, and is now training as a licensed practical nurse at Walter Reed Army Hospital up in Washington, D. C.. Caitlin, also twenty keeps very busy with handling her two boys—Alex and Eric. She has been a good sport in taking all of us on. Alex will finish his training in April and then they will find out about their next chapter.

Maggie, age seventeen and a high school senior at St. Gertrude's, plans to escape from Blair Road next fall, when she goes to college. So far, it doesn’t look as though she has any surprises for us, but then again, if we could anticipate them, they wouldn’t be surprises. She was in Virginia in the Model General Assembly for the past several years, where high school students get a chance to legislate, although we think it should be renamed since there were neither models nor generals there. She underwent a life-changing Tricadecathlonomania experience this last spring, after learning of the 24 hour ultra scavenger hunt while visiting friends in Northfield, Minnesota (Northfield’s town motto was almost “It may not be heaven, but at least it’s not Iowa”). She brought Trica to Richmond, and as its head judge, contributed to the 288-item list of find its, know its, make-its, and do-its, to be completed and filmed by the 4- to 5-man teams. but as most of it was written by high school and college boys in Minnesota, New York, and Illinois, it is predictably gross. She recruited her classmate, Jamie, as well as various sketchy college students

from Virginia Commonwealth University to participate. One of her teams accrued the most points nationally (I’m not sure the Northerners have thawed out by April—perhaps the Southern teams should carry a handicap) and it proved a peak experience for many of those involved. Incidentally, one event involved the throwing of a donut at a policeman, and because it was done in the nude (the Trica contestant, not the policeman), it got double points. I don't recommend it. Kids.

Now Maggie and Jamie have plans for a road trip upon graduating this summer. She’s looking for places to stay-- and remember, we have your addresses, except for some of you who thought ahead and gave us post office box numbers.

Julia, age twelve and in seventh grade at St. Benedict's, continues to be pert, even as she grows into young lady. She hasn't been suspended yet this year. She and Maggie have allied themselves as the teenagers of the house. It’s scary. After years of having a captive audience for my musical nursery rhymes and folk songs, I am now being critiqued on my song stylings.

That’s okay. There’s still John Paul for a few more years, and then, what are grandchildren for? Julia plays second fiddle in her youth string orchestra group, but it’s a more advanced string orchestra than she was in last year. She has even made some money, playing her violin for the arts night in Old Town Petersburg, as well as at the Farmers’ Market. She also plays the part of one of Beauty’s vain and selfish sisters in her touring theater group’s production of Beauty and the Beast. We’re hoping that life will not imitate art in this instance. Julia has had her own website on the Internet, and writes copiously. She is developing into a social butterfly at school, and she would have us believe that she is being persecuted by her teachers (for talking too much.) It seems that the zero tolerance for Julia from the principal at Saint Andrew’s has carried over. Maybe its her truculence upon being corrected. Who did that come from?
John Paul, age seven and in first grade, is in school for a full day, except for right now, the middle of December, when he is suffering from strep. He really hates the antibiotic syrup, but later in life, when he encounters the phrase “It’s time to take your medicine,” he will
appreciate its significance. He attended kindergarten at Saint Andrew’s last year, but since our family got kicked out, he is now at Saint Benedict School with Julia. He has a lot of friends, and brings home daily reports on the ongoing conflict among the Ninja Monkey Team, the Ninja Spy Team and the plain Ninja or Boys' Team. He fills the house with drawings, Lego creations, and we read lots of books about mythology, hippos, dragons, and bears. He is learning to read, too. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. They end up getting driver’s licenses and voting, and then where are you?
Algie-the-Dog, age nine, has settled down a bit but we still catch him sneaking out of the yard to chase cats. He has never even caught a chipmunk, but he enjoys thinking that someday he might.

I, Wendy, still age thirty-nine and enjoying it more every year--well, actually, this year I'm a square--am dragging my heels at getting gainfully employed. It’s not the prospect of working that bothers me, it’s the chore of convincing someone to hire me. I sold a few plants at the Farmers’ Market in Petersburg, filled in temporarily for the nurse at Saint Benedict School (no, I’m not trained, but none of the students died there that week), and I spent a lot of time driving the kids to and from school and activities. On a more somber note, I made three trips out to California in the space of a year, to visit my mother, Florence Peckham: after she had a stroke; when she died; and for her memorial service. My mother had been very active up until the stroke, and suffered greatly from being unable to move very much or communicate for the fifteen months that followed. My father and sister, Pam, spent a lot of their days with her at the nursing home. We all miss her very much. It was good to see the relatives at the memorial.

Shay retired in 2003 after may promotions beyond his competence (Shay said that, not me—W). He was the Principal Inspector General (PIG) for the Army Reserve in the Mid-Atlantic states and spent a year in Pittsburgh. One of his units was actually involved in the Abu Garib case. It turns out that those boys and gal, who were a handful as reservists, continued true to form upon deployment. He's still in uniform, teaching JROTC. Now he's considering having his retirement revoked, so that he can go spend a year or two in Iraq or Afghanistan. Apparently, home life is too stressful for him. With three years as a teacher he can vouch for the fact that there is one other sector of American life that is less accountable than the DOD: its education system. Contrary to what John Lennon says, there is no “Instant Karma:” It takes about thirty years.
Shay's mother, Yi Yi Nyunt, of Monterey, California, is in serious health now, and is being cared for by her children. Our prayers are with them.

Our quirky home remodeling has been on hold for a while, and after listening to my description of unfinished jobs, one of our relatives commented that she just hires professionals to do the work for them. It’s an interesting way to go about home improvement projects, and on the surface it seems reasonable enough, but believe me, we’ve tried it, and from our experience those people expect to get paid.

Movies:

The Day After Tomorrow: Scientist starts movie with a Toyata Prius. When everything goes wrong, he's in a Ford SUV. Go figure.

The Passion of the Christ: It was all Greek to me.

The Incredibles: I couldn't believe it.

I Robot: Will Smith was good, as usual. I can't shake his character from Six Degrees of Separation. Film unfairly panned by critics.

Return of the King: Really, really long.

The Saragossa Manuscript: Cult college movie. After hearing me comment that I had finally tracked down an elusive film that I had seen in 1977, my friend, Angie, ordered it for me. Turns out that it is considered an “obscure classic” and has been re-released by Martin Scorsese in memory of Jerry Garcia. It’s a strange movie: Polish, set mostly in eighteenth century Spain, and full of ghosts and gypsies.

Elf: Admit it now, you’ve always wanted to see a miniature Bob Newhart holding a full-size Will Farrell on his lap. Maggie and Julia, in their altruism, gave it to John Paul as a Christmas gift, have memorized it, and quote it liberally. I especially enjoyed the North Pole scenes.

The two recent Harry Potter Movies. The English are so clever riding brooms and all, they don't have any problem with global warming.

Bride and Prejudice, Shakespeare Walla, Monsoon Wedding- East Indian or Indian inspired movies all, and all wonderfully entertaining.

In the News (with plenty of commentary—guess who said what.)

In Missouri, a high school boy was sent home from a school dance for wearing a kilt. He protested, pleading his Scottish heritage. The principal commented that he will indulge religious dress requirements, but not just pleas for heritage. I don’t see where the problem lies. As long as the lad wears boxers or briefs, or if not, at least refrains from performing cartwheels, let him celebrate diversity and wear kilts, be he Scottish, Chinese or Ubangi.
Another high school student was suspended for responding in Spanish to another student during their break between classes. I didn’t realize that speaking Spanish or other foreign languages was illegal anywhere in the United States. Gadzooks, are we turning into France?
Cindy Sheehan, who has suffered a grievous loss, one that I dread, has turned virago (and I know a virago when I see one—never mind why) and made a spectacle of herself by scolding President Bush and performing reenactments of her son’s death in a painful parody of The Trojan Women. She had her chance to form her child's outlook, and did not succeed in convincing him of her views. He grew up and chose military service. Perhaps she is caught in a time warp of the Vietnam War era, and does not realize that we have a volunteer army. All we can do is send her back to her physician to have her hormone replacement therapy meds recalibrated.

Future first Lady Bill Clinton, is convinced that Global Warming is real. It turns out that scientists of multifarious disciplines voted and so it was decided. Science fact, indeed! Decided by democratic vote? I'm no rocket scientist but I thought science was a bit more proof oriented. If global warming bears out over the next century, as some predict, (although the chief climatologist of Virginia and UVA professor and I both demur) I (or my successors) will certainly apologize. Causation, however, will still be hotly debated into the next ice age.

The War in Iraq is likened to Vietnam so many times, that I could almost be convinced, except that my selective memory is intact. I remember what happened, as many of our readers, former 1960's habitues do not. Our withdrawal from Vietnam brought communist adventures and experiments in Cambodia, Laos, Angola, Ethiopia, Somalia, Mozambique, Namibia, Sudan, Afghanistan, Nicaragua, El Salvador and sponsorship of terrorism in the Levant. (and no small number of American campuses.) The proof is that these refugees from these countries are running quicky marts and driving cabs in every major city. We know that they will have successfully assimilated when their children have forgotten their history and say that America is nothing more than an imperialist, racist, heterosexist nation.

Speaking of imperialism, that was once a good thing. Empire brings peace and prosperity. The fall of Rome brought such darkness and despair that this period is called the Dark Ages. Pax Americana: imagine being able to drive to Buenos Aires without the drama of dysentery or dismemberment. Thomas Jefferson, of Louisiana Purchase fame, had such a vision. Call me old fashioned, but I think that democracy is good for everybody, including Iraqis.
Some of you may remember that in my college days I was a Trotskyite Socialist. Or was it a Trotskyist socialite? This was a kinder, gentler, and more ineffectual brand of communism. So gentle in fact that Peter Camejo, our presidential candidate in 1976, went on to become an investment banker and later California Green Party gubernatorial candidate against Arnold.
An early Russian communist said, in response to the accusations of killing millions and prior to being purged himself , “eggs must be broken to make an omelet.” And what an omelet it was. It seems no one, except Castro and our universities, still believe that communism is the way to go. Millions were slaughtered under communism but there are plenty of academian apologists for this omelet. We recommend “The Black Book of Communism:” horrors documented by a group of French ex-communists, if Freddy Krueger no longer sends a chill up your spine.

A couple of notables passed into eternity since our last letter, Ronald Reagan and Pope John Paul II. Some have said they offered the one-two punch to the communists. Mr. Reagan was right to ignore the Nuclear Freeze movement, as Kremlin documents prove Soviet inspiration and support to the movement. If the freeze had been continued, we'd still have Mutually Assured Destruction. JP II was probably the more dangerous, since he incited the masses to think a bit beyond themselves. So much for material determinism.

The “Wal-Mart is the Devil” faction of self-appointed consumer advocates are either advocates of capitalist choice or shills for Target. I know some object to Wal-Mart’s sale of cheap imports which undercut domestic products and some are against it for its non-union employment, but one acquaintance of mine doesn't shop there because doesn't like the customers' appearance. He may have a point. Many, many studies say that good looking people are likely to be perceived as more intelligent and kinder than the unattractive. Hence, the ugly are consigned to lower earnings and may have no choice but to shop at Wal-Mart. Sam Walton was a genius and hit a mother lode of discontent from those rejected by the Galleria. The next time you feel disposed to disparage Wal-Mart, think about how THOSE people would look in your favorite shop? I only shop at Wal-Mart for grapefruit soda, can't find it anywhere else. And then there's the goat cheese. And the jalapenos. And the squid...

Intelligent Design versus Evolution? Certainly, God could use evolution. Life on Earth is so complex and fine tuned, it is difficult to believe that it all happened by fluke. But as for intelligent design, clearly, some of us are more intelligent than others, but I won't mention any specific philosophies or political parties.

I was relieved to hear that the CIA, after years of bungled operations, had the sense to do create some secret prisons. Now that’s blown. John Paul (our youngest) will tell you that the C in CIA stands for secret.

Our nation has established that it is pro-choice on life and death issues. A baby can be aborted up to the last day of gestation. While Scott Peterson retains only a small fan club, Michael Schiavo was cheered on when it came to killing his wife by starvation and thirst (and if dying that way is such a euphoric experience, why don't those Ethiopians and Somalians look happier?) And yet, were not both husbands merely trying to tie up some loose ends when it came to wives who no longer contributed to their well-being? Anyway, that puts me right in line with the mainstream when I say that when it comes to torture, I'm pro-choice. I know that I'm not going to torture anyone. However, I've never been in that position, and I wouldn't want to impose my values on someone trying to get the truth out of some scum associated tp some other scum sucking terrorist who has plans to kill the innocent for his own heavenly rewards. As an inscrutable Oriental, I often think that Americans are too soft when it comes to seeking the truth.

We like everyone else has a blog send us a note on email to get a link. Peace to all and to all a good night