I wanted to send an update on writing on my grandmother, as well as other miscellaneous thoughts.
I’ve been on a trip around the States, and I thought about my grandmother. On the way over there the only thing I could play on my computer was the recordings of her talking.
In this particular snippet she sings a song called “Knife” by a composer called Mai Xin (1914 – 1947) . This anti-Japanese song was a hit back in the day.
The first line from the song, which I ask her to sing, translates roughly as “A large knife / Strike / The heads of the Japanese devils. / Armed brothers / Get ready! / It’s time for resistance against the Japanese!”
What I like about this recording, from 2015, aside from me egging her on to sing the revolutionary-era song even though she says she can’t remember the words, are the sounds of the house that I grew up in. The State-propaganda news playing on television in the background, and someone — either the help or my aunt-in-law, chopping and dicing onions or garlic in the kitchen.
These sounds are precious because I know that all those times when she and I would sit together, when other things were going on in the background, will be some of the best memories I have with her.