I brought my Beehive Yourself! hat to the AARC Lunar New Year of the Rabbit celebration. It was a great center piece at my booth.

Every event post Covid seems more impactful, and when a celebration brings together Asian Americans in a town in Texas, well, it just says something about us. It tells the story of immigrants, of refugees, and we don’t have to remind each other of where we came from, because we haven’t forgotten. We rarely delve into the past, and the beginning of each year we focus on the joyful days to come.

I committed to my first and probably last show exhibit of this year at our local Asian American Resource Center. I only discovered this city-run organization last year, and was excited to see the new post Covid programming. The family event was well organized and the attendees were lovely. Many of my friends also showed up in support of the community. The room was filled once the door opened, and I didn’t get a chance to shoot any photos. Here’s a couple from the event photographer:

Here’s a terrible picture of me setting up my booth, with my hubby on the left there. I am wearing the Duchess head piece from my Wo Ai Ni Collection.

This event made me a little home sick for my Los Angeles Chinatown celebrations. I used to be a Chinese folk dancer many moons ago, and Chinese New Year was my busiest time for dance gigs. People from all over greater Los Angeles came to enjoy our parade, carnival, and daily cultural exhibitions. It was as if for one weekend, we opened our doors to the rest of the world.

I walked down this Chinatown plaza a thousand times. It used to be difficult to capture a photo here without someone getting in the way. Tourist bussed in from around the world, locals walking to and from work, and kids like me just hanging around passing time. I didn’t realize until I left for college, just how protected I was here. It was no coincidence when Los Angeles Chinatown started to fade after I moved away. The LA riots hit our community the hardest. When gift shops shuttered with no tourists to patronize them, our beloved restaurants also began to close. Families turned to other neighborhoods and aged parents whose children I grew up with moved away and retired. Only a handful of the original folks I once shared school lunches with remain. It’s slowly getting painted over by large developers building high rises. I hope it doesn’t become obscure and relegated to a couple of token blocks dedicated to our history.

Crowded during a Summer Night’s in LA Chinatown event.

Our calendar of zodiac animals repeat every 12 years. Next year will be my year as well as the element (wood) of my birth. This will be the only year I will be alive to celebrate it. The next time, I will be 120 years old and long gone. Making the best use of my time might be a good plan, especially since I may only have one more 12-year cycle left. This means I should really donate all the clothes I don’t fit and make new ones that do! There’s no time to wait!

But listen, if I don’t look in the mirror, I forget that my hair is grey, and that I have a crooked smile. I still feel like that girl from Chinatown walking down that little plaza.

Dear Diary

2023 Lunar New Year Celebration