Chinese New Year nostalgia

In the last 8 years, I have been home (in Toronto) for Chinese New Year exactly once.

And maybe it's because I'm looking at things from a (safe) distance away, or maybe I'm just getting old, but I miss the raucousness of multi-generation gatherings of Chinese people. 

I miss the elaborate mishmash of things to eat at the potluck dinners (lasagna and fried rice with 'lap cheung' and store-bought barbeque pork and those multi-layer things of jello that were so in vogue up to the late 90s). 

I miss the ritual theatrics of parents fighting for the bill after dinner in some private room at a big Chinese restaurant in Markham or North York. This was usually after the more flamboyant uncles (never aunties), had karaoke-d their hearts out with passionate renditions of "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" or anything by Elvis Presley. 

I even miss reciting the 4 syllable New Year's blessings only to receive a chocolate coin in the red envelope (instead of the five bucks you were hoping for). 

I know. If I were back in Toronto now and found myself in the midst of one of these celebrations, I would very likely be rolling my eyes and mortified that my dad was trying to sing Elvis again. But inside, I would be happy.