 My
grandfather died when I was 7. He was 76. He was my father's father and
the only grandparent I knew, the other three having passed on long before
I was even born. He was a big man, a giant as all men are to a child. I
was afraid of him. One day my parents took me with them for a visit and
I hid behind my mother, refusing to go near the man. This is the
only memory I have of him alive.
------ There's an exotic Asian delicacy that's made from chicken eggs. The egg, which has to be a fertilized one, is allowed to mature, the embryo to develop. Shortly before the process can go into completion and the egg can hatch, the egg is cooked in boiling water. It's not for the squeamish. ------ When I was still a child someone told me that whenever I had a cut and I was bleeding, I shouldn't let the blood "go to waste." I was told that by licking my blood I was putting it back inside my body where it can reunite with its brothers and sisters. This made perfect sense to me then and thus a habit was born. I've learned two things about this since, the obvious being: blood can't reenter your bloodstream orally, and the less obvious but more distressing: not many people appreciate the sight of someone licking blood, even if it was his own. |