my first memory of America probably would be oatmeal. I was pissed that we couldn't eat fish and fermented soy beans for breakfast anymore. But, my second memory would definitely be July 4th, i.e. independence day.
It really didn't make much sense to me at the time, but now since I've lived here for so long, my eyes have opened, literally and figuratively speaking.
the parades was so strange. our dad would make my brother and I stay up till like 3 in da mornin to go save a spot in front of farrer middle school on center street. by the time the parade started, we would be too tired to even watch it.
in the later years, my dad would host his infamous July 4th bbq in our backyard. the ironic thing was, there were usually no Americans there to celebrate America day. just the good ole asians talking about their kids being on the honor roll.
and then for the finalle, the fireworks.
America, fuck yeah.
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