The Asian reporter. (Portland, Or.) 1991-current, September 04, 2023, Page 6, Image 6

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    OPINION
Page 6 n THE ASIAN REPORTER
September 4, 2023
Volume 33 Number 9
September 4, 2023
ISSN: 1094-9453
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Copyright 2023. Opinions expressed in this newspaper are
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MY TURN
n Wayne Chan
A tall tale told
at Yappy Hour
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went to an amazing Yappy Hour recently.
No, that’s not a typo. I’m not being lazy with
spellcheck. I went to Yappy Hour.
Here in our neighborhood, every two weeks, a
neighbor will volunteer to open up their backyard to
the rest of the neighborhood. The hosts provide
drinks and everyone else brings an
appetizer. It’s been going on for more
than ten years now.
When it first started, as I’ve been
told, it was just neighbors getting
together with their young kids to let
them play together, give the
grownups an opportunity to catch up,
and share in the misery and/or joy of
being parents of young children.
But those children are now all grown up, so we
bring our dogs in place of the kids. Thus the name:
Yappy Hour.
If, for some reason, a host cannot or prefers not to
have dogs attend, then we call it “Yap-Less” Hour.
I’ve lived in six homes in my life since I was a kid.
Until I moved to our current neighborhood, I could
count on one hand the total number of neighbors I
knew or with whom I’ve had any real interaction. In
today’s world, as busy as we all are, I’m guessing I’m
not the only one.
That all changed with Yappy Hour. I know the
majority of my neighbors. Besides Yappy Hour, we
go out to dinner, ski in the winter, and look out for
each other. It’s probably the most pleasant and
supportive “Neighborhood Watch” group one could
ever hope for.
When we first moved to the neighborhood, we
went to our first few Yappy Hours. Not long after, I
had a fairly minor surgery on my left eye. After
arriving back home from the hospital to recover, I
was amazed to find that a few of our neighbors had
arranged to cook meals and deliver them to us so we
wouldn’t have to worry about getting dinner ready
for the kids. It’s a memory I’ll never forget.
We should all be so lucky to have friends like that.
But Yappy Hours aren’t normally about crisis or
drama. It’s usually a time to catch up with friends,
blow off steam, and just have some fun.
Case in point: The Story of Wayne’s Most
Excellent Soup.
At a recent Yappy Hour, one of my neighbors —
one of the most jovial men you’ll ever meet — asked
me a question. I’ll call him Jay.
Jay said, “Wayne, you remember a few years ago
when you and Maya hosted a Yappy Hour? You made
a soup that everyone loved! Do you remember that?”
“Yeah, I remember,” I replied.
Jay followed up with, “What was the name of that
I
soup? I asked Maya and she didn’t remember. I
remember it was some Chinese soup you made, but
it was absolutely out of this world. What was that
soup?”
I knew what Jay was asking about. I know that
soup. I made it. In fact, I’ve made that soup every
time we’ve hosted Yappy Hour at our
house.
The problem is, I didn’t want to
reveal where I found the soup recipe.
Why not, you ask? Well, it’s not
because I made up the soup recipe
myself, or that it’s some huge secret.
It’s because Jay made such a big
deal about this soup that I did not
want it to be a big letdown when I told
him the truth. But, I didn’t think quickly enough,
and I just sort of blurted it out.
“Jay,” I said. “The soup is called Zuppa Toscana.
And I got the recipe from … the Olive Garden.”
“What?!?” Jay exclaimed. “Don’t tell me that,
Wayne — I thought that was a recipe passed down
from your Chinese ancestors or something! Don’t
tell me you got it from the Olive Garden!!!”
I was really sorry I burst Jay’s bubble. After
giving it some thought, I’d like to revise my earlier
answer on the origins of my famous soup. So Jay,
here’s the real story. This is for you.
“The origin story of Wayne’s
proprietary magic elixir soup”
A long, long time ago, while I was walking down a
path towards China’s Yangtze river, I came across
an old woman who was standing beside a large cow,
drinking water from the river. The old woman
looked distraught and I asked her what was wrong.
She told me she had dropped the SIM card from her
iPhone into the river and dug all around and
couldn’t find it. I immediately looked down and saw
the SIM card floating on a leaf, so I picked it up and
handed it to her.
As a way to thank me, she handed me a bottle of
milk as well as an envelope with one bean inside and
said, “Thank you so much for your help. As a way of
thanking you, this is the milk from my cow. This is a
virgin cow (yes, a virgin cow), and the milk has
special properties. The bean in the envelope is from
a mung bean and it’s the last of an ancestral bean
from my family. Grow it in your yard and it will
bring good fortune for the rest of your days.”
So Jay, the Yappy Hour soup I cook is made from
the milk of a virgin cow from the Yangtze river area
and all the mung beans in it come from one single
bean I’ve harvested in my backyard. You’re welcome.
Humor writer Wayne Chan lives in the San Diego area;
cartoonist Wayne Chan is based in the Bay Area.
Opinions expressed in this newspaper are those of the authors and not necessarily those of this publication.