Early morning, Mr. Zhao drove me to grandma's home
to attend my cousin's Wedding. The village was in
the county's economic backwater. People there had
an accent and were nicer and more closely
connected. Many guests had arrived one day earlier 
and spent the night in relatives' homes nearby.

This was a historical moment. Looking at the
gorgeous new couple, I couldn't help remembering
the last two generations of the family. Most
survivied the biggest famine in recent Chinese
history only to succumb to metabolical diseases
later. These people who struggled and sacrificed
transfered a great sense of family duty onto us,
their kids and grandkids. Their sufferings,
deserved or otherwise, had become honorable in the
memories of loved ones. It seemed their collective
karma was blessing the place, people, and events.

The ceremony was outsourced to a professional, a
handsome lad in his 30s. He did a good job and the
show went well. I was put on the spot when he called
me up to speak on behalf of the groom's family. I
didn't say much. I could have done better. But maybe
the fact that I was there was good enough. It could
be worse, as Garrison Keilor would say ;-) Last came
the customary big meal in the front yard.

I was happy to have a chance to brief the new
couple about my health experiments and they
decided to say no to refined carbs and limit the
number of meals. We, the big family, have to stop
repeating the painful mistakes.

I met relatives and childhood friends, many I
hadn't seen for years. Among these people and
among tears and laughters, love flowed. An
89-year-old uncle, a former county police chief,
held my hands. His 86-year-old wife was my
grandma's niece and she talked and smiled exactly
like grandma. Most of my playmates had become dads
and moms. Some even had grand children. In their
eyes, I did well in America and achieved something
special. We talked about retirement plans, e.g.,
to come back and farm together. I knew this land
would always be home to me.