my dad says that when he went to see my uncle last week he's had his hair trimmed by my cousin. it's another one of those child-parent inversion moments that make me feel strange and sad to be away from my parents. when we were little my uncle used to cut a hole in the centre of a sheet of newspaper for you to put your head through and gave home-style haircuts. and he put a soup bowl over people's heads trimmed their fringes along the edge.

when i was younger and in the morning session my dad (who usually teaches the afternoon session) would get up as i was leaving the house and come to the gate with me to say goodbye, but between jc and the start of college i was always at home to wave him off. we'd found a short stretch of road along his route to school which i, leaning over the second floor balcony, could see from our house, so i would wave him off at the gate, and about ten minutes after he has set out, go upstairs and see where he has got to. and he would always stop when he got to about the right place - although he couldn't see me - and wave in the general direction of our house.

i do believe this, nearly all of the time.

this is my country,
this is my flag,
this is my future,
this is my life.
this is my family,
these are my friends,
we are singapore, singaporeans.

we all know which ones in that list are hardest to believe in. but then the most difficult parts of the declaration are pressed between such unshakeable beliefs - country, flag - and such fundamental ties of love - family and friends, that it's hard to demur from the overall sentiment. it's very hard when i'm away - i have closer ties to my family - which, in this sense, is not only the three of us at 54 but includes the people who live at 52, my uncle and aunt and winnie and aaron and sarah and ariel - than quite a few of you - and heaven knows i have only love for you all. and von said, so scathingly, a few weeks ago - you're patriotic. and i could say, yes, i do really believe in the country and the flag. it's one thing to fight civil wars hundreds of years ago - but 1959 was not that very long ago - when i was talking to my dad last weekend, it really was all terribly compelling and truly recent, and yet it holds no interest even for von and darryl, intelligent, agile young people with minds and talents and who have had exactly the same education i did, and yet who don't care about the national languages, who can't even be bothered to follow a link to read raja's obituary.

i'd come home and teach - but i can't believe in blind loyalty either - giving up what you want to do and are good at doing and have the opportunity to do - but yeats must be wrong about choosing between the work and the life - choose? - they're not separable - i can't produce the work because the life is not in order - i'm too far from home - but life without the passion for words is so terrible all the love couldn't stay you. it's