Yesterday, something small happened that gave me a surprisingly warm feeling.
Someone bought me a coffee through Buy Me a Coffee.
That someone was my brother, Nicholas, in Vancouver.
Now, I know what you may be thinking: It is only a coffee.
Yes, it is.
But to me, it is also much more than a coffee.
When I started the Buy Me a Coffee button on Grandpa Journey, I never expected it to become an important source of income. In fact, money has never been the main reason I write this blog.
I write because I enjoy sharing my experiences.
I write about growing up after the war, my school days, my working years, Canada, family, retirement, getting older, learning AI, and all those little moments that make up a life.
Somebody reading my stories and deciding to buy me a coffee tells me something simple:
“Grandpa, I read your story. Keep going.”
That feels good.
And when that coffee comes from my own brother in Vancouver, it feels especially meaningful.
We may live far apart, but somehow a little coffee travelled across Canada and landed right here in Grandpa Journey. ☕🇨🇦
It reminded me again why I like the idea of Buy Me a Coffee.
The money is not essential to me.
The gesture is.
It is a little thumbs-up.
A little encouragement.
A little sign that someone appreciates the time and heart I put into these stories.
And I want to say something to everyone who has supported Grandpa Journey—whether by buying a coffee, reading a story, leaving a comment, sharing a post, or simply coming back to read another one:
Thank you.
You are helping me keep this little corner of the internet alive.
At 80+, I don't know how many more chapters I will write. But as long as I have stories to tell and someone willing to listen, I will keep writing.
After my recent eye surgery, I found myself with more time to think.
When you are temporarily away from the computer, you have fewer things to do and more time to think about the things that really matter.
And I asked myself a simple question:
Why am I still working so hard on Grandpa Journey at 80?
The answer surprised me.
I have gradually come to realize that I treat my blog almost like my primary job.
Not because I need another job.
And certainly not because I am trying to become rich.
I have enough to take care of the basic necessities of life. Of course, money is still important. We all need enough money for a safe and comfortable life.
But at this stage of my life, money is no longer the ultimate goal.
My priorities are much simpler:
Health. Safety. Happiness. And the wellbeing of my children and grandchildren.
So why keep writing?
Because I have lived through quite a lot.
I grew up in post-war Hong Kong. I went to La Salle College. I worked through different companies and different stages of life. I came to Canada, started over, experienced successes and disappointments, raised a family, lost someone very dear to me, retired, and then discovered that retirement did not mean I had to stop learning.
There are many stories in my head.
Some are important. Some are funny. Some are painful. Some may be useful to somebody else.
I don't want them to disappear with me.
That is one reason I started writing.
There is also an old Chinese idea that has been in my mind for many years:
積德 — jak tak.
It is often understood as accumulating virtue through good deeds.
I don't claim to be a particularly virtuous person. I have made plenty of mistakes in my life.
But I do believe that if something I write can help a family member, a friend, another senior, or perhaps even someone from the next generation, then that is something worthwhile.
That is what I hope Grandpa Journey can become.
What about money?
I have Buy Me a Coffee. I have advertising space. Occasionally, someone may decide to support what I am doing.
I appreciate it.
But I have reached a point where I see the money differently.
Money is a symbol of acceptance, not a necessity for my purpose.
If somebody gives me a dollar, five dollars, or buys an advertising space, I don't look at it simply as income.
I see it as someone saying:
“Grandpa, I appreciate what you are doing.”
And honestly, even a big thumbs-up can mean a lot to me.
So I am not going to measure the success of Grandpa Journey by how much money it makes.
I will measure it by whether the stories are worth reading, whether they preserve something from my generation, and whether they leave something useful behind.
At 80, perhaps that is a better definition of success.
I want to keep enough money to live. Enough health to enjoy life. Enough happiness to appreciate it. And enough time to leave something behind.
That is what really drives Grandpa Journey.
And if, somewhere along the way, one of my grandchildren—or someone I have never met—reads one of my stories and thinks, “That was worth reading,” then Grandpa will consider the journey worthwhile.
This is one of Grandpa's earlier stories, revisited while Grandpa takes a short break.
This morning, Julie and I made our usual stop at Hillcrest Mall. While she enjoyed her walk, I sat with a warm cup of coffee, savoring the quiet and watching the world go by. There’s something almost magical about observing life in motion—the young, energetic, and the older folks moving forward at their own pace.
Seniors, like me, are a common sight on weekdays. Some walk alone, lost in thought or counting steps on their watches. Others stroll in pairs or small groups, chatting and laughing. Everyone moves at their own rhythm, but all share the same goal: keep moving forward. On weekends, the mall transforms. Families arrive, children run and squeal with excitement, and the energy level rises dramatically. The same space, two very different rhythms of life.
Many stores here are quiet, low on traffic, and struggling to compete with online shopping, e.g., Hudson Bay permanently closed down already and Gap not opened and display windows painted in black. But some businesses thrive because they offer something unique. One standout is Boogles Playhouse, an indoor play area for toddlers and young parents. While the children play, parents relax nearby, chatting and watching. It’s a perfect example of smart positioning—providing an experience that can’t be replicated online.
The food court is another lively corner. Seniors dominate the scene during weekdays, sipping coffee or enjoying a light snack. They spend relatively little, but their presence adds life to the mall. On weekends, families fill the tables, ordering meals, snacks, and more, creating pockets of energy and business in a quiet retail landscape.
Sitting there, I realized that the mall is more than just shops. It’s a community space, a stage where life unfolds in different ways. Young or old, solo or in company, everyone contributes to the rhythm. Observing it all—walking, sipping coffee, chatting with Julie, and noticing the niches that thrive—reminds me of a simple truth: life is about continuing forward, no matter the pace or stage.
Sometimes, a quiet morning with coffee, a few thousand steps, and the simple act of watching the world pass by can teach more than a day spent rushing. And in retirement, moments like these are treasures.
This blog post was captured in simple notes on my cellphone—just fragments of memory and reflection. I then used AI to help me expand those thoughts into a fuller narrative.
If you are curious about how I use AI to document my daily stories and observations, I share more of this journey on my AI learning blog: ai123.ca.
For quite some time, I have not taken my morning walk along the residential streets of my neighborhood.
Instead, I have become a mall walker.
Markville Mall, Hillcrest Mall and other shopping centres have become my regular walking places. They are convenient, comfortable and, on rainy or very hot days, sometimes much more practical than walking outdoors.
But there is something different about walking on a neighbourhood street.
Recently, I found myself walking along Cartier Crescent in Richmond Hill, and I suddenly realized how long it had been since I had really looked at my own neighbourhood.
It felt almost like meeting an old friend again.
Cartier Crescent is not a tourist attraction. There are no spectacular buildings or famous landmarks. It is simply a quiet residential street, lined with houses, sidewalks and mature trees.
And perhaps that is exactly what makes it special.
A different kind of walk
When I walk in a shopping mall, there are always things competing for my attention—stores, advertisements, people, escalators and displays.
A neighbourhood walk is different.
There is nothing I need to buy.
There is nowhere I need to go.
I can simply walk.
I notice the houses, the gardens, the flowers in front yards and the trees stretching over the sidewalks. Sometimes I notice a car leaving a driveway or someone walking a dog. Sometimes there is almost nobody around.
It is quiet.
And quiet is something I appreciate more as I get older.
Waiting for autumn
I particularly enjoy this neighbourhood when autumn arrives.
Richmond Hill has no shortage of beautiful fall colours. The City itself highlights many local places where maple and other mature trees turn brilliant shades of red, orange and yellow in the fall.
But I don't always need to go to a park to enjoy autumn.
Sometimes I only have to walk down my own street.
The trees along the sidewalks gradually change colour. Green leaves become yellow, orange and red. Some fall onto the pavement, while others remain hanging above the houses.
For a few weeks, an ordinary residential street can become a little wonderland.
I walk slowly, look around and sometimes stop to take a photograph.
At my age, I have learned that there is no need to rush through a beautiful moment.
From mall walking back to street walking
I don't think I will give up my mall walks.
There are good reasons why I like them. The floor is level, the environment is comfortable, and I don't have to worry about rain, snow or extreme temperatures.
But perhaps I have been relying on them too much.
Walking indoors gives me exercise.
Walking outdoors gives me something else.
It gives me a feeling of being part of the neighbourhood.
I see the seasons changing. I see the houses changing. I see gardens being planted and flowers disappearing. I see trees getting bigger and older.
And, in a small way, I realize that I am changing too.
When I was younger, I probably would have walked down Cartier Crescent without paying much attention to any of this.
Today, I notice the trees.
I notice the flowers.
I notice the quiet.
I notice the passage of time.
An old YouTube video
Interestingly, I made a YouTube video of this neighbourhood walk a long time ago.
At the time, I probably thought I was simply recording some scenery.
Looking at it now, I see it differently.
The video has become a little time capsule.
The street was there then.
I was there then.
And now, years later, I am walking the same neighbourhood again.
That is one of the unexpected pleasures of keeping old photographs, videos and blog posts. They preserve ordinary moments that we don't realize are important until much later.
So I will add that old YouTube video to this post.
It may not be a professionally produced video. It may not have thousands of views.
But it is my neighbourhood, my walk and a little piece of my life.
And for Grandpa Journey, that is enough.
Sometimes the best walks are the ones closest to home
Perhaps this is a small reminder to myself.
I don't always have to drive somewhere interesting.
I don't always need a shopping mall.
I don't need a famous park or scenic destination.
Sometimes I can simply step outside my door and walk along a familiar street.
Cartier Crescent has been there all this time.
I was the one who had stopped looking.
Maybe this autumn, I will slow down a little more, take my camera with me, and rediscover the streets around my home.
After all, there are still plenty of stories waiting to be noticed—even on an ordinary neighbourhood walk.
August brought a big jump in traffic to Grandpa Journey.
According to Google Analytics, the blog recorded 8,906 sessions from August 1–30, compared with 3,716 sessions in July — an increase of almost 140%.
At first glance, that looks impressive. But looking more closely, I have to be candid: the numbers are not as exciting as they first appear.
More than 8,100 sessions landed on the /search page, almost all classified as direct traffic. Engagement was very low, averaging only about nine seconds. This unusual pattern suggests that a significant portion of the traffic may have been automated or otherwise not representative of genuine readers.
The real story is found in the individual posts. My stories about Jack So, old friends, family, ChatGPT and everyday life continued to attract readers. Canadian visitors were particularly encouraging, with much stronger engagement than the overall average.
Google search traffic is still tiny. Blogger statistics showed only a handful of visits from Google during August, although this was a small improvement over the previous month.
So, my honest conclusion for August is simple:
Traffic increased dramatically, but genuine readership has not increased by 140%.
I am not disappointed. Grandpa Journey is not a traffic factory. It is becoming a collection of my memories, friendships and experiences — one story at a time.
I will keep writing, keep collecting my memories, and let the traffic take care of itself.
For Grandpa Journey, the stories matter more than the numbers.
This afternoon, we went to Ying Kee Café for afternoon tea.
We have been there a couple of times before, so it is not a new place for us. We already know what to expect, and that is actually one of the reasons we like going back.
The food is good, the portions are right, and the prices are reasonable. For us, that combination matters.
This time, we ordered two dishes.
One was deep-fried fish with a sandwich. The other was a deep-fried whole chicken leg with French fries.
As you can see from the picture, the portions were generous enough, and everything looked appetizing. We enjoyed both dishes. The fried chicken was crispy on the outside, and the fish and sandwich made a satisfying afternoon meal.
There was really nothing wrong with the food.
But there was one small thing missing.
The coffee or tea with milk.
For me, afternoon tea is not quite complete without a cup of milk tea or coffee. It is not only about eating. It is about sitting down, having a drink, talking a little, and taking your time.
That is where I would give Golden Horse an advantage.
We have also been going to Golden Horse for a long time. They serve us tea with milk, which is exactly what we like. And because we are long-time customers, they sometimes give us something extra—a bowl of soup, for example.
That little bowl of free soup may not be worth very much money, but honestly, that is not the point.
It makes us feel remembered.
I think this is something I have come to appreciate more as I get older.
When you become a regular customer somewhere, you slowly become familiar with the people there. They recognize you. You recognize them. Sometimes there is a little conversation. Sometimes they remember what you like.
It creates a feeling that is difficult to measure with money.
Ying Kee Café gives us good food at a reasonable price, and we will certainly go there again. But if you ask me which place I would choose between Ying Kee and Golden Horse, I would probably still choose Golden Horse.
Not because the food at Ying Kee is bad. It isn't.
It is because the whole experience at Golden Horse feels a little more personal to us.
At our age, perhaps these little things become more important.
A good meal is wonderful.
A reasonable price is appreciated.
But being recognized and treated like a familiar customer?
That is something special.
Sometimes, the best part of afternoon tea isn't what's on the plate.
Some birthdays are big celebrations. Others are simply good evenings spent with people who have been part of your life for a long time.
Julie’s birthday this year was one of those evenings.
On August 22, we went to Sam Woo Restaurant for dinner with some of our longtime friends and classmates. We know the restaurant owner, but we still decided to book a table for nine in advance. I think that was a wise decision because when we arrived, the restaurant was already full house.
It was a lively evening. People were talking, laughing, eating, and enjoying themselves. There was a nice energy in the restaurant, and our table of nine quickly became its own little world.
Then the food started coming.
We had roasted duck琵琶鸭 , chicken with vegetables汤浸鸡配时蔬 , deep-fried crispy tofu 酥炸脆豆腐 , tenderloin beef, stir-fried vegetables腐乳炒菜 with fermented tofu sweet and sour pork, and Chicken soup. And, of course, there was a birthday mango cake waiting for Julie.
The portions were generous, and everything was so tender and tasty that we almost finished everything on the table. For a group of nine, I would say that was a pretty good compliment to the chef!
But honestly, the food was only part of the evening.
What made the dinner special was sitting around the same table with friends and classmates we have known for many years. We talked about old times, shared stories, laughed about things that probably would not be funny to anyone else, and simply enjoyed being together.
There is something special about longtime friends.
You don't have to explain your past to them. They were there. They remember the people, the places, and some of the stories that have become part of your life.
At our age, I think we appreciate these gatherings even more.
Life moves quickly. People get busy. Families grow. Friends move away. Sometimes months or even years pass before everyone can sit around the same table again.
So when nine of us can get together for a birthday dinner, I don't take it for granted.
And then came the birthday cake.
A Panash mango cake, a candle, a birthday song, smiles all around—and Julie celebrating another year surrounded by friends who have known us for a long time.
Looking back at the evening, I realize that the best part wasn't the roasted duck or the beef, delicious as they were.
It was the company.
Good food disappears. The plates get cleared. The restaurant eventually closes.
But the laughter, the conversations, the photographs, and the feeling of being together—that is what we take home.
For Julie, it was a birthday dinner.
For me, it was another little memory to put into Grandpa Journey.
And I am grateful.
Sometimes, a happy life is simply this:
Good friends. Good food. A birthday cake. And nine people around one table.
What more could we ask for?
Finally, a very special thank you to Tony for thoughtfully organizing this delicious and heartwarming birthday dinner for us.
In addition to the wonderful food, we also enjoyed a beautiful and elegant Panash mango birthday cake, which added an extra touch of sweetness and surprise to the evening.
Thank you, Tony, for putting so much thought into the evening and helping make Julie’s birthday such a beautiful and memorable occasion. Friendships like this are truly worth cherishing. 🎂❤️
This morning, I went into our backyard and took some pictures.
As I looked around, I suddenly realized how much our backyard had changed.
The small trees that I remember from about ten years ago are no longer small. They have grown and grown, and some of them are now taller than our house.
Standing there looking at them, I felt that I wasn't simply looking at trees.
I was looking at time.
Ten years ago, they were young trees.
Today, they have become part of the landscape of our home.
One Tree Has a Special Story
There is still one tree that always catches my attention — our big catalpa tree.
The catalpa grew right along the fence line between our house and our neighbour's house.
It has become a very noticeable part of our backyard.
When I look at it today, I sometimes think about how many seasons that tree has witnessed.
Spring.
Summer.
Fall.
Winter.
And, of course, the storms.
The Tornado and the Fence
Looking at the backyard today also reminded me of something that happened in 2022.
We had a tornado, and the strong wind blew our backyard fence away.
It was quite a sight.
A fence that had stood between the two properties was suddenly gone.
After the storm, we hired a company to build a new fence.
Eventually, the new fence was completed, and our backyard looked normal again.
But the trees remained.
And that is what I find interesting.
A fence can be blown away in a storm and rebuilt.
But trees continue to grow.
They quietly record the passing years.
Ten Years in One Picture
This morning's pictures made me think about how quickly time passes.
When we planted or watched those little trees growing years ago, I could never have imagined that one day I would stand in the backyard and see them towering above the house.
As an 80-year-old grandfather, I have learned that sometimes the simplest things can bring back the strongest memories.
A tree can do that.
A fence can do that.
Even an ordinary backyard can do that.
Our backyard is not just a piece of land behind the house.
It is part of our family story.
The trees have grown.
The fence was destroyed and rebuilt.
And we are still here, watching another season go by.
From My Camera to My Old YouTube Video
I also found an old YouTube video that I made about our backyard.
I want to keep that video together with today's photographs because it gives me a chance to look back and compare the past with the present.
Old YouTube video: 👉
The video shows a moment from the past.
Today's photographs show where we are now.
Together, they tell a much better story than either one could tell by itself.
A Backyard Is a Memory Book
Perhaps that is one of the unexpected gifts of getting older.
We begin to notice things that we might not have noticed when we were younger.
A tree is no longer just a tree.
A fence is no longer just a fence.
A backyard is no longer just a backyard.
They become markers of time.
When I look at those tall trees today, I can almost see the little trees they used to be.
And when I look at the new fence, I remember the day in 2022 when the tornado took the old one away.
Life keeps moving.
Trees keep growing.
Fences get rebuilt.
And Grandpa keeps taking pictures and writing down the stories.
That's why I call this Grandpa Journey.
I am not trying to record only the big events of life.
Sometimes, I just want to preserve the little moments that might otherwise disappear.
Today, it was my backyard.
Tomorrow, who knows?
Grandpa's thought of the day:
Trees measure time differently from people. We see years. They simply keep growing.
Photos taken by Grandpa this morning, August 21, 2026.
Yesterday turned out to be one of those simple days that I really enjoyed.
Julie and I went to Markville Mall for lunch with a couple who are friends from Hong Kong.
Nothing particularly extraordinary happened.
And perhaps that's exactly why I enjoyed it.
Sometimes, a good day doesn't need anything spectacular.
Good friends, good food, and a good place to sit down and talk.
That's enough.
Meeting Friends from Hong Kong
We invited our friends to join us for lunch at Auric King Restaurant inside Markville Mall.
It was nice to see them.
When you meet friends who come from the same place as you, there is always something special about the conversation.
There are familiar memories, familiar places, familiar food, and stories that don't need much explanation.
Hong Kong has changed so much over the years, but when you sit down with someone who knows the same places and remembers the same things, the conversation can quickly take you back.
We talked, laughed, ate, and simply enjoyed being together.
At my age, I have come to appreciate these moments more and more.
A Good Venue
Auric King Restaurant was a good choice for our lunch.
Being inside Markville Mall made everything easy.
We could meet there, have lunch, and then spend some time walking around the mall afterward.
I also like the atmosphere of having a meal in a shopping mall.
There is always something happening around you.
People are shopping.
Families are walking by.
Friends are meeting.
Some people are enjoying a coffee.
Others are carrying shopping bags and heading home.
It gives the place a lively feeling.
Good Food Makes Good Conversation Better
Of course, food is part of the experience.
But I've noticed something as I've gotten older.
When I was younger, I probably paid more attention to the food itself.
Now, I think more about who I'm sharing the food with.
A good meal with good company is much more enjoyable than an excellent meal eaten alone.
Yesterday's lunch reminded me of that.
We weren't in a hurry.
We could sit down and talk.
We could enjoy our food.
We could catch up.
And for a couple of hours, there was nothing particularly important that needed to be done.
That is a luxury.
The Joy of Simple Days
I've written quite a few stories about technology, artificial intelligence, blogging and my adventures with AI123.ca.
But Grandpa Journey isn't only about technology.
It is also about life.
My life with Julie.
My family.
My friends.
Our trips to the mall.
Our meals together.
The things I discover.
The things I learn.
And the little moments that I don't want to forget.
Yesterday's lunch belongs in that collection.
It wasn't a big event.
It wasn't a special celebration.
It was simply a good lunch with good friends.
And sometimes, that's exactly what makes a day special.
Another Memory to Keep
When you're young, you often think the important moments are the big ones.
A major trip.
A big celebration.
A significant achievement.
But as the years go by, I've started to see things differently.
Some of my favourite memories are actually very ordinary.
A morning coffee.
A walk through the mall.
A conversation with Julie.
Lunch with friends.
A laugh over something that probably wouldn't seem funny to anyone else.
These moments come and go very quickly.
That's why I like writing them down.
Yesterday, Julie and I had lunch with friends from Hong Kong at Aura Restaurant in Markville Mall.
Earlier, I went to Jun Bei at Markville Mall 2/F with Julie. We brought along our INKAX BS-47 wireless speaker and the two wireless microphones. My plan was simple: visit the Jun Bei electronic store and ask the technician to take a look at the wireless microphones.
After all, we had spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out why the wireless microphones were much quieter than the cable microphone. I had adjusted settings, pressed buttons, changed the microphone volume, and experimented with different numbers on the remote.
But when the technician briefly tested the two wireless microphones, he came to a very simple conclusion.
He told me that the microphones could not properly receive from the speaker.
I was expecting perhaps a long troubleshooting session. Maybe he would adjust something, check another setting, or tell me to try something else.
Instead, something wonderful happened.
Without asking me to go through all the things I had already tried, he brought out another new INKAX kit.
He tested it.
Both wireless microphones worked.
And they worked loud and clear.
I was honestly surprised.
Then came an even bigger surprise: he gave us a new set with the speaker and two wireless microphones.
Wow.
I didn't expect that at all.
Sometimes you go to a store prepared for a little frustration. You think you will have to explain the problem, prove that something isn't working properly, and perhaps go home without a satisfactory solution.
This time, it was completely different.
The technician listened, tested the equipment, found the problem, and solved it.
I walked out of Jun Bei with a brand-new karaoke set and a big smile.
From frustration to joy
I have to admit that yesterday I was a little frustrated with the wireless microphones.
The cable microphone worked beautifully, while the wireless microphones sounded much too low. I kept wondering whether I was missing some setting.
We spent quite a bit of time experimenting.
But now I look back at it and smile.
Maybe the problem wasn't something I was doing wrong after all.
Sometimes the equipment is simply faulty.
And sometimes you meet someone who is willing to help you solve the problem quickly.
That was the joyful surprise today.
Now I'm charging everything
Tonight, the new INKAX BS-47 speaker is charging.
I'm also charging one of the wireless microphones.
Later this evening, I will give the new set a proper test.
I want to connect the speaker, turn on the wireless microphones, play a karaoke video on my laptop, and see how everything performs.
I'm especially curious to hear the wireless microphones after yesterday's experience.
If everything sounds as good as it did in the store, our next karaoke gathering should be a lot of fun.
A small lesson from an 80-year-old grandfather
This little experience reminded me of something.
When technology doesn't work the way we expect, it is easy to assume that we are doing something wrong.
That was certainly what I was thinking yesterday.
But sometimes the problem isn't you.
Sometimes the equipment is the problem.
And sometimes the best solution is simply to ask someone who knows the equipment well.
That's one reason I enjoy writing Grandpa Journey.
My readers get to see not only the big things I experience, but also these small everyday adventures—technology, karaoke, shopping, walking in the mall, blogging, AI, and whatever else happens along the way.
Today, a simple microphone problem turned into a joyful surprise.
And I'm very happy to share that surprise with you.
Now, let me finish charging this new karaoke set.
The real test is coming tonight. 🎤🎶
I have a feeling Grandpa is going to have some fun.
Last night, I tested the new set at home, and the two wireless microphones worked loud and clear.
Today was another one of those days that I want to remember.
We had our BBQ karaoke gathering, and this time everything worked just fine. We set up the wireless speaker, connected the cable microphone, put the karaoke video on the big screen, and soon everybody was ready to sing.
After all the testing and troubleshooting I had done before the party, I finally learned something very simple:
When something works, don't make it more complicated. Just use it! 😄
So we used the cable microphone, and it worked beautifully.
Our friends could sing along while watching the words on the big screen. The music was playing, people were talking and laughing, and the whole backyard seemed to come alive.
And then my Italian friend arrived
I was especially happy to see the Italian friend who came to our previous BBQ karaoke.
Last time, he surprised us by singing Al Di Là. I remember thinking that there was something very special about hearing him sing that Italian song.
Today he came again.
Before he started singing, he asked me where he could buy a wireless karaoke speaker. I took a piece of paper and wrote down the address for him, including the details he needed.
Then, as expected, he joined us for karaoke.
He sang Al Di Là again.
This time he also sang Elvis Presley's I Can't Help Falling in Love with You.
What a combination!
An Italian song followed by an Elvis Presley classic, right in our backyard, with friends sitting around enjoying the afternoon.
I couldn't help thinking how music can bring people together even when we come from different backgrounds.
You don't need to speak the same language perfectly.
Sometimes, you just need a microphone and a song.
And, of course, there was plenty of food
A BBQ wouldn't be a BBQ without food.
We had beef ribs, pork ribs, beef tenderloin, salmon head, mackerel, squid, giant mushrooms, yellow and red bell peppers, water melon, sweet potatoes, corn and a spring-mix salad with avocado.
There was also 0% alcohol beer and plenty of distilled water.
Nobody was going hungry!
But honestly, I think the food was only part of the story.
The real enjoyment was sitting together, eating, talking, singing and laughing.
We were lucky to have beautiful sunlight and a gentle breeze. Nobody seemed to be in a hurry.
For a while, I just sat there and looked around.
The speaker was playing music.
Someone was singing.
People were eating.
Friends were laughing.
The big screen was showing the karaoke lyrics.
And the afternoon breeze was moving through the backyard.
I thought to myself, this is what a good day looks like.
Yesterday I was worrying about the microphone
It is almost funny when I think about it.
Just yesterday, I was trying to figure out why the wireless microphone was quieter than the cable microphone. I was pressing buttons, checking the settings, looking at numbers on the remote and trying to understand what everything meant.
I even watched the microphone volume change from one setting to another.
But today?
I simply plugged in the cable microphone.
It worked.
Problem solved.
Sometimes technology teaches us a lesson: the simplest solution is often the best one.
Another memory for Grandpa Journey
As I get older, I find myself appreciating these ordinary moments more and more.
A BBQ may seem like just another afternoon.
Karaoke may seem like just singing some songs.
A piece of paper with an address written on it may seem like nothing important.
But when I put all these little things together, they become a memory.
My Italian friend singing Al Di Là again.
Elvis Presley singing through the speakers.
Friends gathered around the BBQ.
The smell of ribs and grilled food.
The sunlight.
The breeze.
The laughter.
And an 80-year-old grandfather standing there, still learning how to make technology work—and occasionally discovering that a cable microphone is all he really needs. 😂
Tonight, I am tired, but it is the good kind of tired.
It was a fun day.
And once again, I am reminded that the best part of technology isn't the technology itself.
