Death, dancing, tennis, french fries

One of our neighbors -- a 39-year-old man -- died this past week. He had a real problem with alcohol and would scream and shout at his mother.  When he was sober, which was seldom, he was an OK guy. Not cool, but OK. He died of lung failure, or so we were told. His death set off three days of singing, chanting, karaoke-like tributes, and music. A typical funeral here. All of this was very loud, of course, and disrupted our sleep, especially Joanna's. Some of the music was awesome, a melancholy type of jazz that was very listenable. I want the album. But most of the music sucked, a twangy, whiny, cacophony of throaty drivel. The issue for me was the lateness. There were tables set up in the street pretty much in front of our house and, of course, people got drunk. Consequently, there were fights. Now that's how you pay tribute to a man who spent much of his life drunk.
My tennis saga continued a couple of weeks ago when two more guys walked slowly across my court while Tai was kicking my ass in a match. I got so angry I cursed out the a-holes and walked off. They responded like the real men they were and mimicked me. I told them "your mother sucks socks that smell."  Tai and I have moved to another tennis complex where he has resumed kicking my ass (2-6 on Friday). At the new court, a young Vietnamese guy playing on the court next to us saw me and said: "Hey, OLD man." I responded: "Hey, LITTLE man." We've been fine ever since.
I gave up on the walk now that I am back on the court. The heat and Bien Hoa's dirty air would not let the skin rash on my face heal. Too bad, because I really enjoy walking. I look forward to getting back to Yellow Springs to resume my walks in Glen Helen -- with Joanna and Phuong.
Joanna is a walking machine these days -- she started walking for real at 11 months, 1 week old. Now, she balks at the stroller and is more than happy to hold your hand as long as she's walking. She reminds me so much of my daughter Jessica, who was one of the all-time great young walkers of her generation. Joanna also likes dancing, which I think is cool for an 11-month old. She'll stand and shake it to the Beatles and Elvis and If You're Happy And You Know It. This reminds me of my youngest son Alec, who was one of the all-time great young dancers of his generation.
I found a place that makes great sweet potato french fries with cheese. Not great for my gall bladderless body, but too tasty to ignore. The fry place is next to Banh Mi Kebab, which makes excellent pork sandwiches on a triangular, toasted, pita-type bread. Awesome.
Our family has the flu. Phuong can't breathe, Joanna has a runny nose and sneezes, and I've got all of the above and then some. Old Man.