THE PERFECT HOLE

I have been admiring the tobacco chamber of a new pipe. This pipe is special, I created it. The briar is very old but not well grained, so I gave the outside a textured finish, sort of a stressed sea-rock, in an unnatural colour. The tobacco chamber tapers slightly, due to a crazy theory of mine about heat deflection and absorption.
It smokes like a dream - the inner wall is developing an even carbon layer. Nothing compares to a perfect hole of the right shape and dimension. I do so like a good hole.
But this post is NOT about pipes.

It's about Savage Kitten.


This morning, while I was dressing, she got up, and went into the kitchen grumbling to herself, reappearing a moment later with a large screwdriver. Still grumbling. Still half asleep.


"You know, Hon, most people fix themselves breakfast first thing in the morning, instead of grabbing a screwdriver. What do need it for?"

"It's for my holes!"

"Come again?"

"Holes. Incense. Earth. Holes!"


It turns out that she remembered that there are no censers at the graveyard. So she got the screwdriver, to put aside for this Sunday.

If you are baffled at this point I do not blame you. It's a Chinese thing.

ChingMing is coming up. It's the time of year when Chinese people go to cemeteries, clean the graves, light incense sticks, and burn ghost money. Cantonese-Americans like Savage Kitten usually play fast and loose with the exact date and the precise rituals. This year ChingMing is the day after Easter. But seeing as one of the relatives has gone all Christian, they're doing ChingMing a week early so that it doesn't interfere with the bunny rabbit.

[The clear-bright festival - Ching Ming Jit: 清明節. Two weeks after the Spring Equinox. A traditional celebration and time of ancestor commemoration, observed all over the Chinese world, and also in Vietnam.]


Savage Kitten is sort-of organizing it for the family, gathering together everything that's necessary for their version of ChingMing. Beverages, brushes, and soap. Hell currency. Joss sticks. Something to light the money for the dead, a cookie tin to burn the paper in.
And a screwdriver to poke holes in the ground for the joss sticks. There's probably about a dozen graves. Got to firmly shove the incense into the hard ground.
It helps if you've got the perfect hole.


After they've scrubbed the grave stones, set their various fires, and poured out Remy Martin for the ancestors, they will eat. An array of tasty dumplings, pastries, and filled buns from Chinatown. Surrounded by graves, smoldering hell notes, and incense.
And this year, perfect holes.