Continued from previous post
15-month-old Ethan Liao and his mother, Judy Liao, 28, background, are looking forward to celebrating the Lunar New Year. Liao said she follows the Chinese tradition of putting money in a red envelope and giving it to relatives for good luck in the new year. (Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Judy Liao, a cashier at Chengdu Taste restaurant in Alhambra, said she believes that $20 is the average. That’s what she has designated for young relatives or the children of her friends. Netting such money usually ends with marriage, when those who receive transition into those who give.
For her own kids, each will open a gleaming envelope to find $100. A mere $50 for her son or her daughter “is not very enough. Maybe he thinks toys will be better,” she said, cradling 15-month-old Ethan. But, she added: “I must save. This is tradition. I do not skip.”
In fact, after toiling for months, she has set aside $3,000 for the Lunar New Year, intending to honor both her mother and mother-in-law with $500. Liao and others stressed that presenting a “correct” sum to the matriarchs and patriarchs of the family is a top priority. Once in a while, they even hand over the dollars early in case grandmas and grandpas are short of cash and need to re-gift it.
Born in Hunan, China, Liao said if she were celebrating at home, she would choose to dole out something like 168 Chinese yuan, equal to just over $24, since it contains auspicious numbers.
Jay Yang said he would “make a big deal if I were back in Taiwan.” To the fortysomething hairstylist from West Hollywood, “this holiday is not as loud or as visible here in the U.S. The atmosphere isn’t the same, but I can appreciate that people try.
“What’s important is it’s about love for one another. Even my mother still gives me a little money to bring good luck.”
That cultural concept of good luck has compelled mainstream brands to try to cash in on the action, with Nike recently premiering its first-ever Lunar New Year ad. It shows a girl who’s been told by her mother not to take “hongbao,” much to the dismay of a crafty aunt who conspires to outsmart her. As the child ages, trying to deny the dollars turns into an annual showdown against her elder.
Greeting this holiday – on the heels of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s – then having to head into Valentine’s Day means that consumers never stop spending, some say.
That’s why Eric Chang, a photographer from Glendale, is careful to keep to a ritual of saving what’s inside his red envelopes in a separate account stashed in his native country, Taiwan.
Already, he worries about the future when he gets hitched and is required to start giving red envelopes. He envisions opting for the “safety of my finances” over culture. “There’s so much pressure. I think I will just take my kids out to buy some candy.”
In certain families, the politics surrounding the holiday can become so volatile that members stop speaking to each other – sometimes permanently.
About a decade ago, Tony Lee, now in his late 30s, happened to skip observing the holiday, choosing to go camping with college buddies instead. Shocked, his mom accused the Rosemead writer of being disrespectful. His dad angrily asked why he didn’t prepare the envelopes ahead of time “so that your brother and sister and cousins’ kids weren’t left empty-handed.”
“I am the firstborn and my grandfather was very old,” Lee explained as he stocked up on holiday sweets and pears at Tak Shing Hong, a neighborhood market in Monterey Park. “It turned out to be his last celebration. My parents thought I was irresponsible since I can go to Mexico any time of the year – but why at the new year?”
For many months Lee, who is Korean-Chinese American, stopped being invited to family reunions. But this weekend he fully plans “to be present” to “mingle among the generations,” he said. “You don’t want to be the black sheep. You need to rise to the occasion.”
And then there are rivalries.
Cashier Rachel Yung stands behind boxes of red envelopes used for Lunar New Year celebrations at the Tak Shing Hong Market in Monterey Park.(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Joe Huang has always paled in comparison to his older brother, who’s a doctor. “I’m only an engineer,” the 42-year-old Arcadia resident said wistfully, “not having the big bucks and not the fancy medical school. That’s why I have to spend way more.”
He brings lunch to work during the months of November and December so that when the new year unfolds, he can afford to dole out at least $100 to all the nieces and nephews, including his sibling’s three kids. “I make sure to save the $200 for the ones in college.”
Lisa Dao, 39, of Los Angeles recounted how at first her Caucasian husband was befuddled by the tradition. The two, who met in Houston, annually set aside $1,500 to $2,000. “He didn’t understand why we had to spend so much and why we had to give to so many.”
In her husband’s family, wads of cash were associated with lottery winnings or gambling. For Christmas, relatives drew names and weren’t required to shop for gifts for multiple generations. In Dao’s circle, however, as the oldest of four, the Vietnamese American office manager is expected to set a strong example and follow cultural norms.
“I already disappointed the parents by marrying outside the culture. The least I could do is to shell out the money,” she said.
“The Asians are very strict about doing things for the sake of appearance,” added her husband, Tim Harper. “Save face, save face – that’s what it’s all about. They do their utmost to preserve the reputation, and while I respect many customs, I can’t always be completely supportive.
“To me, it’s a lot of money that can be better kept in a mutual fund or used for home improvements.”
Anh Do
Anh Do is a Metro reporter covering Asian American issues and general assignments. A second-generation journalist, she has worked at the Dallas Morning News, Seattle Times, Orange County Register and Nguoi Viet Daily News, the largest Vietnamese-language newspaper in the U.S.
This has been a rugged CNY with the coronavirus outbreak. Celebrations are being cancelled worldwide, even in places in the U.S. that aren’t affected in anyway yet. Nice to see a cultural news piece that’s unaffected by the virus.
