I’m holding a koa wood ukulele, running my fingers over the smooth, golden brown finish. It is one of my most valuable possessions, given to me by my deceased grandfather, Wah Tim.
My Goong Goong was known for his love of music, especially the ukulele. He never seemed to be so happy as when he was strumming an ukulele, singing in a gentle, smooth voice. If there was any gathering of family and friends - birthday parties, potlucks, even dinners at Chinese restaurants - it was a certainty that at some point, Wah Tim’s ukulele would make an appearance. His most frequent song to perform was, “How Much Is That Doggie In the Window.” It always struck me as a strange song choice, and I could never tell if Goong Goong was singing the lyrics in an effort to be childish and goofy, or if he genuinely loved the song. Either way, he sang every line with gusto, inserting dog barks with particular flair.
“How much is that doggie in the window? The one with the waggly tail. Arf, arf, arf! How much is that doggie in the window? I do hope that doggie’s for sale.” The “arfs” were the best part, guaranteeing a laugh from everyone.
From the time each of his grandchildren could hold an ukulele, he taught us simple chords and strums so we could accompany him. I think he secretly dreamed we’d be the Asian version of the Partridge Family.
One year he took lessons in ukulele making, spending hours upon hours crafting one for each of his grandkids. As the eldest, I received the first one. It was beautifully designed, marked by a gold nameplate labeled “Larissa.” When Goong Goong handed it to me, he pointed out that it had not four, but six strings, for “better quality music.”
I haven’t played the ukulele in years, since it has been stored in my parents’ home. The other day, my dad brought it over, saying that it was newly strung and finished, ready to be played again. As I look at the ukulele, I think of Goong Goong’s love of music, and strum the strings gently with my thumb. I think I’ll teach my children the words to “How Much Is That Doggie In the Window” tomorrow.
My Goong Goong was known for his love of music, especially the ukulele. He never seemed to be so happy as when he was strumming an ukulele, singing in a gentle, smooth voice. If there was any gathering of family and friends - birthday parties, potlucks, even dinners at Chinese restaurants - it was a certainty that at some point, Wah Tim’s ukulele would make an appearance. His most frequent song to perform was, “How Much Is That Doggie In the Window.” It always struck me as a strange song choice, and I could never tell if Goong Goong was singing the lyrics in an effort to be childish and goofy, or if he genuinely loved the song. Either way, he sang every line with gusto, inserting dog barks with particular flair.
“How much is that doggie in the window? The one with the waggly tail. Arf, arf, arf! How much is that doggie in the window? I do hope that doggie’s for sale.” The “arfs” were the best part, guaranteeing a laugh from everyone.
From the time each of his grandchildren could hold an ukulele, he taught us simple chords and strums so we could accompany him. I think he secretly dreamed we’d be the Asian version of the Partridge Family.
One year he took lessons in ukulele making, spending hours upon hours crafting one for each of his grandkids. As the eldest, I received the first one. It was beautifully designed, marked by a gold nameplate labeled “Larissa.” When Goong Goong handed it to me, he pointed out that it had not four, but six strings, for “better quality music.”
I haven’t played the ukulele in years, since it has been stored in my parents’ home. The other day, my dad brought it over, saying that it was newly strung and finished, ready to be played again. As I look at the ukulele, I think of Goong Goong’s love of music, and strum the strings gently with my thumb. I think I’ll teach my children the words to “How Much Is That Doggie In the Window” tomorrow.
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