Leaflet No. 9 - James Ricks
This week’s leaflet tea tastes like … udon, blue jeans, altar-blessed fruit, and Popo's signature sprouts
Hello, everyone.
Tea Leaf Tech is a process in which I brew a cup of the Beobab.tree’s blend (its bark, leaves, its fruit, and a dapple of honey—of course!), which is a way to introduce settling and warmth into the day’s spiral of events. During this time of sipping and slowness, ideas and images collect at the bottom of the cup. The readings of the tea leaves laid to rest on ceramic glaze will be the basis of Wednesday’s leaflets. From here, I invite you to sit with your own cuppa and peruse what sensations this week’s tea blend has to offer.
At the end of each month, I invite a guest who will have their fill of the blend and transcribe a leaflet, featured only on Beobab.Tree. This is our first-ever guest-transcribed leaflet —here is James Ricks!
James Ricks (he/him) and I met while in college. He’s a great cook and photographer (meaning he’s good at soft conversation, making the subject feel beloved), and he has his own butter churner. His homemade horchata never misses—nor his soy sauce egg (gooey beyond comparison).
We both were a part of our university’s Writing Center consultants on Sunday evenings from 6-8pm, which became weekly sessions to banter with our other peer tutors, conduct tarot readings, and commiserate. He became a dear person to me as the group of people I spent time with evolved from my junior to senior year; we both were new presences to the same existing friend group (#Team Nav). Navigating being newbies together was simply…nice.
I’ll forever admire how generous he is with food, laughter, and time. One of my favorite memories together is driving in his convertible, roof down, singing anything. Another is eating chapagetti and watching Akira (1988). I know for a fact he loves listening to Japanese pop, composing brilliant photos, working on his Ford Broncos, and wearing white tees, blue jeans, with perfectly-weathered work boots (Very, very much like the King of the Hill men you’ll see shortly below).
Enjoying:
Your mom’s Cantopop. Good stuff.
My dad used to watch this with me when I was small.
🌺Coming around on hand-me-downs
Following in the footsteps of those who came before me.
🌺Being content with now, and with doing things slowly
Not always successful—It’s always instead the intention.
Here is some sweetness:
Inspired by Sally Wen Mao’s Ode to Emptiness
After fighting cancer for the better part of six months, my grandma, Anh, passed away last week, surrounded by family.
My aunts say it’s bad luck to celebrate the Lunar New Year on the heels of a death in the family—that doing so can be misconstrued as celebrating death itself—but in the wake of mourning Popo, it’s natural to hold onto moments and memories that leave me grateful for the time I spent with her and the family that came together to support her and each other these last few months.
Photos of my Mom’s family in the 90s
Walking with Popo: A video short here
It was my grandma’s dream to be a Chinese Opera Star, so last year, my sister and I gave her a makeover and photoshoot in costume. I have lots of fond memories of her singing along to her cassette tapes over the years.
Images in the tree bark:
In the week that’s followed, we’ve begun cleaning out the small Bay Area apartment where she spent the better part of the last 30 years. In many ways, it’s a more final farewell than the funeral itself, unraveling the years of herself sewn into the figurines and furniture that adorn the apartment where my mom and siblings grew up—where I began many sleepy July mornings with a bowl of udon.
What to save? What to part with? It’s comforting to think I can keep some part of her with me—in a bowl, pot or spoon—that we can share at least one more bowl of udon that way.
My Popo was a gatherer and an artisan—concocting culinary masterpieces from unassuming sprigs, sprouts and snippets. What’s more, she fashioned a family with whom I can continue to celebrate the incredible person she was: shepherding them out of a war and across an ocean.
Many thanks to Izzy and the Beobab tree for lending me a leaflet—it’s been such a nice reminder to stop and reflect for a while. I’ve been considering my family a lot recently and how we memorialize and remember folks as they pass.
Collecting those thoughts and photos was a comforting exercise. I’ve always been drawn to the idea of planting one’s ashes beneath a tree; I hope this space on the Beobab tree, in a way, can do the same for Popo and contribute to a space of comfort and reflection for all those passing by.
Sincerely,
James
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