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As a child， I skinned my knees countless times in sandy playgrounds and on concrete sidewalks， as I ran around chasing my brother within the 1）void decks of our Ghim Moh estate. I remember， as a 6-year old， pleading and whining for 20 cents to buy the chicken-flavoured Kaka snacks from the 2）mamak stall downstairs， just so I could get that little surprise toy hidden within.
I have fond memories of following my mother to the 3）wet market in Ghim Moh estate， walking around the maze of stalls， trying not to slip and fall in my slippers and inadvertently getting my toes wet from the water that drained off from the fish counters and vegetable stalls to the mosaic floor， listening to her bargain in 4）Teochew to the vegetable seller who in the next minute would start talking to another customer in Malay.
I remember too， a long-gone time， when 5）hawkers at the wet market used to sell live chickens， kept in metal cages， and how as a child， I often wondered if they were cooking those same chickens in the huge， metal vats that stood next to the chicken cages.
So when I heard the news that the Ghim Moh hawker centre and market is going to undergo some major renovations in the later part of 2014 and most possibly lose the facade that it had for the past 30 years， my heart starts to mourn the approaching loss of one of the last stomping grounds of my childhood.
For many Singaporeans living in fastchanging Singapore， many of the places we knew and loved as children or young adults have all but disappeared. I suppose that is the price we have to pay for living in a land-scarce country where constant urban redevelopment is the norm.
The book and stationery store in Ghim Moh that my brother James and I used to frequent as kids， closed 4 years ago after over 30 years in business. I used to relish the fact that it had changed little over the course of three decades， the shelves still stocking the same types of notebooks and 6）jotter books that I had bought as a 7 year old kid， the same little 7）trinkets being sold behind the cash register. It was our childhood landmark and it had allowed me to literally trace my childhood footsteps on its same worn concrete floors. Now all that stands in its stead is a beauty/spa shop.
Yes， in Singapore we have pictures in museums and books reminding us of our local heritage. Many of our favourite communal places such as the old National Library， the Singapore National Theatre， the Van Kleef Aquarium， or even the old playgrounds of the past can only be read about nowadays in books or on signposts 8）commemorating where they used to stand. We are physical beings. We make sense of our world and our relationship to our world through our senses. Sometimes， it’s not enough to just read about it. We have to feel it， smell it， touch it， collide with it so as to form our own memories of it， our own stories， and in turn share those experiences and stories with others in the same tangible fashion.
I am thankful for the little opportunities that I have to share some of my childhood memories with my daughter Claire. Just a couple of months ago， when I made a trip back to Singapore with Claire， we wandered over to the aquarium stall in the wet market section of Ghim Moh Market.
The owner still looks as youthful as I remembered him from 30 years back. I was overjoyed to have the chance to bring Claire to the stall and she， like myself so many years ago， was fascinated by the flicker of gold and silver fish swimming around the many neatly stacked aquariums. She too， like I did many years ago， stared with fascination at the spool of wiggly worms slowly trembling and unwinding orange brown threads and the 9）terrapins climbing to constantly one-up each other on their little plastic 10）Everest in their small 11）smudgy tank.
About the same time， I noticed that a big shady tree just outside of the Ghim Moh market had been removed and in its place stood a skinny 12）scrawny tree that could not shade the little dog that was sitting under it， desperate for some shade in the scorching mid-day sun.
Why， I asked the shopkeeper close-by， had the nice shady tree been removed， only to have this small scrawny tree in its place？
“They replace the trees every few years because they don’t want the roots to crack the concrete，” he replied. A very practical， logical answer. Very …Singaporean in some sense.
It got me thinking…
Are we as a country planting roots only to uproot them later， even before the roots have had time to mature？ Yes， perhaps the concrete might crack. Things might get a little messy and unpredictable. But surely， life is beautiful in its natural state. Call it sentiment， call it romance if you will， but I’m convinced that old memories and old buildings and landmarks have their place， their significance in fast-changing Singapore， to a degree that has not yet been fully realized.
There is a new playground now at the place where my brother and I used to play. Gone are the sand pits for building up sand castles and digging for treasure. In its place， are “safety-first” rubber mats. And in the place of those lovable localflavoured dragon structures and watermelon play structures that I used to play in as a child， are 13） pre-fabricated plastic and metal structures that look like 14）carbon copies of the playgrounds I see in Los Angeles. It’s all very sleek， safe and effective， but I miss the grit. I would rather see the sweat of years etched out on a wrinkled face， than a smooth botoxed face 15）devoid of expression and character.
I’m pretty sure I’m not alone.
小时候，我常常在我们锦茂社区的组屋楼下追着哥哥跑，无数次在沙地操场里和人行道的水泥地上摔破膝盖。还记得我六岁时，求着闹着要20美分去我们楼下的嘛嘛档买一种叫“佳佳”的鸡肉味零食，只为了得到里面藏着的惊喜小玩具。
小时候我常跟着妈妈去我们锦茂社区的菜市场，尽是美好回忆——在迷宫般的摊铺里兜来兜去；小心翼翼地避免穿着拖鞋滑倒；鱼摊和蔬菜摊的水滴到了拼花地板上，脚趾头一不小心就被地上的水弄湿了；听着妈妈用潮州话与卖蔬菜的摊主讲价，这位摊主转头就开始用马来语和另一位顾客交谈。
我同样记得，很久之前，菜市场的小贩会出售活鸡，这些活鸡被装在金属笼里，笼子旁边放着一些很大的金属桶。小时候，我经常想他们是不是会用这些桶来煮这些鸡。
有消息传出锦茂小贩中心与市场将会在2014年的下半年面临一次大整改，而这次的整改很可能会让这个三十多年不变的地方面目全非。当我听到这个消息时，我的心开始为这个即将消失的地方感到哀伤，这是我童年时期常去而至今尚存的其中一个地方。
对于许多住在快速变化的新加坡的当地人来说，我们小时候或者年轻时所知道以及喜爱的许多地方都已经消失不见了。我想这是住在一个土地稀缺的国家所要付出的代价，在这里，不断的城市改建实属常事。
四年前，我和哥哥詹姆斯小时候常去的锦茂社区里的一家经营了三十多年的文具书店关门倒闭了。过去我常常对此津津乐道：在过去的三十多年里，这家店几乎一成不变，架子上摆放着的还是我七岁时买过的那几种笔记本和备忘录，收银台后面还是放着同样的小饰品。这个地方是我们童年时代的标志，让我可以真正地在同一块水泥地板上追溯童年时代的足迹。然而现在，文具书店消失了，取而代之的是一家美容院。
没错，新加坡的博物馆里和书上的图片确实可以勾起我们对当地老地方的回忆。许多我们喜爱的公共地方，诸如旧国家图书馆、新加坡国家剧院、范克里夫水族馆，甚至是过去的旧操场，如今也只能从书上或者这些地方的纪念路标上看到了。
我们人类是实体生存着的。我们通过感官理解这个世界以及我们自身和世界的关系。有时候，光靠阅读是不够的。我们得感之、闻之、触之以及与之碰撞，从而形成我们自己的记忆、创造我们自己的故事，然后再以同样切实的方式把这些经历和故事分享给他人。
我很感激自己能有机会向我女儿克莱尔分享我的一些童年回忆。几个月前，我和克莱尔回到了新加坡，我们走到了锦茂市场菜市场区的金鱼档边。
三十年了，档主看起来还是一如我记忆中的那般年轻。对于能够有机会把克莱尔带来这里，我感到欣喜不已。鱼儿在许多整齐叠放的鱼缸里游来游去，而她，正如多年前的我一样，着迷地看着这些金光闪闪、银光闪闪的鱼儿。同样地，她也像我多年前一样，目不转睛地看着线轴上蠕动的虫子，线轴轻轻颤抖，慢慢拉出橙棕色的细线，而在又小又脏的鱼缸里，水龟们则在争先恐后地爬上里面的塑料珠穆朗玛峰。
与此同时，我注意到锦茂市场外面的一棵绿荫大树被挖走了，取而代之的是一棵纤弱的小树。正午的太阳灼热逼人，一只渴望绿荫的小狗正坐在树下，无奈这棵小树却连这么一只小狗也遮不住。
为什么要挖走这么好的一棵绿荫大树，而种上一棵纤弱的小树呢？我向附近的店主问道。
“他们每隔几年就换一次树，因为他们不想让树根拱破水泥地。”他回答道。非常实际，非常合乎常理的回答。在某种意义上，也是非常——新加坡式的回答。
这引起了我的思考……
难道我们是这么一个国家：把树根种下只为了以后再把它们连根拔起？甚至都没有给时间让它们长大？没错，也许水泥地是会裂开。事情可能会变得有点儿混乱、有点儿不可预测。但是毫无疑问，生命的自然状态是无比美丽的。把这称之为感情用事也好，浪漫也罢，我深信这些以前的回忆、老旧的建筑和地标对于日新月异的新加坡来说都有着一定的地位和意义。而在某种程度上，人们还没有充分认识到这一点。
我和哥哥以前经常玩耍的地方建起了一个新的操场。堆城堡和藏宝藏的沙池不见了，取而代之的是“安全第一的”橡皮垫。而我小时候玩过的那些非常可爱且具有当地特色的龙形滑梯和西瓜形滑梯，也被这些预制式的塑料金属滑梯所取代，这些滑梯看起来和我在洛杉矶的操场见过的没什么两样。
这里的一切都很光滑、安全、有效，但是我想念那些粗糙的沙子。我宁可看一张饱受风霜、皱纹满布的脸，也不愿看一张打过肉毒杆菌、细腻光滑、但却没有表情、缺乏个性的脸。
我相当肯定我不是唯一一个这么想的人。
I have fond memories of following my mother to the 3）wet market in Ghim Moh estate， walking around the maze of stalls， trying not to slip and fall in my slippers and inadvertently getting my toes wet from the water that drained off from the fish counters and vegetable stalls to the mosaic floor， listening to her bargain in 4）Teochew to the vegetable seller who in the next minute would start talking to another customer in Malay.
I remember too， a long-gone time， when 5）hawkers at the wet market used to sell live chickens， kept in metal cages， and how as a child， I often wondered if they were cooking those same chickens in the huge， metal vats that stood next to the chicken cages.
So when I heard the news that the Ghim Moh hawker centre and market is going to undergo some major renovations in the later part of 2014 and most possibly lose the facade that it had for the past 30 years， my heart starts to mourn the approaching loss of one of the last stomping grounds of my childhood.
For many Singaporeans living in fastchanging Singapore， many of the places we knew and loved as children or young adults have all but disappeared. I suppose that is the price we have to pay for living in a land-scarce country where constant urban redevelopment is the norm.
The book and stationery store in Ghim Moh that my brother James and I used to frequent as kids， closed 4 years ago after over 30 years in business. I used to relish the fact that it had changed little over the course of three decades， the shelves still stocking the same types of notebooks and 6）jotter books that I had bought as a 7 year old kid， the same little 7）trinkets being sold behind the cash register. It was our childhood landmark and it had allowed me to literally trace my childhood footsteps on its same worn concrete floors. Now all that stands in its stead is a beauty/spa shop.
Yes， in Singapore we have pictures in museums and books reminding us of our local heritage. Many of our favourite communal places such as the old National Library， the Singapore National Theatre， the Van Kleef Aquarium， or even the old playgrounds of the past can only be read about nowadays in books or on signposts 8）commemorating where they used to stand. We are physical beings. We make sense of our world and our relationship to our world through our senses. Sometimes， it’s not enough to just read about it. We have to feel it， smell it， touch it， collide with it so as to form our own memories of it， our own stories， and in turn share those experiences and stories with others in the same tangible fashion.
I am thankful for the little opportunities that I have to share some of my childhood memories with my daughter Claire. Just a couple of months ago， when I made a trip back to Singapore with Claire， we wandered over to the aquarium stall in the wet market section of Ghim Moh Market.
The owner still looks as youthful as I remembered him from 30 years back. I was overjoyed to have the chance to bring Claire to the stall and she， like myself so many years ago， was fascinated by the flicker of gold and silver fish swimming around the many neatly stacked aquariums. She too， like I did many years ago， stared with fascination at the spool of wiggly worms slowly trembling and unwinding orange brown threads and the 9）terrapins climbing to constantly one-up each other on their little plastic 10）Everest in their small 11）smudgy tank.
About the same time， I noticed that a big shady tree just outside of the Ghim Moh market had been removed and in its place stood a skinny 12）scrawny tree that could not shade the little dog that was sitting under it， desperate for some shade in the scorching mid-day sun.
Why， I asked the shopkeeper close-by， had the nice shady tree been removed， only to have this small scrawny tree in its place？
“They replace the trees every few years because they don’t want the roots to crack the concrete，” he replied. A very practical， logical answer. Very …Singaporean in some sense.
It got me thinking…
Are we as a country planting roots only to uproot them later， even before the roots have had time to mature？ Yes， perhaps the concrete might crack. Things might get a little messy and unpredictable. But surely， life is beautiful in its natural state. Call it sentiment， call it romance if you will， but I’m convinced that old memories and old buildings and landmarks have their place， their significance in fast-changing Singapore， to a degree that has not yet been fully realized.
There is a new playground now at the place where my brother and I used to play. Gone are the sand pits for building up sand castles and digging for treasure. In its place， are “safety-first” rubber mats. And in the place of those lovable localflavoured dragon structures and watermelon play structures that I used to play in as a child， are 13） pre-fabricated plastic and metal structures that look like 14）carbon copies of the playgrounds I see in Los Angeles. It’s all very sleek， safe and effective， but I miss the grit. I would rather see the sweat of years etched out on a wrinkled face， than a smooth botoxed face 15）devoid of expression and character.
I’m pretty sure I’m not alone.
小时候，我常常在我们锦茂社区的组屋楼下追着哥哥跑，无数次在沙地操场里和人行道的水泥地上摔破膝盖。还记得我六岁时，求着闹着要20美分去我们楼下的嘛嘛档买一种叫“佳佳”的鸡肉味零食，只为了得到里面藏着的惊喜小玩具。
小时候我常跟着妈妈去我们锦茂社区的菜市场，尽是美好回忆——在迷宫般的摊铺里兜来兜去；小心翼翼地避免穿着拖鞋滑倒；鱼摊和蔬菜摊的水滴到了拼花地板上，脚趾头一不小心就被地上的水弄湿了；听着妈妈用潮州话与卖蔬菜的摊主讲价，这位摊主转头就开始用马来语和另一位顾客交谈。
我同样记得，很久之前，菜市场的小贩会出售活鸡，这些活鸡被装在金属笼里，笼子旁边放着一些很大的金属桶。小时候，我经常想他们是不是会用这些桶来煮这些鸡。
有消息传出锦茂小贩中心与市场将会在2014年的下半年面临一次大整改，而这次的整改很可能会让这个三十多年不变的地方面目全非。当我听到这个消息时，我的心开始为这个即将消失的地方感到哀伤，这是我童年时期常去而至今尚存的其中一个地方。
对于许多住在快速变化的新加坡的当地人来说，我们小时候或者年轻时所知道以及喜爱的许多地方都已经消失不见了。我想这是住在一个土地稀缺的国家所要付出的代价，在这里，不断的城市改建实属常事。
四年前，我和哥哥詹姆斯小时候常去的锦茂社区里的一家经营了三十多年的文具书店关门倒闭了。过去我常常对此津津乐道：在过去的三十多年里，这家店几乎一成不变，架子上摆放着的还是我七岁时买过的那几种笔记本和备忘录，收银台后面还是放着同样的小饰品。这个地方是我们童年时代的标志，让我可以真正地在同一块水泥地板上追溯童年时代的足迹。然而现在，文具书店消失了，取而代之的是一家美容院。
没错，新加坡的博物馆里和书上的图片确实可以勾起我们对当地老地方的回忆。许多我们喜爱的公共地方，诸如旧国家图书馆、新加坡国家剧院、范克里夫水族馆，甚至是过去的旧操场，如今也只能从书上或者这些地方的纪念路标上看到了。
我们人类是实体生存着的。我们通过感官理解这个世界以及我们自身和世界的关系。有时候，光靠阅读是不够的。我们得感之、闻之、触之以及与之碰撞，从而形成我们自己的记忆、创造我们自己的故事，然后再以同样切实的方式把这些经历和故事分享给他人。
我很感激自己能有机会向我女儿克莱尔分享我的一些童年回忆。几个月前，我和克莱尔回到了新加坡，我们走到了锦茂市场菜市场区的金鱼档边。
三十年了，档主看起来还是一如我记忆中的那般年轻。对于能够有机会把克莱尔带来这里，我感到欣喜不已。鱼儿在许多整齐叠放的鱼缸里游来游去，而她，正如多年前的我一样，着迷地看着这些金光闪闪、银光闪闪的鱼儿。同样地，她也像我多年前一样，目不转睛地看着线轴上蠕动的虫子，线轴轻轻颤抖，慢慢拉出橙棕色的细线，而在又小又脏的鱼缸里，水龟们则在争先恐后地爬上里面的塑料珠穆朗玛峰。
与此同时，我注意到锦茂市场外面的一棵绿荫大树被挖走了，取而代之的是一棵纤弱的小树。正午的太阳灼热逼人，一只渴望绿荫的小狗正坐在树下，无奈这棵小树却连这么一只小狗也遮不住。
为什么要挖走这么好的一棵绿荫大树，而种上一棵纤弱的小树呢？我向附近的店主问道。
“他们每隔几年就换一次树，因为他们不想让树根拱破水泥地。”他回答道。非常实际，非常合乎常理的回答。在某种意义上，也是非常——新加坡式的回答。
这引起了我的思考……
难道我们是这么一个国家：把树根种下只为了以后再把它们连根拔起？甚至都没有给时间让它们长大？没错，也许水泥地是会裂开。事情可能会变得有点儿混乱、有点儿不可预测。但是毫无疑问，生命的自然状态是无比美丽的。把这称之为感情用事也好，浪漫也罢，我深信这些以前的回忆、老旧的建筑和地标对于日新月异的新加坡来说都有着一定的地位和意义。而在某种程度上，人们还没有充分认识到这一点。
我和哥哥以前经常玩耍的地方建起了一个新的操场。堆城堡和藏宝藏的沙池不见了，取而代之的是“安全第一的”橡皮垫。而我小时候玩过的那些非常可爱且具有当地特色的龙形滑梯和西瓜形滑梯，也被这些预制式的塑料金属滑梯所取代，这些滑梯看起来和我在洛杉矶的操场见过的没什么两样。
这里的一切都很光滑、安全、有效，但是我想念那些粗糙的沙子。我宁可看一张饱受风霜、皱纹满布的脸，也不愿看一张打过肉毒杆菌、细腻光滑、但却没有表情、缺乏个性的脸。
我相当肯定我不是唯一一个这么想的人。