My father had little education, although he used to work as a shipping clerk when he was younger.
He did not know the English language, but read and wrote simple Chinese.
He lost his speech in the last few years of his life. No one knew why that was so. Maybe it was his dementia.
Anyway, I decided to read him the calendar one day, in Teochew.
After several numbers he suddenly joined in, to everyone's surprise. His favourite numbers were 6 and 9.
He started reading the calendar with us since that day. But he would get tired easily each time we read with him, and could manage maybe 20 numbers the most.
Here is my father, on the wheelchair, after a meal, wearing his cotton gloves which prevented him from tearing his paper-thin skin with his fingernails, reading the calendar. My mother was beside him reading with him, but she is not in my drawing.
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