My Father's First Banana When I was young, I complained about something tough and abhorrent in my life, though it couldn’t even be a big deal for others including my father. I don’t remember when I heard the story my father told me, but I remember most of the details of the story explicitly. Once I refresh my memory of it, I can’t help laugh for a certain time. Growing up in a poor family, my father was living in a condition with resource shortage and education backwardness. A few decades ago, people in his hometown made livings with self-sufficiency. They ate what they have cultivated. However, my father’s family never plants banana trees, so he didn’t have one until a warm villager who lived on the back of the mountain gave him a real banana. He told me, emotionally, it was the first time he saw banana and knew what it’s like. Then he, so eagerly and ecstatically, peeled off the whole skin of the banana. It slipped from his hand… “Nobody tell me how to eat it, and I don’t know why it cannot stand on the hand like a pear.” he explained. I become more positive towards the difficulties as I think of the poor banana was “abandoned” by a boy who didn’t know how to eat it. Hahahhh