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.

小時候，我常常在我們錦茂社區(qū)的組屋樓下追著哥哥跑，無數(shù)次在沙地操場里和人行道的水泥地上摔破膝蓋。還記得我六歲時，求著鬧著要20美分去我們樓下的嘛嘛檔買一種叫“佳佳”的雞肉味零食，只為了得到里面藏著的驚喜小玩具。

小時候我常跟著媽媽去我們錦茂社區(qū)的菜市場，盡是美好回憶——在迷宮般的攤鋪里兜來兜去；小心翼翼地避免穿著拖鞋滑倒；魚攤和蔬菜攤的水滴到了拼花地板上，腳趾頭一不小心就被地上的水弄濕了；聽著媽媽用潮州話與賣蔬菜的攤主講價，這位攤主轉(zhuǎn)頭就開始用馬來語和另一位顧客交談。

我同樣記得，很久之前，菜市場的小販會出售活雞，這些活雞被裝在金屬籠里，籠子旁邊放著一些很大的金屬桶。小時候，我經(jīng)常想他們是不是會用這些桶來煮這些雞。

有消息傳出錦茂小販中心與市場將會在2014年的下半年面臨一次大整改，而這次的整改很可能會讓這個三十多年不變的地方面目全非。當(dāng)我聽到這個消息時，我的心開始為這個即將消失的地方感到哀傷，這是我童年時期常去而至今尚存的其中一個地方。

對于許多住在快速變化的新加坡的當(dāng)?shù)厝藖碚f，我們小時候或者年輕時所知道以及喜愛的許多地方都已經(jīng)消失不見了。我想這是住在一個土地稀缺的國家所要付出的代價，在這里，不斷的城市改建實屬常事。

四年前，我和哥哥詹姆斯小時候常去的錦茂社區(qū)里的一家經(jīng)營了三十多年的文具書店關(guān)門倒閉了。過去我常常對此津津樂道：在過去的三十多年里，這家店幾乎一成不變，架子上擺放著的還是我七歲時買過的那幾種筆記本和備忘錄，收銀臺后面還是放著同樣的小飾品。這個地方是我們童年時代的標(biāo)志，讓我可以真正地在同一塊水泥地板上追溯童年時代的足跡。然而現(xiàn)在，文具書店消失了，取而代之的是一家美容院。

沒錯，新加坡的博物館里和書上的圖片確實可以勾起我們對當(dāng)?shù)乩系胤降幕貞?。許多我們喜愛的公共地方，諸如舊國家圖書館、新加坡國家劇院、范克里夫水族館，甚至是過去的舊操場，如今也只能從書上或者這些地方的紀(jì)念路標(biāo)上看到了。

我們?nèi)祟愂菍嶓w生存著的。我們通過感官理解這個世界以及我們自身和世界的關(guān)系。有時候，光靠閱讀是不夠的。我們得感之、聞之、觸之以及與之碰撞，從而形成我們自己的記憶、創(chuàng)造我們自己的故事，然后再以同樣切實的方式把這些經(jīng)歷和故事分享給他人。

我很感激自己能有機(jī)會向我女兒克萊爾分享我的一些童年回憶。幾個月前，我和克萊爾回到了新加坡，我們走到了錦茂市場菜市場區(qū)的金魚檔邊。

三十年了，檔主看起來還是一如我記憶中的那般年輕。對于能夠有機(jī)會把克萊爾帶來這里，我感到欣喜不已。魚兒在許多整齊疊放的魚缸里游來游去，而她，正如多年前的我一樣，著迷地看著這些金光閃閃、銀光閃閃的魚兒。同樣地，她也像我多年前一樣，目不轉(zhuǎn)睛地看著線軸上蠕動的蟲子，線軸輕輕顫抖，慢慢拉出橙棕色的細(xì)線，而在又小又臟的魚缸里，水龜們則在爭先恐后地爬上里面的塑料珠穆朗瑪峰。

與此同時，我注意到錦茂市場外面的一棵綠蔭大樹被挖走了，取而代之的是一棵纖弱的小樹。正午的太陽灼熱逼人，一只渴望綠蔭的小狗正坐在樹下，無奈這棵小樹卻連這么一只小狗也遮不住。

為什么要挖走這么好的一棵綠蔭大樹，而種上一棵纖弱的小樹呢？我向附近的店主問道。

“他們每隔幾年就換一次樹，因為他們不想讓樹根拱破水泥地?！彼卮鸬馈７浅嶋H，非常合乎常理的回答。在某種意義上，也是非?！录悠率降幕卮稹?/p>

這引起了我的思考……

難道我們是這么一個國家：把樹根種下只為了以后再把它們連根拔起？甚至都沒有給時間讓它們長大？沒錯，也許水泥地是會裂開。事情可能會變得有點兒混亂、有點兒不可預(yù)測。但是毫無疑問，生命的自然狀態(tài)是無比美麗的。把這稱之為感情用事也好，浪漫也罷，我深信這些以前的回憶、老舊的建筑和地標(biāo)對于日新月異的新加坡來說都有著一定的地位和意義。而在某種程度上，人們還沒有充分認(rèn)識到這一點。

我和哥哥以前經(jīng)常玩耍的地方建起了一個新的操場。堆城堡和藏寶藏的沙池不見了，取而代之的是“安全第一的”橡皮墊。而我小時候玩過的那些非?？蓯矍揖哂挟?dāng)?shù)靥厣凝埿位莺臀鞴闲位荩脖贿@些預(yù)制式的塑料金屬滑梯所取代，這些滑梯看起來和我在洛杉磯的操場見過的沒什么兩樣。

這里的一切都很光滑、安全、有效，但是我想念那些粗糙的沙子。我寧可看一張飽受風(fēng)霜、皺紋滿布的臉，也不愿看一張打過肉毒桿菌、細(xì)膩光滑、但卻沒有表情、缺乏個性的臉。

我相當(dāng)肯定我不是唯一一個這么想的人。