Latest news with #TeresaTeng
CNA
3 days ago
- Health
- CNA
At her mother-in-law's bedside, dementia sparked an unexpected bond: 'I felt closer to her than before'
Whenever Teresa Teng's ballad The Moon Represents My Heart plays, Fortuna Tan thinks of, not her husband, but her mother-in-law Wong Ngun Siew. Wong died of pneumonia last year, at the age of 92. She had suffered from dementia for seven years. Tan accompanied her through the last four years of her life when she was bedridden after a stroke, assisting with feeding, bathing and diaper changes. They also spent hours listening to oldies together. It was during those long quiet afternoons that Wong opened up to her daughter-in-law, sharing poignant memories of her childhood, marriage, struggles and hopes – many of which she may not have mentioned to her own children. Through dementia's trials, their relationship blossomed. 'I saw her in a different light and felt closer to her,' said the 53-year-old Tan. 'That's probably why I was willing to care for her till the end.' WHEN STROKE STRUCK Wong had six children, and lived with her youngest son at her own home. One of her daughters took care of her medical needs. In 2017, after being diagnosed with vascular dementia, she also began attending daycare. However, in 2020, Wong suffered a stroke. 'After our regular Saturday family dinner, we watched TV together. Suddenly, she grabbed my daughter's hand and leaned on her. We thought she was going to sleep. But her face changed – one side drooped. That's when we realised she was having a stroke,' Tan recalled. At first, doctors thought Wong would not pull through. But her condition stabilised and she was eventually transferred to a community hospital. That was during the early days of the pandemic, and the hospital only allowed two visitors per patient. One of them had to be Wong's helper, who assisted her with daily needs. Tan's husband wanted to be the second caregiver, but he could not step away from work for extended periods. That was when Tan, a stay-at-home mother who had given up her career as a data analyst many years ago, stepped up. Her two children were then aged 18 and 21. 'I did it out of love for my husband,' Tan told CNA Women. 'I wanted to support him since I was more equipped in dementia care.' She had helped to care for her grandmother, also a dementia patient, from 2017 to 2019 when she died. A FOUR-YEAR CAREGIVING JOURNEY After the stroke, Wong could not move her left side. Bed-bound, she required diapers and had to be fed, changed, bathed, and transferred from bed to geriatric chair and back daily. Wong already had her helper to care for her, but it was often a two-person job. When the helper was cleaning Wong after she had passed motion for instance, she would wriggle a lot and Tan had to help hold her. She had to do the same when Wong had constipation, so that the helper could insert rectal suppositories to aid her bowel movement. Some may baulk at the stench but Tan said it did not bother her. Because dementia often requires round-the-clock care, Tan went to her mother-in-law's house from Mondays to Wednesdays, staying from lunchtime to around 10pm, to support the helper so that she could get much-needed rest. From Thursdays to Saturdays, Wong's other children would step in to support the helper, and on Sunday, Tan and her family would pop by to buy groceries, and check in briefly. To equip herself, Tan enrolled in a six-month course on dementia care by Peacehaven Jade Circle Acaredemy, an eldercare training centre. When she was taking care of her grandmother, Tan had watched her gradually lose the ability to speak Mandarin, and subsequently the Teochew dialect. She felt helpless to make her feel cared for and loved. This time around, she was determined to better equip herself with caregiving skills, communication skills and engagement strategies. With that knowledge, in 2021, she even started a support group, Caring You, Caring Me, for fellow caregivers in church. The group currently has 10 to 12 members who meet every three months to share knowledge, engage in self-care activities such as garden walks and art therapy, and support one another. A TAPESTRY OF MEMORIES One thing Tan's course taught her was how to engage Wong, as slowing down cognitive decline was a priority. Some days, the duo would simply count to 50, count backwards, then count in Mandarin and Malay. Tan also created a personalised playlist of Wong's favourite songs. The duo spent many quiet afternoons just sitting together and listening to the nostalgic tracks of Teresa Teng. Drifting through the corridors of memory, Wong often found herself lost in the past. Out of nowhere, she would ask, 'Where is my mother?' – forgetting that her mother had long since died. 'If I had told her that her mother had died, she might not accept it and would be upset, or she might accept it and be distressed,' Tan said. Instead, Tan would validate her thoughts by saying: 'You are thinking about your mum' and then distract her with further questions. 'I'd say, 'I don't know where your mum is, but can you tell me what she looks like? Why are you looking for her?' 'She said, 'My mum wants me to follow her to the market'. That was how I knew she was recalling the past. So I'll ask her how old she was,' Tan said. That was how Wong's life story unfolded to Tan one memory at a time. 'I found out that my mother-in-law had a hard life growing up. The second oldest among eight children, she had to take care of her younger siblings, and did not get a chance to study. 'She only had the opportunity to go to night school during the Japanese occupation. She later became a seamstress, sewing on-and-off to support the family. 'She met her husband, my father-in-law, during an arranged date with her mother's friend's son. After that one-day date, my father-in-law asked, 'What do you think? Can we be together?' That's how they got married without much dating. 'After marriage, she set up a laundry shop to help support the family. I finally understood why she is always concerned about money,' said Tan. THEIR FINAL JOURNEY TOGETHER With deeper understanding and empathy, the mother-and-daughter-in-law pair grew closer. But the final journey came with other struggles. 'The last year of her life was really a rollercoaster,' said Tan. Wong gradually lost the ability to eat, and Tan would help to feed her on the helper's day off. 'That's very challenging. It took me one hour just to feed her half a bowl of porridge. Sometimes, she would not even open her mouth. Sometimes, she would forget to swallow. I could not give her the second spoonful if she did not swallow, otherwise, she might choke. If the food goes into her lungs, she could develop an infection,' said Tan. Their chat sessions also ended when Wong lost her speech. 'Using the analogy of a library, for dementia, it's as if over time, one book after another disappears from memory,' Wong said. Medical issues such as digestive problems, severe constipation and infection also became more frequent, and Wong was hospitalised almost monthly. 'The phone was always beside me, and when the helper called me, I would try my best to tell her what to do, what medication to give and when to send my mother-in-law to the hospital,' said Tan. 'When the helper lacked rest and had a headache, I'd take over,' said Tan. 'I didn't have much social life because I had to be at the hospital most of the time.' On Dec 4, 2024, Wong made her final trip to the hospital. She was diagnosed with pneumonia. Doctors warned that she had likely come to the end of her journey. One by one, her children and grandchildren visited. Tan also said her final farewells. 'Whenever I had quiet moments with her, I thanked her for the privilege to develop a connection with her during this caregiving journey.' Her mother-in-law died 10 days later. Though Tan was at the hospital then, she did not go up to the ward, opting to give her husband and Wong's children more time with her in her final moments. 'Being there in her final moments was not so important to me. When she was living, I had already shown her care and love, and I knew she felt it,' said Tan. But whenever she hears The Moon Represents My Heart, Tan remembers their bittersweet journey together. 'I won't say it's a sad thing. It brings memories of the good moments I had with her,' she said wistfully.
AllAfrica
10-06-2025
- Entertainment
- AllAfrica
Eternal Queen of Asian Pop's last encore from beyond the grave
Several years ago, an employee at Universal Music came across a cassette tape in a Tokyo warehouse while sorting through archival materials. On it was a recording by the late Taiwanese pop star Teresa Teng that had never been released; the pop ballad, likely recorded in the mid-1980s while Teng was living and performing in Japan, was a collaboration between composer Takashi Miki and lyricist Toyohisa Araki. Now, to the delight of her millions of fans, the track titled 'Love Songs Are Best in the Foggy Night' will appear on an album set to be released on June 25, 2025. Teng died 30 years ago. Most Westerners know little about her life and her body of work. Yet the ballads of Teng, who could sing in Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese and Indonesian, continue to echo through karaoke rooms, on Spotify playlists, at tribute concerts and at family gatherings across Asia and beyond. I study how pop music has served as a tool of soft power, and I've spent the past several years researching Teng's music and its legacy. I've found that Teng's influence endures not just because of her voice, but also because her music transcends Asia's political fault lines. Born in 1953 in Yunlin, Taiwan, Teresa Teng grew up in one of the many villages that were built to house soldiers and their families who had fled mainland China in 1949 after the Communists claimed victory in the Chinese civil war. Her early exposure to traditional Chinese music and opera laid the foundation for her singing career. By age 6, she was taking voice lessons. She soon began winning local singing competitions. 'It wasn't adults who wanted me to sing,' Teng wrote in her memoir. 'I wanted to sing. As long as I could sing, I was happy.' At 14, Teng dropped out of high school to focus entirely on music, signing with the local label Yeu Jow Records. Soon thereafter, she released her first album, 'Fengyang Flower Drum.' In the 1970s, she toured and recorded across Taiwan, Hong Kong, Japan and Southeast Asia, becoming one of Asia's first truly transnational pop stars. Teng's career flourished in the late 1970s and 1980s. She released some of her most iconic tracks, such as her covers of Chinese singer Zhou Xuan's 1937 hit 'When Will You Return?' and Taiwanese singer Chen Fen-lan's 'The Moon Represents My Heart,' and toured widely across Asia, sparking what came to be known as 'Teresa Teng Fever.' In the early 1990s, Teng was forced to stop performing for health reasons. She died suddenly of an asthma attack on May 8, 1995, while on vacation in Chiang Mai, Thailand, at the age of 42. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of Teng's story is that Teng Fever peaked in China. Teng was ethnically Chinese, with ancestral roots in China's Shandong province. But the political divide between China and Taiwan following the Chinese civil war had led to decades of hostility, with each side refusing to recognize the legitimacy of the other. During the late 1970s and 1980s, however, China began to relax its political control under Deng Xiaoping's Reform and Opening Up policy. This sweeping initiative shifted China toward a market-oriented economy, encouraged foreign trade and investment and cautiously reintroduced global cultural influences after decades of isolation. Pop music from other parts of the world began trickling in, including Teng's tender ballads. Her songs could be heard in coastal provinces such as Guangdong and Shanghai, inland cities such as Beijing and Tianjin, and even in remote regions such as Tibet. Shanghai's propaganda department wrote an internal memo in 1980 noting that her music had spread to the city's public parks, restaurants, nursing homes and wedding halls. Teng's immense popularity in China was no accident; it reflected a time in the country's history when its people were particularly eager for emotionally resonant art after decades of cultural propaganda and censorship. For a society that had been awash in rote, revolutionary songs like 'The East is Red' and 'Union is Strength,' Teng's music offered something entirely different. It was personal, tender and deeply human. Her gentle, approachable style – often described as 'angelic' or like that of 'a girl next door' – provided solace and a sense of intimacy that had long been absent from public life. Teng's music was also admired for her ability to bridge eras. Her 1983 album 'Light Exquisite Feeling' fused classical Chinese poetry with contemporary Western pop melodies, showcasing her gift for blending the traditional and the modern. It cemented her reputation not just as a pop star but as a cultural innovator. It's no secret why audiences across China and Asia were so deeply drawn to her and her music. She was fluent in multiple languages; she was elegant but humble, polite and relatable; she was involved in various charities; and she spoke out in support of democratic values. Throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, the Chinese immigrant population in the United States grew to over 1.1 million. Teng's music has also deeply embedded itself within Chinese diasporic communities across the country. In cities such as Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York, Chinese immigrants played her music at family gatherings, during holidays and at community events. Walk through any Chinatown during Lunar New Year and you're bound to hear her voice wafting through the streets. Teng visits New York City's Chinatown during her 1980 concert tour in the U.S. Wikimedia Commons For younger Chinese Americans and even non-Chinese audiences, Teng's music has become a window into Chinese culture. When I was studying in the US, I often met Asian American students who belted out her songs at karaoke nights or during cultural festivals. Many had grown up hearing her music through their parents' playlists or local community celebrations. The release of her recently discovered song is a reminder that some voices do not fade – they evolve, migrate and live on in the hearts of people scattered across the world. In an age when global politics drive different cultures apart, Teng's enduring appeal reminds us of something quieter yet more lasting: the power of voice to transmit emotion across time and space, the way a melody can build a bridge between continents and generations. I recently rewatched the YouTube video for Teng's iconic 1977 ballad 'The Moon Represents My Heart.' As I read the comments section, one perfectly encapsulated what I had discovered about Teresa Teng in my own research: 'Teng's music opened a window to a culture I never knew I needed.' Xianda Huang is a PhD student in Asian languages and cultures, University of California, Los Angeles. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
UPI
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- UPI
'Eternal Queen of Asian Pop' sings last encore from beyond the grave
To the delight of millions of fans of the late Teresa Teng, the track titled 'Love Songs Are Best in the Foggy Night' will appear on an album to be released June 25. Photo by Van3ssa_/ Pixabay Several years ago, an employee at Universal Music came across a cassette tape in a Tokyo warehouse while sorting through archival materials. On it was a recording by the late Taiwanese pop star Teresa Teng that had never been released. The pop ballad, likely recorded in the mid-1980s while Teng was living and performing in Japan, was a collaboration between composer Takashi Miki and lyricist Toyohisa Araki. Now, to the delight of her millions of fans, the track titled "Love Songs Are Best in the Foggy Night" will appear on an album to be released June 25. Teng died 30 years ago. Most Americans know little about her life and her body of work. Yet, the ballads of Teng, who could sing in Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese and Indonesian, continue to echo through karaoke rooms, on Spotify playlists, at tribute concerts and at family gatherings across Asia and beyond. I study how pop music has served as a tool of soft power, and I've spent the past several years researching Teng's music and its legacy. I've found that Teng's influence endures not just because of her voice, but also because her music transcends Asia's political fault lines. From local star to Asian icon Born in 1953 in Yunlin, Taiwan, Teresa Teng grew up in one of the many villages that were built to house soldiers and their families who had fled mainland China in 1949 after the communists claimed victory in the Chinese civil war. Her early exposure to traditional Chinese music and opera laid the foundation for her singing career. By age 6, she was taking voice lessons. She soon began winning local singing competitions. "It wasn't adults who wanted me to sing," Teng wrote in her memoir. "I wanted to sing. As long as I could sing, I was happy." At 14, Teng dropped out of high school to focus entirely on music, signing with the local label Yeu Jow Records. Soon thereafter, she released her first album, Fengyang Flower Drum. In the 1970s, she toured and recorded across Taiwan, Hong Kong, Japan and Southeast Asia, becoming one of Asia's first truly transnational pop stars. Teng's career flourished in the late 1970s and 1980s. She released some of her most iconic tracks, such as her covers of Chinese singer Zhou Xuan's 1937 hit, "When Will You Return?" and Taiwanese singer Chen Fen-lan's "The Moon Represents My Heart," and toured widely across Asia, sparking what came to be known as "Teresa Teng Fever." In the early 1990s, Teng was forced to stop performing for health reasons. She died suddenly of an asthma attack on May 8, 1995, while on vacation in Chiang Mai, Thailand, at age 42. China catches Teng Fever Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of Teng's story is that Teng Fever peaked in China. Teng was ethnically Chinese, with ancestral roots in China's Shandong province. But the political divide between China and Taiwan following the Chinese civil war had led to decades of hostility, with each side refusing to recognize the legitimacy of the other. During the late 1970s and 1980s, however, China began to relax its political control under Deng Xiaoping's Reform and Opening Up policy. This sweeping initiative shifted China toward a market-oriented economy, encouraged foreign trade and investment, and cautiously reintroduced global cultural influences after decades of isolation. Pop music from other parts of the world began trickling in, including Teng's tender ballads. Her songs could be heard in coastal provinces such as Guangdong and Shanghai, inland cities such as Beijing and Tianjin, and even remote regions such as Tibet. Shanghai's propaganda department wrote an internal memo in 1980 noting that her music had spread to the city's public parks, restaurants, nursing homes and wedding halls. Teng's immense popularity in China was no accident. It reflected a time in the country's history when its people were particularly eager for emotionally resonant art after decades of cultural propaganda and censorship. For a society that had been awash in rote, revolutionary songs like "The East is Red" and "Union is Strength," Teng's music offered something entirely different. It was personal, tender and deeply human. Her gentle, approachable style -- often described as "angelic" or like that of "a girl next door" -- provided solace and a sense of intimacy that had long been absent from public life. Teng's music was also admired for her ability to bridge eras. Her 1983 album, Light Exquisite Feeling, fused classical Chinese poetry with contemporary Western pop melodies, showcasing her gift for blending the traditional and the modern. It cemented her reputation not just as a pop star but as a cultural innovator. It's no secret why audiences across China and Asia were so deeply drawn to her and her music. She was fluent in multiple languages; she was elegant but humble, polite and relatable, she was involved in various charities, and she spoke out in support of democratic values. A sound of home in distant lands Throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, the Chinese immigrant population in the United States grew to over 1.1 million. Teng's music has also deeply embedded itself within Chinese diasporic communities across the country. In cities such as Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York, Chinese immigrants played her music at family gatherings, during holidays and at community events. Walk through any Chinatown during Lunar New Year and you're bound to hear her voice wafting through the streets. For younger Chinese Americans and even non-Chinese audiences, Teng's music has become a window into Chinese culture. When I was studying in the United States, I often met Asian American students who belted out her songs at karaoke nights or during cultural festivals. Many had grown up hearing her music through their parents' playlists or local community celebrations. The release of her recently discovered song is a reminder that some voices do not fade -- they evolve, migrate and live on in the hearts of people scattered across the world. In an age when global politics drive different cultures apart, Teng's enduring appeal reminds us of something quieter yet more lasting: the power of voice to transmit emotion across time and space, the way a melody can build a bridge between continents and generations. I recently rewatched the YouTube video for Teng's iconic 1977 ballad, "The Moon Represents My Heart." As I read the comments section, one perfectly encapsulated what I had discovered about Teresa Teng in my own research: "Teng's music opened a window to a culture I never knew I needed." Xianda Huang is a doctoral student in Asian Languages and Cultures at the University of California-Los Angeles. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article. The views and opinions in this commentary are solely those of the author.
Epoch Times
28-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Epoch Times
The Inspiring Teresa Teng
Commentary After the Soviet Empire expired in the 1989–91 period, commentators worldwide revealed the autopsy results. The patient died of terminal socialism, a disease characterized by backward economies, massive shortages, and the absence of competition in both political and economic life. Powerful internal resistance movements (such as Solidarity in Poland), encouraged by the resolute leadership of Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher, and Pope John Paul II, helped pull the plug. The state had indeed 'withered away,' but not in the fashion the false prophet Karl Marx envisioned. The role played by music in ending so many evil regimes, Rock & Roll in particular, is not so well understood. Historian Larry Schweikart Though a tune involves an entire group performing collectively, what struck home to listeners was the distinctiveness of individuals within the group. Band members accompanied Bruce Springsteen, for example, but it was Springsteen who stood out and inspired the imagination of young fans. How refreshing in societies where propaganda had long taught that it was the collective that mattered, not the individual! Individuality is the toxin that music injects into the totalitarian system. Try as it might, the system ultimately cannot resist it. Schweikart 'We could keep out books. We could keep out television. But we could not keep out rock 'n' roll. Rock 'n' roll was fundamental to bringing down communism.' Related Stories 5/15/2025 5/2/2025 A similar story played out in Communist China, though it helped produce regime change , not regime extinction (unfortunately). It involves a pop music icon from Taiwan, Teresa Teng 鄧麗君(1953–1995). Teresa Teng established herself as Asia's premier singer in a career that spanned nearly three decades. She mixed Eastern and Western genres into her own unique popular music. No Asian musician came close to her renown in the decades of the '80s and '90s. She was a superstar by any estimation, recording more than 1,700 songs and selling about 48 million albums. Her songs of love and relationships, combined with a new 'breath singing' method, broke the collectivist mold ordained by authorities in communist countries like China. Young people turned to Teresa Teng to escape the boredom of official tunes meant to glorify state and country. Teng's music began to be pirated into mainland China in the mid-'70s, and would influence listeners in the Communist state just as Rock & Roll helped shred the Iron Curtain in Europe. Check out the music video for ' The PRC hard-liners perceived the threat almost immediately. Not only was Teng from Taiwan, which Beijing considered a breakaway province, but her music also celebrated the individual instead of the state. Her lyrics were not explicitly political, but she occasionally sang of freedom in vague terms. People found the music liberating, so Beijing's paranoids banned her work for years. Meanwhile, Mao Zedong died in 1976, opening the door for a new generation of reformers led by Deng Xiaoping. He became the mainland's leader in 1978, and, like Gorbachev in the Soviet Union, he recognized that sclerotic socialism needed some measure of freedom to reform. Under the slogan 'It doesn't matter what color the cat is as long as it catches mice,' Deng opened the country to limited free enterprise, foreign trade and investment, and a diversity of cultural influences (the 'Open Door Policy'). By the time of Deng's reforms, Teresa Teng's songs had already flooded China's black markets. Deng's government surrendered to the inevitable and lifted the ban on Teng's music in the mid-'80s. Her notoriety then broke all records. It was widely said that while Chinese people listened to 'old Deng' by day, they preferred to hear 'little Teng' by night. Then came the nightmare of the Tiananmen Square massacre in early June 1989. Student protesters by the thousands occupied Beijing's main square for a month, demanding greater freedom and an end to the communist one-party monopoly. Teresa Teng supported the students from afar, even performing before 300,000 in Hong Kong in their defense. But as the world sadly knows, Deng Xiaoping ordered the Army to crush the uprising, killing at least a thousand and jailing many more. She never performed on the mainland. After Tiananmen Square, she publicly declared she would not do so until the two Chinas were united under freedom, not communism. Teng earned millions as Asia's music superstar and became a pioneering philanthropist, raising huge sums for projects ranging from water systems in Thailand to disaster relief and other charitable endeavors in multiple countries. To the communists in Beijing, that was another mark against her because humanitarian assistance should come from the State, not private, 'greedy' capitalists. As the first Chinese-speaking vocalist to gain recognition and international influence, she opened doors for other artists throughout the region. Her notoriety ultimately reached every continent. Countries that issued postage stamps in her honor include: Russia; Sierra Leone, Mali, and Guinea-Bissau in Africa; Grenada in the Caribbean; as well as many in Asia. Her music still sells briskly the world over. Teresa Teng died at the age of 42 from a severe asthma attack while in Thailand. Her premature demise sent shock waves throughout Asia, but the spirit of her unique music resonates to this day. When the captive peoples of Beijing's tyranny are someday liberated, we will look back and likely credit Teng's music for contributing to the revolutionary spirit that finally got the job done. From the Views expressed in this article are opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.
The Star
10-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Star
Unreleased song to mark singer's death anniversary
AN unreleased song by legendary singer Teresa Teng would be launched next month to mark the 30th anniversary of her death, Nanyang Siang Pau reported. The announcement was made by Teng's brother, Frank Teng Chang-fu, at a special commemorative concert in Taiwan. He said the family had gone to great lengths to secure the rights to the Japanese track, literally translated as 'Romance Song Loves the Foggy Night', as the original songwriters had died. Frank also shared that his sister cherished every song she performed, with her favourite being the Japanese hit Toki no Nagare ni Mi o Makase (Give Yourself to the Flow of Time), released in 1986, which helped her gain popularity in Japan. The Chinese version of the song, Wo Zhi Zai Hu Ni (I Only Care About You), was released the following year. Throughout her career, Teng recorded more than 1,700 songs in various languages. She died on May 8, 1995 in Thailand. She was 42. > Major Chinese dailies reported that a television drama, based on the award-winning novel The Age of Goodbyes by Malaysian author Li Zi Shu, would begin filming in July. The entire filming process will take place in Malaysia. Set against the backdrop of Ipoh, the novel follows the life of a blind woman, Yin Xia, chronicling her journey alongside childhood friends over several decades. It was reported that the production team from China spent two years developing the script before preparing to film last year. The drama will feature 20 episodes and is expected to air in August 2026. > The above article is compiled from the vernacular newspapers (Bahasa Malaysia, Chinese and Tamil dailies). As such, stories are grouped according to the respective language/medium. Where a paragraph begins with this ' >'sign, it denotes a separate news item.
