could she?
Uncle Weiren saw the shock on my face and said, “This is good stuff for old folks who have joint pains and backache. Your grandparents both had arthritis, I remember. I use a cup of this drink every day, so I thought they might like it too.”
I didn’t know what to make of that. Probably the bottle of liquor had just been handy. He could have brought along a new bottle without a snake in it. In any case, I thanked him, as if these graves had been my charge, not that of some relatives I’d never met. I took the apples and pears out of the basket and placed them in front of the graves, on two small flattish rocks I had picked up nearby. I stood and stepped aside to gather my courage. Then I returned to the graves, held my hands together before my chest, and said in Mandarin: “Dear Grandpa and Grandma, I came all the way to see you. We live far away, thousands of miles from here. My dad, your son, cannot come, so I am here on his behalf. He missed you and loved you. I love you too. Please forget your worries and rest in peace …”
As I was speaking, tears trickled down my cheeks. There was so much I didn’t know how to say. I knew they had died in 1960, within three months of each other. My father had recorded this in his diary. After being informed of their deaths, he was laid up with grief in a hotel room in Hong Kong for two days.
To our right, about twenty feet away, was a pile of earth like a giant loaf. It had also been tended recently.
“That’s your brother’s grave,” Uncle Weiren said.
I went over and added a few shovels of fresh dirt, then left an apple and a pear at the front of his grave. Though heavyhearted, I couldn’t conjure up an image of him. If only I’d seen his photo.
Uncle Weiren and I went back to the house for lunch, which consisted of dough flake soup, fried toon leaves, and scrambled eggs. I was grateful for the simple meal, though I knew it mighthave become a banquet if I were a male family member. Both Minmin and I enjoyed the lozenge-shaped flakes used in place of noodles in the soup. Our good appetite pleased Aunt Ning, who continued to ladle more into our bowls. On the back of her hand was a tiny burn covered with ointment to prevent a blister from forming. This was the first time I’d eaten toon leaves, which were fragrant and had a mellow aftertaste. Their texture in the mouth reminded me of collard greens.
“Where did you get this, Aunt Ning?” I asked.
“From those trees.” She pointed to the backyard, then to the dish. “This is from last year. In a month or so we can have fresh toon leaves.”
I had assumed they were a vegetable grown in a field. My father had mentioned them several times in his diary, in addition to some herbs, such as amaranth, purslane, and shepherd’s purse. In a late May entry he said that toon leaves were in season back home, and he must have been craving them.
After lunch I took two sets of Legos out of the trunk of Minmin’s car and gave them to Uncle Weiren and Aunt Ning for their grandchildren. Then we said good-bye and drove back to the county seat. It wasn’t three o’clock yet, the sky was streaked with only a few high clouds, and it would be a fine evening. Minmin and I decided to check out of the inn and head back to Beijing.
On our drive north, Minmin asked me about my father. I told her that he had worked for China, living in Japan and then America. I even said he had planned to retire back to his homeland, but he died of an illness in DC. “Don’t let anyone know my family background,” I said.
“Of course I won’t,” she promised. “I guess your father might have been bamboozled by the Chinese government. It must be a sad story.”
“His life was very complicated. I’m still trying to piece it together. Don’t let anyone get wind of this trip, all right?”
“Sure, I’ll keep my lips sealed.”
1954
For the first time, Gary took a vacation. George Thomas, recently married and having just
Uncle Weiren saw the shock on my face and said, “This is good stuff for old folks who have joint pains and backache. Your grandparents both had arthritis, I remember. I use a cup of this drink every day, so I thought they might like it too.”
I didn’t know what to make of that. Probably the bottle of liquor had just been handy. He could have brought along a new bottle without a snake in it. In any case, I thanked him, as if these graves had been my charge, not that of some relatives I’d never met. I took the apples and pears out of the basket and placed them in front of the graves, on two small flattish rocks I had picked up nearby. I stood and stepped aside to gather my courage. Then I returned to the graves, held my hands together before my chest, and said in Mandarin: “Dear Grandpa and Grandma, I came all the way to see you. We live far away, thousands of miles from here. My dad, your son, cannot come, so I am here on his behalf. He missed you and loved you. I love you too. Please forget your worries and rest in peace …”
As I was speaking, tears trickled down my cheeks. There was so much I didn’t know how to say. I knew they had died in 1960, within three months of each other. My father had recorded this in his diary. After being informed of their deaths, he was laid up with grief in a hotel room in Hong Kong for two days.
To our right, about twenty feet away, was a pile of earth like a giant loaf. It had also been tended recently.
“That’s your brother’s grave,” Uncle Weiren said.
I went over and added a few shovels of fresh dirt, then left an apple and a pear at the front of his grave. Though heavyhearted, I couldn’t conjure up an image of him. If only I’d seen his photo.
Uncle Weiren and I went back to the house for lunch, which consisted of dough flake soup, fried toon leaves, and scrambled eggs. I was grateful for the simple meal, though I knew it mighthave become a banquet if I were a male family member. Both Minmin and I enjoyed the lozenge-shaped flakes used in place of noodles in the soup. Our good appetite pleased Aunt Ning, who continued to ladle more into our bowls. On the back of her hand was a tiny burn covered with ointment to prevent a blister from forming. This was the first time I’d eaten toon leaves, which were fragrant and had a mellow aftertaste. Their texture in the mouth reminded me of collard greens.
“Where did you get this, Aunt Ning?” I asked.
“From those trees.” She pointed to the backyard, then to the dish. “This is from last year. In a month or so we can have fresh toon leaves.”
I had assumed they were a vegetable grown in a field. My father had mentioned them several times in his diary, in addition to some herbs, such as amaranth, purslane, and shepherd’s purse. In a late May entry he said that toon leaves were in season back home, and he must have been craving them.
After lunch I took two sets of Legos out of the trunk of Minmin’s car and gave them to Uncle Weiren and Aunt Ning for their grandchildren. Then we said good-bye and drove back to the county seat. It wasn’t three o’clock yet, the sky was streaked with only a few high clouds, and it would be a fine evening. Minmin and I decided to check out of the inn and head back to Beijing.
On our drive north, Minmin asked me about my father. I told her that he had worked for China, living in Japan and then America. I even said he had planned to retire back to his homeland, but he died of an illness in DC. “Don’t let anyone know my family background,” I said.
“Of course I won’t,” she promised. “I guess your father might have been bamboozled by the Chinese government. It must be a sad story.”
“His life was very complicated. I’m still trying to piece it together. Don’t let anyone get wind of this trip, all right?”
“Sure, I’ll keep my lips sealed.”
1954
For the first time, Gary took a vacation. George Thomas, recently married and having just
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