Winter Beauty

Blue Eyes

My high school close friend, Norman, passed away.

It was a windy Tuesday afternoon. We all stood there, all in black, listening to the priest. The leaves of the trees where shaking in the wind, saying their own goodbye to Norman. I had my head down all the times, trying to hide the two streams of tear coming down on my cheeks. It got to a point where I had no choice but to grab my tissue from the front pant pockets, lifted my head and wipe the tears, blow my nose so that I could breathe. It was that brief moment that I had a glimpse of those pairs of deep blue eyes. It belonged to her, Ivy, standing on the other side of the coffin. Actually, I did not know her name then. I was calling her “Blue Eyes” when I left the cemetery that day.

A week later, I could not help myself but to go back to the cemetery. I thought it would be quieter. It would be better for me to say good bye to Norman. The area was cleaned up. No more scattered dirt. No more footprints from the people saying goodbye that day.

I found the tombstone.

Norman Walaski

1960-1982

a good son and a trusted friend

Forever loving

I put down the flowers, sat down. I leaned on the tombstone. I titled my head. With my eyes looking at the clouds above, I was about to chat with Norman when my vision was covered by a pair of deep blue.

“Blue eyes!” I uttered.

“What?”

“Blue eyes!” I said again.

“Are you alright?” she said.

 I quickly got up, patted my pants. There she is, blue eyes.

 She is my height. Short blond hair. I can see directly into her blue eyes.

 "Hi, I'm Wen!" I hesitated but extended my right hand.

 My hand did not last long in the air, she held it. I can tell a lot from a simple handshake. Some ladies extend their hands out as if extending a handkerchief to be touch only. Some are soft like pillow where you want to gently squeeze. Hers was different. It was firm. I can feel her sincerity and confidence.

 "I am Ivy. Are you related to Norman?"

 "Norman?" My mind was still somewhere else.

 "Yes, Norman Walasky." She pointed at the tombstone.

 "Oh yes, Norman! Of course, that's why I'm here, to pay him a visit.” I said.

 "And you, do you know him?" I asked.

 Ivy paused. Her eyes got some sparkle from the tears. "Norman...Norman is my boyfriend." She turned away looking at the mountain in the distance.

 "I am sorry. I don't think I met you before. Norman and I are high school classmates." I tried to break the silence.

 I sat on the grass, looking at the mountains. High school, that was years ago. Norman and I went to San Gabriel High School in Southern California. We clicked the first time we saw each other. He loves to sing. He is good at debate too. We were both not very athletic. We kept ourselves busy with the student council.

 One day, during our junior year, I was just learning how to drive. Norman let me use his Jeep to practice in the school parking lot. It was a car with stick shift. That was a real challenge for me. I did good. I drove around the parking lot with only one time that I need to restart the car. There is a fine balance between releasing the clutch and stepping on the gas.

Then it happened again. The car stopped behind the little Volkswagen beetle of our basketball coach. I restarted the car, stepped on the clutch, and changed gears. I looked back, release clutch and step on the gas pedal. Instead of going backward, the Jeep went forward. I heard a pop. I crushed something. I quickly step on the brake, put the gear to neutral and turn off the engine. I went out to inspect the damage. The beetle’s left rear bumper was smashed. The Jeep is fine. As I stood there, I can feel the blood draining from my body. I feel like I was going to faint anytime.

I sat on the ground. I do not know how long but enough to clear my mind. The parking lot is empty. No one saw me. Coach has a temper. I dare not talk to him. Beside, how do I pay for the repair? It was a bad day. When I was about to cry, Norman came out of the building. He saw the two cars. He sat down with me.

“Wen, it is ok. The Jeep is insured. That will take care of the damage.”

I was scared. What will happen when my father learns about this? I don’t think he is going to be happy. He will be yelling and screaming. “What do you think you are doing? Trying to learn how to drive? You do not even have money to get a car! Don’t you know that driving is dangerous! Look at what you have done! Get down on your knees and stay there! Think of what you have just done!”

It was a long walk home that day. We live only three blocks from the school. Even with Norman’s reassurance, I was really scared. We did not tell my father about it. Norman took care of everything. The coach did not call my father.

That was my best memory of Norman. A helping friend. As they say, a friend in need is a friend indeed. I can count on him to help me.

When I turn around, Ivy was also sitting on the grass. She was also on her own little world. Probably thinking about her memory with Norman.

“Ivy, what happened to Norman?” After college, I went to Oklahoma State in Stillwater, Oklahoma. Norman stayed in the San Gabriel area. He helped his father with their import business. He decided not to go to college. My family also moved away from the area. I did not have much of a contact with anyone. I got a phone call from my sister three days ago telling me about Norman’s death. My sister also do not know what happened.

“It was an accident. That weekend, Norman went to San Francisco to his usual business trip. He went with their business partner Joe. On Sunday morning, they were supposed to have breakfast. But Norman did not show up. Later, they found him dead in his room.” Ivy paused. She cried again.

I let the silence stay. It must be painful for her to recall.

“They found the video from the camcorder in the hotel hallway. The person was wearing a baseball cap. He knocked at the door. Norman let him in. Apparently, Norman knew him. The police report stated that most likely they got into an argument and Norman was killed. There was no murder weapon. The scene looked like the person grabbed his head and continuously pound it on the floor.” Ivy was able to continue the story.

Enough. That is too painful for both of us to listen. I decided not to ask more questions. I decided just to let it stay like that. Her boyfriend was killed and was gone. So is my best friend.

I left Southern California the next day. I returned to Stillwater, Oklahoma to continue my Master’ studies in Nutritional Science. I got busy. Between running the experiment, taking classes and teaching Nutrition 101, my days were filled.

A year later, on a slow weekend in May, a got a call from Ivy.

“Hi Wen, how are you?”

“Hi! What a surprise! Where are you?”

“I am in Stillwater!” Ivy said.

“Stillwater? Wow, what are you doing here?”

“I have a friend who is going to school here. I needed a break. So when she asked me if I wanted to come, I agreed. And, I thought I can see you again.”

 We met at the Cowboy mall. I used to work at the Peking Palace. We met there and had lunch. Then I brought her to the nearby lake.

I had two girlfriends before. One was during my senior year in high school. The other one was during my junior year in college. For me, it all starts with the initial attraction. I can feel if she is interested in me or not. That made it easy for me to make the move. I have not had a girlfriend where I had to try really hard. Somehow I am not interested in those who love to play the “Hard to get” game.

Ivy is the same. From the first time I saw her blue eyes, I was attracted. However, it was the wrong timing. Norman just passed away. We were both not in the situation to start a new relationship.

I can feel that Ivy is also interested to me. It started with that firm handshake that we had. When she called, I can feel the excitement in her voice.

I park the car by the picnic table. There is big cottonwood tree next to it. It creates a perfect shade for this hot summer afternoon. The place is empty. I love the quietness. We sat on the concrete picnic table, facing the lake. There is a light breeze. I cannot “order” a better weather for this lake visit.

I look at the lake water. A few ducks were swimming by the shore. They are used to see people around. One of them actually walks up close to us.

Ivy bends over and holds it. A duckling. I am surprised to see that. Ivy seems to be good with animals. Her long slender fingers fold into a bowl, and the duckling was just happy to be there.

After a few minutes, she gently put it down.

“Your mother must be looking for you. Go find her!” She said to the duckling.

I laughed. “Wow, you are really good with animals!”

“No, I am not. For some reason, I just feel like hold something today…”Ivy replied.

“Ivy, what do you do?”

“I am a pianist.”

“Are you still in school?”

“Yes, I am doing my Masters in Music at USC.”

“You must play a lot of music.”

“Well, sort of. Practice is never ending.” Ivy suddenly thought of something. “Hey, I have a recital in October. Would you like to come?”

“October. If it is during fall break then I should able to. Let me know the exact date.”

“Great!” Ivy smiled.

I love her smile. Every time she smiles, her blue eyes seem to twinkle. Every time I look at her smile, it feels like I am drowning in the ocean.

Aaron Johnson Recital

Performed by Aaron Johnson, Cielo and Ivy Finzi, Piano

Program

Grieg: Cello Sonata in A minor Op. 36

Bach: Cello Suite #2 in D Minor, BWV 1008

Finzi: Cello Concerto in A Minor, Op. 40

Alfred Newman Recital Hall.

University of Southern California.

I stepped into the hall with full excitement. It will be my first classical music program. Ivy is playing with a Cellist. Grieg, Back, Finzi. I do not know these guys. The last time I heard a classical music recording, I fell asleep. It was boring. Why would people call it classical music? I rather listen to BeeGees.

A live performance is totally different. It is show. It is just like going to Las Vegas, Nevada. It is not only the music. It includes the lighting, the musician’s outfit, and their body language. It is the total effect.

Ivy sits on the left of the stage with the grand piano. Aaron sits on the right with his cello. They look at each other before each play. They gave each other a signal and a connection. I can see the playfulness of the duo. At the lake, Ivy corrected my concept about a pianist.

“We are not accompanist. We do not just play our part of the piece of music. We collaborate. We support our soloist. When they are lost, we bring them back. That’s why our program is called Collaborative Piano.”

I will have to agree with that. As an audience, especially for someone like me who has no clue about the tune or the piece of music that they are playing, what I see is their interaction. Ivy did not just play her piano and hope that Aaron can do his part. They look at each other. It is also like a dance.

At one point in the presentation, I closed my eyes. I allowed the music to flow into me. I imagine a stream of musical notes flowing into my head with my breath and reach my abdomen.  When my abdomen is extended to its maximum fullness, I let the musical notes go out with my breath. It was very relaxing. Now I understand why it I called classical music. It withstood the test of time. It crossed the boundary of culture. It is a universal language.

After the recital, they do their usual snack and visiting. I grab a piece of cookie and a cup of lemonade. I do not know anyone. So I stayed at the back of the lobby waiting for Ivy to come. I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

“Can you walk me back to my dorm later?” Ivy softly said.

I nodded. “Let me wait for you outside.”

October night in Southern California. Perfect temperature. I sat by the steps in front of the building. My mind was at peace. I can feel that I am having a new person in my life. That’s an excitement! Everything seems to be clearer. The moon seems to be brighter. The bushes under the street light seem to be more alive. And the light breeze seems to be fresh even though this campus is right in the middle of the greater Los Angeles area.

“Hi!”

I turned around. There she is. All black outfit. It looks really great with her blond hair. The gold necklace is just the perfect addition.

“Hi!” I said, standing there, just admiring the beauty in front of me.

“Well, did you enjoy the program?”

“Oh yes! Definitely. This is the first time that classical music did not put me to sleep!” I said.

“If that because of me?” She said with a smile.

I did not know how to reply. I smiled.

“Let’s go. You have to show me the way.” I finally said.

The recital hall is at the eastern part of the campus and her dorm is at the western end. We had a long walk. Somewhere in that walk, I hold her hand. It was soft. It was a little moist. We actually did not talk. She probably needed a break from the recital. I totally enjoyed it. From time to time, we looked at each other and smiled. I would squeeze her hand a little bit. Before I knew, we were in front of the dorm.

We stood there facing each other. I held her cheeks with my hands. I gave her a kiss.

That night, I could not sleep. How could I? I know I am in love. I decided to get up and write a poem.

 Blue Love

I want to swim in the blue ocean

Listening to you and to your story

I want to smell your constant potion

Touching your cheek and say no sorry

 

Let the moon and the star be our witness

This is the night our hearts touch

Let the trees and bushes remember the sweetness

This is the walk our love hatches

 

Our kiss has just begin

The embrace will keep on coming

This is a dream I want no waking

This is a journey I want to be getting

 

No one can tell me what love is like

I got it in this October night

 

Christmas came and went. Valentine’s day came and went. Ivy and I talked on the phone every week. Both of us live on the dorm. Calling each other can be challenging. I write her a letter almost every week. She lives in Southern California and I am in Stillwater, Oklahoma. The distance can be a killer but we manage to stay connected. She was busy with her music program and I was busy with my nutritional research. That summer, I decided to find a part time job in Southern California. We were able to see each other more often. Our relationship deepens.

Then it is time to introduce her to my parents. My parents left Southern California and moved to the Bay area after I finished high school. My father was born in 1940 in southern China. During the Second World War, my grandfather managed to move the family to Southern California. My father grew up in Los Angeles’ Chinatown. My grandfather owns a hardware store. Business was good. Over the years, the store got bigger and bigger. My grandfather was very strict with my father’s education. Inside the house, he is not allowed to speak any language except for Mandarin. Grandpa will give him Chinese home work to do. My father can read, write and speak Mandarin very well.

They celebrate all the traditional Chinese customs. Chinese New year was a big one. We would go to grandpa’s house that day, all wearing brand new clothes. We would say “Kong Shi Fa Chay” to grandpa and he will give us a red envelope with cash inside. I get to keep the envelope and father gets to keep the money. He said that it was for my college education.

Chinatown is an interesting world. You get to keep your Chinese traditions while interacting with the rest of the community. In a way, we follow two rules. Growing up, I find it challenging sometimes to remember which rule to follow.

My father is a typical Chinese father. Authoritarian. He is the head of the family. Strict. He makes all the decisions. No discussions allowed. He also believes in physical punishment. I had a taste of that in elementary school. If I get an A in school, I get a quarter which I get to save. If I get a grade lower than that, I need to kneel in front of him, extend my hand palms up. He would pull out his belt and give me a whip.

For the traditional Chinese, carrying the family name is very important. That’s why they need to have a son. In the old Chinese society, if the wife cannot bear a child or no son was born, the husband would bring in a second wife. Even though my father did not grow up in China, he was educated that way.

By the end of summer, before I return to Oklahoma, I decided to bring Ivy to meet my family in the Bay area. My parents live in Union City. We drove up highway 101, towards San Jose, and then we headed northeast from there.

My parents knew that I am in a relationship. They also knew that Ivy is not Chinese. The first time I told my father, he did not say much. I know that he is not happy. I am his eldest son. I am the one who carries the family name. In his world, he would want a Chinese daughter in law. He would want his first grandchild to be a Chinese boy.

When we step into the house, my father saw us and said, “Did you eat already?”

That is the Chinese way of greeting. Having a meal is important. So the greeting is always “Did you eat?” and not “How are you?” Also, we do not hug. Never. In my twenty two years of life, I never hug my father or mother.

It was a little awkward for Ivy. She does not know how to react. I did tell her a little about my father and the Chinese tradition. She does what she does best, smile.

My parents were in a happy mood that day. We had lunch at home. They “interviewed” Ivy. Ivy did well. I guess if someone can play beautiful music in front of hundreds of people, they can face any challenge.

We did not stay long. After lunch, we drove back to Los Angeles. We did stop by Monterey Bay and got a glimpse of the famous Pebble Beach Golf Course. We stood by the Pacific Ocean; listen to the sound of waves crushing into the shore. I look at the happy seagulls. They were there, flying, making noises. No one tells them what to do. No one set rules for them. I wondered if they follow certain rules as far as which mate to have.

After our trip to Union City, Ivy returned to school. I returned to Stillwater and was getting ready for the new semester when the call came. Since the day Ivy met my father, I have been worried. Just being home reminded me of the Chinese rule. It has been ingrained in my mind from my younger years.

“Respect the elders.”

“It is important to be obedient to your parents.”

“Do not travel far when your parents are still alive.”

“There are three big disobedient ways towards your parents. The biggest one is not having offspring.”

“A son should not complaint that his father has no money. A father should not complaint that his son does not look handsome.”

I picked up the phone and said Hi.

“Wen, I need to talk to you about Ivy.” My father started.

“It looks like you and ma enjoyed her company.” I said.

“Yes, she is a lovely woman. She is smart. She is very mature. But, she is not Chinese.” Then he followed, “You do remember that you are Chinese, right?”

“Yes, I do.” I can feel my rebellious emotion creeping up my throat.

“Then why did you get into a relationship with a non-Chinese? Are you going to marry her?”

“Pa, she is not Chinese but we really love each other.”

“Love. Is that more important than being disobedient to your parent? To your family?” He said.

Knowing him, I knew what he is going to say next.

“Ha, now that your wings are bigger and stronger, you are ready to do your own thing right?”

I remained silent.

“Where did all the teachings that I gave you go? So those are garbage now, ha?”

I remained silent. My hand was sweating. I was holding the phone tighter.

“Look, you can marry her, but, over my dead body!” He yelled.

“Are you listening to me?” He yelled again.

“Yes, I am.” I said softly.

It brings back tons of old memories. Growing up was not easy. With my father’s temper, it felt like walking on egg shell at home. One time I pick up a superstition. It said that if your ears are itchy, someone is mad at you. So since then, every time my ears start to itch, I look for my father. If I see that he is not mad, I am relieved. He wanted me to excel so bad that during first grade, I went to bed at midnight just to master everything and make sure that I get an A in the test.

I did not remember how the call ended. All I remember was the ultimatum.

“YOU HAVE TWO WEEKS TO END THE RELATIONSHIP!”

I started the new semester in total chaos. I lost my appetite. I was still able to draw blood from my subjects. I skipped a few classes. The first call to Ivy was hard. I tried so hard to cover my pain. Ivy picked up the difference in my tone right away.

“Wen, what’s wrong? Ivy asked.

“Ivy, I am ok. There is some problem with my project, looks like we have to repeat the last batch of blood test.” I lied.

“Wen, there is more. I love you. I love our relationship. I want you to be open with me. Whatever it is, we can face it together.” She added.

I did not know how to continue. It feels like someone stab into my heart and split it into two parts. It seems like I cannot have it all. How can I be an obedient son and at the same time keep my love? How?

“Wen, it is your father. Right?” Ivy asked again.

“Wen?”

“You…you are right. It is my father.” I replied.

“He wants you to break up with me. Right?” She pursued.

“Ivy, I love you! I want you to remember that!”

“And?”

“Give me time. Please give me time.” I begged.

“Wen, I love you too! I do not want to see you struggling like that. The day I met your father, I can feel that he wants a Chinese daughter-in-law. He told me all his dreams for you. He wants you to have a bright future. He wants you to go to medical school and become a doctor.” Ivy said.

After we hang up, I decided to go for a walk. I ended up in the Student Union. There was a big bulletin board at the entrance. A flyer caught my attention.

PAINTING FOR INTUITION AND AWARENESS

CREATIVE BRUSH STUDIO

ONE DAY WORKSHOP

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18TH 10AM TO 4PM

CALL 405-299-8858

I look at it for a while. Painting. I used to love painting in grade school. I have not done it in a long time. I pulled a tab and called later. Intuition. That is another word that might help me.

Saturday morning came, I went to the class without any expectation. I want to get all the help I can to solve my dilemma.

Dorothy greeted me at the door. She has a studio at the back of the house. We first sat down and talk. Sharon was the other participant that day. Dorothy explained how she learned about intuitive painting. The goal is simple: there is no goal. We are there to play, to have fun. Through fun and freedom, we allow our intuition to come forward. There is no comment about our painting or the other person’s painting. We paint with what comes into our mind.

I put up the first paper. I grabbed the brush and looked at the different colors in front of me. Pink. That color stands out. I painted some spreading lines. It opens like a water lily. I got another color and painted another flower. Eventually, the scene of a water lily pond came out. It calmed me down.

On the second painting, I started with a red heart at the bottom. I put 2 hands at the bottom of the heart, one for my father and one for Ivy. I put some black lines on both sides, like vibrations. I put a black dot in the middle of the heart, that’s me.  I did not know how to proceed. I decided just to put little white dots on the black vibration lines on both sides. It’s like “She loves me, she loves me not…”

A few moments later, I drew feather like lines from the top of the heart. Then I put some red dots. I felt it is my heart exploding into pieces and my heart is yelling “how about me?”

I felt like leaving both of them. Just leave. Just walk away.

Dorothy came by and asked how I am doing. I explained to her my painting, what I was trying to decide. And as I turned a little and really look at her, I found a pair of blue eyes. Oh! Blue eyes. Serendipity? A message from the Universe?

Dorothy said, “That is what you know. There may be options that you do not know.”

Then she added, “Can you see other things or color that can be added to the painting?”

I look at the painting again. I can see yellow, red and orange colors all over and in the form of flowers.

“Yes. I can see yellow, red, and orange flowers all over.”

“Then go ahead and draw them.” Dorothy said.

I finished the painting with orange flowers all over. I felt that I got the answer. The choices are not either Ivy, my father or me. I do not have only one option. The future can include Ivy, my father and me.

That night, I prayed. I was grateful to have a father who nurtured me and gave me a home to grow up. I am grateful that I found my soul mate, Ivy. I am grateful that I found myself. I can be included in all the decisions that I make. I do not have to sacrifice. I am love. We are love.

It is as if I changed the vibration of the Universe. What happened next is beyond my comprehension.

Two days later, my father called.

“Ivy called me yesterday. She is a very smart lady. I am surprised how much she knows about the Chinese culture.” I held my breath.

He continued. “I do not know if it is you who told her, but she knows a lot about our family. I can feel that she really loves you. She did her research. I realized that it is important for us to keep our tradition. But in the end, it is more important for you to have someone who loves you and will be with you through good times and bad times.”

He paused. “Wen, I will not be with you forever. As a father, I want to see that you have a good supporting family. Whether you go to medical school or not is not important.”

I dropped my jaw. I was speechless.

All I can mutter was, “Pa, thank you. I really appreciate this!”

“Do not thank me. Thank Ivy. Call her.” He said.

I hanged up and walked out the dorm. The late afternoon sun is shining on the brick wall of our dorm. It seems that my whole world is glowing. I stood there, soak in the new energy.

“Life is good!”

 

 

 

 

 

Morse Code

1.

2002, Albuquerque, New Mexico

John fell asleep in the cough. He was watching a BBC documentary on Youtube about the Celtic culture. This is his first night at the apartment.

That afternoon, a Wednesday afternoon, he moved out. He moved out of a marriage that lasted 13 years. Before their wedding, they went to see a fortune teller. The guy said that they would only last 4 years. It lasted 13 years! Every time John thinks about it, he felt a tightness in his chest.

He did not have much time to find a place. This was not too expensive, not too old. It is very convenient. Just a 7 minute drive to work. PennSquare Apartment. Interesting name.

It was 3 am when he was awaken by a noise. A tap. A tap from the kitchen. It sounds like someone was tapping on the wall. Morse code, yes, the rhythm sounds like a Morse code, not the electric buzzing like sound, but a long short long short rhythm.

He took down his headphone, and put the ipad aside. The room is a little chilly. The only light that is on is the kitchen light. The take out Chinese boxes are still on the kitchen counter.

Tap. Tap tap. Tap.

Tap tap, tap tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap tap, tap tap, tap tap.

Now he got it. It comes from behind one of the kitchen cupboard. He slowly turn and walked to the stove. He opened the right side cupboard, nothing. He opened the left side cupboard, nothing.

It is 3 am. He is still tired from the move. Finding nothing, he decided to head to the bedroom and get some sleep.

The next morning, while at work, he received an interesting mail. His secretary usually throw out the junk mail. He was not sure how this one got to him. It looks like a junk mail.

Attention. Do you problem with your new place? Does it feel like there something unusual going on? It is a common scenario. Call us at 1-800-234-9999 or visit our website www.unusualplace.com

That’s it. Someone is making fun of him. How did anyone know that he moved? The only person he called last night was David who lives in Pennsylvania. No, this is a joke. He tossed the card into the trash can.

The second night was a little better, Even though he saw 24 patients that day, he was not as run down as the day before. The same Chinese takeout and a can of coke took care of dinner. It is 7 pm. He sat on the couch again, turn on his ipad, and put on the headphone. He was watching the BBC documentary about the Celtic culture last night. He noticed that he was only half way done.

He is Chinese. His grandparents are from China. There is no Celtic blood in their family as far as he can remember. John grew up in San Francisco. The family moved there when he was 6 years old. They lived in this little unit next to the busy Chinatown. He grew up watching tourists walk through Chinatown with their camera. His parents eventually open a store and sell tourist stuff. After school, he needed to go to the store and help. Most of the time, he has to fold the souvenir T shirt. Most tourist will pick up the shirt, take a look and just put it down.

The only Irish person he knew then was Mr. McDowell. He is the delivery man from a company which makes the T shirt that they sell. Once a week, at 3 pm, on a Wednesday, he will show up with his little van, park in front of the store, quickly unload the T shirts, get a quick signature and drive off. He loves to smoke a pipe. He wears a flat cap like most Irish. One time John heard him mention something about golf. He was talking to his dad, saying something like, “Yes! It was a hole in one! My first one! 140 par yards par 3, number 2, it was an easy 6 iron, just carried the bunker, two hops and rolled straight into the cup!” John can still remember his smile. It was smile like he just won the lottery.

One day, in the summer of 1971, Mr. McDowell showed up at the store. It was a slow day for business. There is really no rhyme or rhythm to it. That’s how business is in Chinatown. It can be in the middle of a holiday season and business can be dead. He asked John’s dad and see if he can bring John to the golf course to play.

They went to the Golden Gate Golf Course, right in the middle of the Golden Gate State Park. Mr. McDowell handed John a 7 iron. He showed John how to hold the club. Then that’s it. “Let’s play my son!” He said. Being a golf course in the middle of the city, it is not very long. When we got to the first tee, Mr. McDowell gave John a putter, a tee and a ball. For John, that was the best Christmas gift in the middle of summer.  John can see that Mr. McDowell is a regular player there. He knows everyone. They were very lucky that day again because the course was not busy.

The first hole is 280 yards par 4. A slight dogleg to the left. Part of the green can be seen from the tee. John put the ball on the tee, put his hands on the club, set up, turn his body and made a swing. The club head came in contact with the ball and just like that, the ball went up the air, form a nice arc and landed 100 yards in the middle of the fairway. That was his first day on the golf course. His first date with golf. He forgot how long they were out here. All he remember is that after dinner that day, he went to bed with his two new friends, a seven iron and a putter.

Mr. McDowell works 5 days a week. He is off on Tuesdays and Sundays. That summer, they became a regular twosome every Tuesday. He made the game fun. They do not keep score. Mr. McDowell taught John how to be creative with his 2 clubs. His putter can be used not just on the greens. He used it from the fringe, sometimes even out of the bunker when the lip is low. With his 7 iron, he learn to control his distance by limiting his back swing. Most importantly, they walk and talk.

Just like John, Mr. McDowell was not born in America. He also came as a child. He started playing golf when he was growing up in Ireland. Over there, they play the links course. They are right next to the sea. They have to deal with wind and a rough terrain. The golf courses were not as manicured. They pretty much talk about anything under the sun. Mr. McDowell treated John like his son.

When John met him, he was single. John was 10 years old and he was 30 years old. He was married once. They did not have any children. John did not really ask him a lot about his marriage because he does not seem to enjoy talking about it. So, they talked about golf, golf and golf.

Sometimes he will refer to life also. He would say, “John, golf is a game of opposites. The easier you hit, the farther the ball goes. If you hit down, the ball goes up. The lower score wins the game. Just like life. There will come a time that you will understand. In life, sometimes the harder you try to get something, the harder it is to get…” John usually nods his head, as if he truly understand.

At 9 pm, John was ready to go to bed.

Tap, tap, tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap, tap tap.

There it is. There is that sound again. John got up and walked to the kitchen.

Tap, tap, tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap, tap tap.

This time, John can hear it clearly. It is from the cupboard above the microwave.

“Mouse? This apartment is old. Maybe it is a mouse trapped in there.” John thought.

Tap, tap, tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap, tap tap

“No. It is too rhythmic. It sounds like…it sounds like Morse code!”

John was excited about this. He remembered what Mr. McDowell told him before. Mr. McDowell was in the navy for a short period. In one of his stories, he told John above the signal for help, SOS.

With Morse code, it is short, short, short, long, long, long, short, short, short.

That used to be the secret code between him and Mr. McDowell.

John sat on the bar stool and listen.       

Tap, tap, tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap, tap tap

“Yes! It is SOS! Just like the first time Mr. McDowell showed it to him.

They were standing at Mr. McDowell’s apartment kitchen. He walked over to the cupboards, hooked his right index finger and knocked at the cupboard.

“Tap, tap, tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap, tap tap”

“Remember John, that’s the code for help, SOS.” Mr. McDowell said. “That’s our secret.” He said it with a wink.

 

2.

1997, San Francisco, California.

John completed his residency in Family Medicine. He was excited to get to his new job. But he stopped by San Francisco for a week to visit with family. Mr. McDowell was very sick. With his years of smoking, lung cancer came along. He spoke to Mr. McDowell almost weekly during his last year of residency training. Now that he is moving to northwestern Minnesota for his job, he wanted to see Mr. McDowell.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. He got off the BART, walked two blocks south from Market street. It was a two story apartment. John stopped at the door and knocked. Someone opened the door, it was not Mr. McDowell.

“Hi, I am Judy. I am the nurse from hospice.” A middle age nurse extended her hand with a smile.

“Hi, I am John Wong.” John shook her hand. His mind was somewhere else. “Hospice? Where did that come from?” John was confused. Mr. McDowell did not mention anything about hospice, All John knew was that he has completed his radiation treatment and is doing well. Hospice?

John walked into his bedroom. He was laying on his bed. His hair was really thin. There was an ash color to him. The eyeballs were slightly sunken. He was having some hard time breathing.

John sat down and hold his right hand. Mr. McDowell opened his eyes. There was a sudden sparkle when their eyes met. Mr. McDowell smiled.

“It is good to see you John!” he said.

“It is good to see you too!” John replied. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I am sorry. You were so busy with your residency training. I did not want to add more burden.” Mr. McDowell looked away.

John sighed. “I know, I saw many of my patient’s family do that.”

Mr. McDowell looked back and said, “John, it is time for me to tell you a secret.”

John took a deep breath. “Secret. More secret?”

 

3.

1959, Xiamen, China.

James McDowell was eighteen years old. He left three months ago from his homeland of Dublin, Ireland. Growing up, he works with his father at the brewery. It was the famous Guiness. He decided to quit school after two years of high school. Books were not his interest. His father has been working at the brewery for thirty years. It was easy for him to get in. He started at the warehouse, loading cases of beer into the truck.

After 2 years of working at the brewery, James found a flyer about a ship that will be leaving London to go to Xiamen, China. They were looking for workers. The ship is called “China Luck”. James does not know must about China at that time. He had a vague impression. Their history book briefly mention the Great Wall and the dynasties in China. The opium war between China and Britain brought some attention.

No one in his family has ever left Dublin. His grandparents and great grandparents were all born and raised there. But there that little voice that kept coming to him. “Go for it! Go for an adventure. China Luck is a good sign.” He tossed and turned that night. He put the flyer under his pillow. That night he had a dream about China. He saw a port. He saw some Chinese characters. He saw a Chinese lady about his age. When the lady was about to turn, he woke up.

When he returned from work the next day. His mother was holding the flying in the kitchen. “James”, she asked, “What is this all about?”

“Mother, it is a trip to China. They need workers in the ship.”

“Are you planning to go?”

“I am still thinking about it. I do not know.” James replied.

“No one in our family has ever left Dublin. I believe it is a good idea.”

“Really? I had a dream about it last night. Maybe it is a good idea after all.”

With his mother’s blessing, James decided to sign up for it. A month later, he boarded the ship. China Luck. Those big words were painted at the front of the ship. The ship was so big that he really has to raise his head to see. He was excited.

Two months later, the ship finally found the port of Xiamen. They have one week to unload and load and then return to London. Like most of the workers, James spent the first night at the bar. He looks much older than his age. There is really no age limit for drinking. They had beer after beer until it is time to return to the ship.

 

4.

Gulang Island is a tiny island off Xiamen. They took a little ferry boat to get there. In the island, there is the American and British embassy. James and his friend Patrick decided to go there the day before they are leaving Xiamen. Someone told them that it is a beautiful and peaceful island. Since they did not have anything planned, they took the trip. It took 30 minutes for the ferry to get there. Most of the passengers are locals. People do live in the island. They have to go to Xiamen to get some of their necessities.

From the pier, they wondered into the British embassy complex. It has a big metal gate. A beautiful garden in front. The guards were kind enough to let them wonder at the garden. Since they really do not have anything planned for the day, they just sat there.

Before long, a shadow caught James’ attention. A lady wearing the dark blue shirt and pants walks across the garden and towards the main door of the embassy. She was carrying a basket. The guard at the door seems to know her. He opened the door for her. After 20 minutes, she came out again, still with the basket, but it seems that the basket is lighter. As she walk into the garden again, their eyes met. She stops.

“Hi!” James said.

She nodded.

For some reason, it seems that they have met before. She is about James’ age. Dark long hair braided into two ponytails. Oval shaped face with dark brown eyes. She seems shy but something also kept her in her tracks.

When two soulmates meet, there is no reason to explain why things happen. After their first eye contact, they remained attracted to each other. James can see from those pair of brown eyes that this is the lady of his dream. In fact, this is the lady in his dream before he left Dublin.

Time stood still. James forgot all about his friend Patrick. He stood there.

Finally, she said, “So, are you going to tell me your name?”

James smiled. “I am James. James McDowell. How about you? What’s your name?”

“Mei-ling. Song Mei-ling.”

“May-ling.” James repeated. “May-ling. Is that how you pronounce it?”

“Pretty close!” Mei-ling replied.

“What brought you here, May-ling?” James asked.

“Our family do the laundry for the employees of the embassy. I come here every few days to deliver the clean clothes.” Mei-ling replied. “How about you? Why are you here?”

“I am from Dublin, Ireland. I came here with the ship. We are actually leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Why so soon?”

“Well, I have no control of it. That is the plan. But look, it is early afternoon. You can show me more about the island.” James eagerly said.

James and Mei-ling walked around the island. There were many big trees. In a plaza, James saw two older gentlemen playing Chinese chess under one of the trees. There were children laughing and playing. James stopped and absorbed what he is seeing. Mei-ling smiled.

“Why? Why are you smiling?” James asked.

“Nothing. It is nice to see that you like the place.” Mei-ling replied.

“I love it! It has such a calm feeling. It feels like I have been here before.”

“And it feels like you have seen me before, right?” Mei-ling added.

“Wow, you just read my mind!” James looked at her. There are many things in life that cannot be explained. He travelled half way around the world to meet her. He knows that they are meant to be together.

“Shall we?” Mei-ling pointed towards one of the alley. “Let go to my home.”

The houses in Gulang island are made of bricks. The roofs have beautiful pointed wooden carving. The red tiles that they use for the roof are very practical. One tile on top of another. As the walk in the alley, James feels like he is walking in a maze. It leads from one scene to another. Everything is so new to him and yet there is a feeling of familiarity.

Mei-ling stopped at one of the houses. It has a pair of wooden doors. She pushed it open. A little court yard is in view. They step into it.

“Mom, I am home!” Mei-ling yelled.

There is no answer. “Mom, I am home!” Mei-ling yelled again.

“Well, I think she must be in the market. She told me earlier that she needed to make a special dish tonight.”

James stood at the court yard. There were laundry all over the place. There is a well to the right. In front of him is the main house. It takes three steps to get in. He does not know how to call this. A room with pictures on the wall. There is incense in front of the pictures. It does not look like a foyer. A family room? A living room? A room for the ancestors?

“Come, let me show you around.” Mei-ling tagged him sleeves.

Mei-ling showed him the house. There are three bedrooms. There is a kitchen that is detached from the main house. There is also an outhouse.

They were at the kitchen when James stood close to Mei-ling. She is happy. It seems like she met an old friend. James is happy too. This experience is beyond his dreams. His mother told him to embark on an adventure. What an adventure it is.

When Mei-ling finally stopped moving, James had a better chance to look at her.

Dark black hair. It is parted on top and comes down as two ponytails. She tied a red ribbon at the end of end ponytail. Good luck, I guess. The Chinese love the color red. Her oval face is smooth. She has the typical slanted eyes of a Chinese. She is much shorter than James. The top of her head is right at the level of James’ nose.

Time froze. Every movement seems to be slow. Mei-ling looked up. Their eyes met. There is an attraction that pulled them closer. James can smell flower, maybe Jasmine. His heart is pounding a little faster. He put his left hand behind her head and his right hand on her chin. Everything around them disappeared. Mei-ling closed her eyes and lean forward. James closed his eyes too. There is no sound around them except their pounding hearts. James’ lips touched something soft. A bolt of electricity ran through him. He was ready to melt. All he knew is the smell of Jasmine, a soft moist lip on his lips, and a warm body attached to his body.

 

5.

James decided to stay in Xiamen. He did not board the ship back to London. He found a job delivering newspapers. That was enough for him to have three meals. The owner of the newspaper company has a little room at the back of the office that became his new home. He works seven days a week. On Friday afternoons, he would take the ferry to Gulang Island. Mei-ling would meet him at the pier. They would sit there the whole afternoon, exchanging stories from the week’s work. James always has funny stories from the newspaper company. Sometimes he would have interesting stories from his adventure on the streets. He also would bring hot pastries from the store by the pier in Xiamen.

One afternoon, as James happily walks toward Mei-ling, he noticed that Mei-ling is not smiling. James sat her down. Her eyes were actually teary. Something is wrong.

“May-ling, what happened?”

Mei-ling pulled back her gaze from the sea, looked at James and said, “James, I am pregnant!”

James looked at her. It felt like his heart skipped a few beats. Pregnant. Baby.

There was total silence. Many thoughts went through James’ mind. What to do? He has no answer.

Finally, James collected his thoughts and said, “May-ling, at our state, we cannot afford to raise a child. I also do not believe in abortion.” He paused. “I think we should the baby up for adoption.”

Mei-ling’s mind is somewhere else. She did not sleep last night. In a small village like Gulang Island, she cannot be seen pregnant. Adoption is not in her mind. The most immediate question is: What do I do with this pregnancy?

There was another long silence. They stayed like that for the rest of the afternoon. Sometimes silence is the best answer.

 

6.

1997, San Francisco, California

John heard enough.

It turns out that he is not who he thinks he is. He is actually a blend of Irish and Chinese blood. He was left at the orphanage to be adopted. His parents were young and clueless about life. He felt cheated. He stood up and walked out. Judy, the hospice nurse, tried to stop him. It was too late. He was full of anger.

He took the BART and went to Chinatown. He wanted to stop by the store but decided not to. He needed to walk and think. But when he pass by the Catholic Church, somehow there was a pull that lead him inside.

He sat at the last pew. This is a good place to sit and clear the mind. The church is empty. It is quiet. The altar is clean and bright. He can see the candles with its dancing flames.

John tries to put everything together. His biological father is from Ireland. He is the person who taught him how to play golf. His mother is a young lady from Gulang Island in southern China. He was left at the orphanage when he was a few months old. His present parents adopted him and brought him to United States of America. They took care of him like their own child. It does make sense now why he loves the flat cap and why he picks up golf so easily. He felt bad that Mr. McDowell is dying but the feeling of betrayal overwhelm him.

He sat there, for hours.

When he left the church, it was dark outside. He returned to his parent’s home.

As he lay in his bed that night, he could not shake all the thought that has been following him the whole day. He loves Mr. McDowell, but he now feels betrayed and hurt. Why does his life need to be like this? He stared at the blank ceiling.

“No, I refuse to talk to him anymore.” John thought.

 

7.

2002, Albuquerque, New Mexico

John was invited to a meeting with the medium. He was hesitant to go. But with all the tapping that he is hearing, he decided to go.

He went with Ben, another physician in his office. Ben was going through his own challenges in life. Ben calls it “Midlife Burnout.” They are about the same age.

They arrived at the hotel about 15 minutes before the start of the program. Interestingly, the hotel is shaped like a pyramid. “A meeting with a medium inside the pyramid!” John thought about that when they were at the lobby. The ballroom was a typical one. It was bare. Just a stage and chairs in front. “Well,” John thought, “What’s important is the presentation and not the venue.”

There were about 400 guests that night. John and Ben decided to sit at the very last row. That’s a habit that they picked up when attending conferences. If the talk is too boring, they can sneak out. Also, since they called from the answering service from time to time, it is easier to go to the lobby and answer the call.

John was wearing his new red shirt. It was a bargain. He picked that up from Kohl’s for $4. He also put on a checkered red tie with black squares and Viagra pills, a gift from the pharmaceutical company during the days when they can still give out gifts.

John kept on thinking about his fight with his thoughts. He was angry. He is not happy with his life. First, his struggles with his father. Then with his wife. He felt lost, totally lost. He was still in his thoughts when the host of the show welcome the guest.

“Good evening Ladies and Gentleman, let’s welcome Mr. Joe Whittaker!”

They all applauded. Mr. Whittaker jumped up the stage. Yes, he literally jumped up there. This guy is full of energy. It is John’s first time to a gathering like this. People were sitting eagerly to hear and see. Joe took the microphone and told a joke. The crowd laughed and relaxed. He walks around the stage. He seems to be trying to sense something from the audience.

“I see golf.” Joe said. “Any golfer here?”

John had his arms crossed. Yes, he plays golf but there must be many golfers in this room.

He saw Joe leaving the stage and walking towards him.

Joe stopped. He said, “Does China makes sense?”

Now this caught Joe’s attention. Golf and China. He uncrossed his arms and sat up straight.

“I see a beautiful couple. Young and energetic. The young man wears a flat cap. The young Chinese lady wears two ponytails. Do you understand?” After Joe said this, he looked at John.

John does not know what to do or think. Golf, China, flat cap and ponytail. His mind flashed back to the day he sat next to Mr. McDowell. The day he stood up and walked out. He felt his anger again. Fury. It is the same angry that allowed him to make up his mind and leave his wife.

John nodded. “My father and mother met in Xiamen, China in 1959.”

“The gentleman is pointing to his chest. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I got it. My father died from lung cancer.” John replied.

“He wants you to know that he is sorry. He is sorry to leave you in China. He was young. He was scared. He does not know what to do with a new born baby.” Joe rattled all those out.

John felt his anger rising to his face. He felt stuck to where he is. People are watching him. There he is, in the middle of this group of unknown people, in front of this stranger who knows something about his past. His feels his tears pooling in his eyes.

“Let it go. Go ahead and cry.” He heard a voice.

John bend over, covered his face with both hands. The tears are now pouring. The mixture of feelings rushed through his mind. ANGER, GUILT, LOVE, FORGIVENESS…

Why do similar issues recur? Why? Why do I have to deal with these emotions again? First from feeling abandoned by his parents, then after 13 years of marriage, he has to feel these emotions again.

“Crying is our way of opening the dam so that we do not break the dam.” A thought came to his mind.

He looked up. He stood up.

John asked Joe, “Can he hear?”

Joe said, “Yes he can. Go ahead and talk to him.”

“Dad, I am also sorry that I walked out on you. It was too much for me to handle. That day in San Francisco, I was tired. I was getting ready for my new job. I was surprised to know that you are in hospice. You did not tell me that before. I am sorry that I did not go to your funeral.” John stopped. Tears kept coming. Ben handed him a tissue. After he clean up, he said, “Thank you for this closure. Thank you for coming tonight. Thank you for a chance for me to say sorry.”

John sat down. He did not remember much about the rest of the evening.

When John got home that night. He called his wife. John has learned forgiveness. The meeting with his father opened his heart and mind. He wants a new beginning. He wants to communicate with his wife now and not through a medium later.