I DIDN’T LEAVE YOUR MOTHER
This is a difficult section of Love Imagined to write because I have to imagine a father I don’t know. I was five when my mom and dad divorced. Dad would drive down the alley once a week, honk the car horn, and wait for one of the five of us to come out and get our child support! Other than that, I maybe saw my father a half dozen times, my children met him twice.
Fortunately, I have a copy of my father’s handwritten journal and some photographs. What stories can I conjure from the few things I possess that are of my father? Who do I imagine him to be? And how does who I imagine him to be affect my life? I know this much:
My father had many names. His obituary reads William (Theun) Wing, age 85, born March 3, 1909 in Canton, China.
His senior class year book, which contains art work of “pan” playing for “satyrs”, has his last name as “Quon, Bill.” At Santa Ana High School he played football, baseball, wrestling, and track. Friday, November 13, 1931 the Sanat Ana High School Generator states: “After three years of searching, Coach (Abalone) Patton has found a head gear that will fit Billy Quon.”
In my father’s words:
MY FIRST TEN YEARS OF MY LIFE WAS SPEND IN CHINA IN THE VILLAGE OF HAI PING. I WAS TOO YOUNG TO REMEMBER TOO MUCH. THE VILLAGE WAS CONSIST OF ROW OF HOUSE—EIGHT TO TEN IN A ROW RUN NORTH TO SOUTH. THERE WERE ABOUT TEN ROW. AT THE HEAD OF THE VILLAGE WAS A SCHOOL HOUSE. MY GRANDFATHER WAS THE PROFESSOR. NEXT TO THE SCHOOL HOUSE WAS A BIG STATUE OF A LION TO WATCH THE VILLAGE. ALONG THE ROW OF HOUSE WAS THE DRAIN THAT RUN INTO POND. I REMEMBER ONE DAY IT RAIN SO HEAVY YOU COULD SEE FISHES SWIMMING AT YOUR DOOR STEP. NOT FAR FROM THE VILLAGE WAS THE TOWN OF CHICK HOM WHICH WE GO ONCE A WEEK TO BUY FRESH MEAT. IT WAS SLAUGHTER IN FRONT OF YOUR EYE. MY GRANDFATHER OWN LOT OF LAND. EVERY SON HAS A PLAT OF LAND FOR RAISING VEGETABLE, ETC. I REMEMBER ONE TIME I WAS AT A POTATOES FARM. I SAW THERE WAS A BIG HOLE IN ONE ROW. I REACH IN AND PULL OUT A HANDFUL OF RATS. I ALSO REMEMBER MY MOTHER AND I WERE WALKING THE POND AND I FELL INTO THE POND, MY MOTHER GRIP ME BY THE HAIR AND PULL ME OUT. ONE LATE NITE WE SAW A GANG OF BANDIT RAIDING THE NEXT VILLAGE. IT WAS SCARY.
MY FATHER PASSED AWAY WHEN I WAS SEVEN. WHEN MY UNCLE WAS HOME FROM UNITED STATES TO VISIT HIS FAMILY THEY DECIDED TO HAVE ME JOIN HIM WHEN HE RETURN TO THE STATE, I BEING THE OLDEST WAS THE HEAD OF FAMILY HAVE TO MAKE MONEY TO SUPORT THE FAMILY. I WAS ONLY TEN AT THE TIME. WHEN WE LEFT FOR U.SA. I LEFT MY MOTHER AND YOUNGER BROTHER AND SISTER. NEVER TO SEE THEM AGAIN. THE TRIP FROM THE VILLAGE TO HONG KWONG—WAS ONE DAY. WHERE WE BOARD THE STEAM SHIP S.S. CHINA. IT TOOK US TWO WEEKS TO REACH THE STATES BY THE WAY OF HONOLULO AND SAN FRANCISCO. WE STAY IN SAN FRANCISCO ABOUT A MONTH AND THEN WE HEADED FOR LOS ANGELES WHERE MY UNCLE HAD A JOB WAITING FOR HIM. HE WAS A COOK AND A VERY GOOD ONE. WHILE IN LOS ANGELES I STAYED AT MY RELATIVE WHO OWN A CHINESE HERB STORE. MY UNCLE’S JOB WAS AT A SMALL TOWN FROM L.A. HE WAS ALWAYS WORKING—SO I NEVER GET TO SEE HIM TOO MUCH. I WAS AT MY OWN FOR A ELEVEN YEARS BOY. I LEARN MY ENGLISH AT A SMALL MISSIONARY SCHOOL. THE ONLY TIME I HAD TROUBLE-WITH UNCLE-WAS I WENT TO A MOVIE AND STAY AND SAW THE MOVIE THREE TIMES. IT WAS A COWGIRL PICTURE.
I am not artistic or athletic like my father, and I haven’t had much stability in my life as far as home or work or relationships. But, perhaps I have the need and perseverance to have and do all the right things, even though I, like my father before me, according to a particular resource, “don’t have a pot to piss in.”
Perhaps the real discovery, the aha of making sense of my life is finally just accepting I am me, and others can accept “me” or not—I don’t, as someone recently said to me, need to wear my identity on my sleeve. Do I do that? And doesn’t this seem all to easy? It’s not.
Sherry Quan Lee
June 3, 2012
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*date on photo is likely the date the photo was reprinted
