The picture wouldn't be complete without a few words about our mother, such a central figure in our family. We were very fortunate that our father's mother was so savvy with matchmaking. When she heard that our mother was going to the University of Chicago, she gave our mother a package to hand deliver to my father, who was single and already at the university; this ruse worked. Even though our father was three hours late for their first date (because he was absorbed in a lab experiment), our mother fortunately still gave him a chance. Perhaps it was the three apples he brought to her when she had a cold that won her over. Later when he had saved some extra money, he asked her if she preferred a car or a phonograph/radio player. A lover of classical music and opera, she opted for the later; this played music for years the house and still sits in their home. They married in 1960 at the Theological Seminary on 58th Street and University after she received her Masters Degree in Theology.
Although our mother is not as publicly lauded as our father is, her accomplishments are no less impressive; she would refute this. She raised us four girls, feeding and clothing us (literally sewing dresses, overalls, and shirts, and crocheting ponchos), playing with us and disciplining us (although the discipline decreased exponentially with each daughter). When we were still quite young, she decided to start working. She taught Japanese in our home and did translation for the Chinese Students Association. And then, on her own, with no formal training, she started her own freelance Japanese interpreting business. She worked for a diverse spread of companies: McDonald's Hamburger University, Boeing, USPS, Alzheimer associations, automobile companies, farms, consulting firms, to name a few. She traveled for work to Japan, all over the the United States, Europe, and Mexico. She additionally served as impromptu host and guide to these groups of high level Japanese businessmen, teaching them the histories of the towns they visited or lecturing about different aspects of US history. She would thoroughly research each company, becoming proficient in the concepts and terms used in each specialty, such as jet engine building or pig farming, so that her simultaneous translation became seamless. One perk that we enjoyed was that she often took jobs in New York where Tzufen, Tzuming and I lived at various times, so we could meet at her hotel and enjoy a few dinners together. She became well sought after as an interpreter; it was no surprise that many companies lamented when she retired 20 some years later.
Even with such an active work life, I cannot remember one moment to this day that my mother has not had time for her daughters, to drive us somewhere, to send a package (care packages from her of specialty Asian treats were the envy of all our friends), to answer a financial questions (one of her fortes), to simply chat or to mend a jacket. I can honestly say that I have never heard her say the words, "Can I call you back later?" or "No, I'm too busy to do that for you." Similarly she supported our father in his endeavors, hosting many Taiwan events in our home and caring for us girls when he was at work or out of town.
One thing I did hear our mother say was, "Just do something." (usually in response to a young adult whine, "I'm bored"). This statement characterizes her perfectly. She has always taken on whatever was before her and created situations to make her life fulfilling. She never relies on others or external circumstances to enjoy her life or to be happy. She has always been open to new ideas, willing to try things out whether it was traveling to a new place, yoga, a new type of food, or some new technology.
Our mom embodies lots of seemingly contradictory characteristics. Always independent, she doesn't feel the need to seek out company, yet she is vivacious and social in a group; her cheerful laughter can fill a room. She rarely lingers in a state of doubt and is very outspoken, but doesn't have arrogance. She is completely giving of her time and energy to all of us, but never a martyr. She loves unconditionally without ever being overly attached. She somehow manages to be tremendously easy-going and, simultaneously, extremely strong-minded. She is small and adorable, but fierce and strong.
And we love her for that.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
For Dad
I owe my dad my life at least twice more beyond conceiving me. When I was 6, an age embarrassingly old enough to know better, I flipped a marble straight into the back of my throat with my tongue. I remember the air suddenly cutting off, being unable to speak and Tzufen calling to him to come from the living room because there was "something wrong with May." He dislodged the marble just as I was turning blue, without excess drama and without repercussions, because that was his calm way, at least from my childhood eyes. The second time was when, again despite knowing better, I was smoking a pack-a-day in my late twenties. In a phone conversation, he revealed that as he was researching cancer in his lab, he would be saddened by the thought that I might contract cancer late in life when he was no longer around to help. That heartfelt statement inspired me to quit on Father's Day just a few weeks later. So I thank him for giving me the chance to breathe as a child and as an adult in more ways than one.
Like most parents, our father did have ideas about what direction of study might afford us the best future. He nudged us towards the sciences, which is what he knew best, but this nudge was overshadowed by the huge amount of flexibility and support we received to explore other options, especially relative to most Asian parents. His work at the University of Chicago afforded us to attend the University of Chicago Laboratory Schools from nursery school through high school. This unique school, founded on the principles of philosopher and education reformer John Dewey, emphasized a progressive democratic atmosphere of learning via experience; it complemented what we were immersed in at home. Surrounded by our grandfather's paintings, crafts, arts and play were always a big part of our home life. Perhaps also influenced by his father, our father often spoke of science and art as overlapping in the realm of creativity. Thus he always had encouragement for any artistic endeavor. This type of support from our parents continued as we made our way through our adult lives, schooling, careers and family building.
When we were very young, we were not completely aware of the details of our father's professional and political activities. We knew he was very dedicated both to his work and the Taiwanese cause. We visited his lab, played with molecule models, pet the rats, and drew on his chalkboard. His Taiwan activities were associated with picnic gatherings at the lakefront park called the Point, events at the International House at the University of Chicago or making placards in our basement for protest demonstrations. For banquets, he would mass produce aluminum trays of cellophane noodles or hundreds of Ba Tsang; the twine tied triangular rice packages wrapped in bamboo leaves hung from every spot in the kitchen. On New Year's Eve my parents would host a party for the Taiwanese students and professors. More than likely politics were discussed, but I remember it as a time of fun, games, good food and late nights, simultaneously ringing in his birthday and the new year.
We do remember when he returned to Taiwan in 1983 (?) to oversee the elections. This was shortly after Aquino was assassinated in the Philippines. Our father devised codes to say over the telephone if he were in trouble or being harmed; he planned to mention a watch being broken if he was being watched, a clock for a more serious problem, ask about the dog (that we didn't own) to alert us. Thankfully we never had to use these. Although this clearly showed the seriousness of his endeavor, even as teenagers, the gravity of what was happening didn't really register. It wasn't until later in life that we truly understood the risks that he took to speak out for his beloved country.
Despite our father's great involvement with Taiwan politics, as children we were not that integrated into the Taiwanese community. Because of the social climate in the 1960's and 70's, assimilation into American culture seemed to be advantageous and preferable. We were allowed to immerse ourselves in the English speaking Chicago environment that we lived in. As a result, my sisters and I don't speak Taiwanese (although Jane can understand some) and were otherwise very "Americanized". At the same time, however, we did have a very strong Taiwanese identity. Even as children, we would emphatically tell people we were Taiwanese. We continue to correct and educate those we encounter who believe Taiwan is the same as China. Hopefully many around us (friends, co-workers, extended family) are now more aware of the history and politics surrounding Taiwan and China as this is not adequately represented in the mainstream media.
There is a sense of pride having our dad as a father, partially from his professional success and political significance. Especially as we reach older adulthood, we marvel upon what he has accomplished in his lifetime. But, much of our respect for him comes from an innate knowledge that he fundamentally lives authentically, ethically and with love: for his work, for Taiwan and for his family. Whatever importance his external successes might have played in our lives, the family memories and simply being influenced by his philosophies of living are what make having him as a father special.
Our father's dedication to Taiwan often had him on the phone during dinner time. His dedication to his work had him working late hours and weekends. He would sometimes even work a few hours on Christmas, but it didn't get in the way of him spending the time to hide our gifts around the house as we slept on Christmas Eve, leaving lists of cryptic clues by our bedside for a morning treasure hunt. Several times a year, he would set up the projector for a cozy night of Mighty Mouse and home movies, flipping it in reverse at just the right moment to send us laughing at scenes of Jane flying a kite backwards or Tzufen swimming backwards at Paw Paw Lake. We loved looking at photos of our father carrying a two year old Tzufen in every scene, because she refused to let anyone else hold her. In an early lesson in divergent thinking, a large floppy purple mouse became seven year old Tzuming's most loved toy (over a conventional large teddy bear) after watching our dad play with it so interestingly. On hot summer nights, he would spread newspaper on the floor, cut a watermelon in half and arm us four girls with spoons to dig in. Other nights, he would open a large frozen can of Hawaiian Punch or make thick chocolate milkshakes in the glass blender that we still use 40 years later to grind peanuts and sugar for the mouth watering lumpia dinners my mom still makes when we all come home. On trips to Sears, he'd buy us cherry slushies to sip while we watched him discerningly looking at appliances or tires. Occasionally, we'd pile in the Chevy station wagon with sleeping bags and he'd take us to the drive-in movies to see Sinbad or Orca the Killer Whale. In winter, he would flood the backyard for a makeshift ice skating rink. Summer trips were spent appreciating some aspect of nature: Niagara Falls, the Mammoth Caves in Kentucky, the Wisconsin Dells, or simply camping, hiking or fishing on a lake in Michigan. Whenever he went on business trips, he would always come back with little gifts, squeaky toys, international dolls, fossil clocks, cute tiny clay animals, or sculpted garlic and peanuts; each item had some unusual creative aspect and was carefully selected for us individually.
One influential characteristic that comes to mind with our father is his frugality. His frugality isn't in the sense of simply saving money, but rather one that is laced with ingenuity and efficiency in all that he does, that ultimately leads to high productivity. In essence, he is never wasteful, not with words, thoughts, time or creativity, nor with objects. In his day to day life, his frugality expresses a pure enjoyment of the challenge of economizing and an ability to see how to practically reuse objects. Cereal boxes were cut to make cat litter scoops; $0.25 ramen noodles were eaten for lunch everyday; new clothes for himself are rarely bought; furniture carefully selected in 70's for their timeless look and durability still adorn his living room; Fed Ex envelopes double as briefcases. Once, co-workers gave him a fancy Coach brand leather briefcase. He appreciated the gesture, looked it over carefully, but laughed saying, "What am I to do with this?" and left for work the next morning with his Fed Ex envelope. All of these behaviors so refreshingly countered the materialistic world around us. But the very skillful aspect of his frugality was that it didn't come from a concerted effort nor from a denial of desires; it was the opposite of of austere restriction. We never grew up wanting and always had a sense of abundance. His perspective of maximizing output even applied to his brain. He would sometimes speak about how when he was doing science, he was resting his brain from politics and vice versa. Thus in a sense, his brain was always at rest and rejuvenated. The concepts of reuse and recycling, to take only what is needed with joy and simplicity, to discover abundance with inventive thinking is so relevant in today's society of dwindling resources. To also extend these concepts to how we approach life, work and thought is something I feel fortunate to have learned by example from our parents.
A man of few words at the dinner table, perhaps overpowered by the chatter of four daughters (all with the strong will inherited from our mother), our father taught us more via his life's day to day example rather than through lectures or intimate talks. We observe his dedicated work ethic, quiet focus, inventive practicality, dedication to social causes, steady responsibility without complaint, sense of contentment, ease of meeting challenges and facing them with clarity and enjoyment, not clouded by excessive emotions. Although we may not manifest these qualities in the same way as he does, when I look at my sisters and myself, we decidedly have some very common "Liao" characteristics. We have his meticulousness and practicality; we try to live principled lives combined with creative "divergent" ways of thinking. His essence is expressed through us, whether it comes out in raising children, designing a city park, dancing Tango or devising an acupuncture treatment. He would often talk metaphorically about how life experiences were like a bricks that one built their house/lifetime with. With the strong foundation our parents laid for us, we have had the opportunities to pick up many different bricks to construct our own unique houses with.
Chia kuei chi pai chiu tao.
Like most parents, our father did have ideas about what direction of study might afford us the best future. He nudged us towards the sciences, which is what he knew best, but this nudge was overshadowed by the huge amount of flexibility and support we received to explore other options, especially relative to most Asian parents. His work at the University of Chicago afforded us to attend the University of Chicago Laboratory Schools from nursery school through high school. This unique school, founded on the principles of philosopher and education reformer John Dewey, emphasized a progressive democratic atmosphere of learning via experience; it complemented what we were immersed in at home. Surrounded by our grandfather's paintings, crafts, arts and play were always a big part of our home life. Perhaps also influenced by his father, our father often spoke of science and art as overlapping in the realm of creativity. Thus he always had encouragement for any artistic endeavor. This type of support from our parents continued as we made our way through our adult lives, schooling, careers and family building.
When we were very young, we were not completely aware of the details of our father's professional and political activities. We knew he was very dedicated both to his work and the Taiwanese cause. We visited his lab, played with molecule models, pet the rats, and drew on his chalkboard. His Taiwan activities were associated with picnic gatherings at the lakefront park called the Point, events at the International House at the University of Chicago or making placards in our basement for protest demonstrations. For banquets, he would mass produce aluminum trays of cellophane noodles or hundreds of Ba Tsang; the twine tied triangular rice packages wrapped in bamboo leaves hung from every spot in the kitchen. On New Year's Eve my parents would host a party for the Taiwanese students and professors. More than likely politics were discussed, but I remember it as a time of fun, games, good food and late nights, simultaneously ringing in his birthday and the new year.
We do remember when he returned to Taiwan in 1983 (?) to oversee the elections. This was shortly after Aquino was assassinated in the Philippines. Our father devised codes to say over the telephone if he were in trouble or being harmed; he planned to mention a watch being broken if he was being watched, a clock for a more serious problem, ask about the dog (that we didn't own) to alert us. Thankfully we never had to use these. Although this clearly showed the seriousness of his endeavor, even as teenagers, the gravity of what was happening didn't really register. It wasn't until later in life that we truly understood the risks that he took to speak out for his beloved country.
Despite our father's great involvement with Taiwan politics, as children we were not that integrated into the Taiwanese community. Because of the social climate in the 1960's and 70's, assimilation into American culture seemed to be advantageous and preferable. We were allowed to immerse ourselves in the English speaking Chicago environment that we lived in. As a result, my sisters and I don't speak Taiwanese (although Jane can understand some) and were otherwise very "Americanized". At the same time, however, we did have a very strong Taiwanese identity. Even as children, we would emphatically tell people we were Taiwanese. We continue to correct and educate those we encounter who believe Taiwan is the same as China. Hopefully many around us (friends, co-workers, extended family) are now more aware of the history and politics surrounding Taiwan and China as this is not adequately represented in the mainstream media.
There is a sense of pride having our dad as a father, partially from his professional success and political significance. Especially as we reach older adulthood, we marvel upon what he has accomplished in his lifetime. But, much of our respect for him comes from an innate knowledge that he fundamentally lives authentically, ethically and with love: for his work, for Taiwan and for his family. Whatever importance his external successes might have played in our lives, the family memories and simply being influenced by his philosophies of living are what make having him as a father special.
Our father's dedication to Taiwan often had him on the phone during dinner time. His dedication to his work had him working late hours and weekends. He would sometimes even work a few hours on Christmas, but it didn't get in the way of him spending the time to hide our gifts around the house as we slept on Christmas Eve, leaving lists of cryptic clues by our bedside for a morning treasure hunt. Several times a year, he would set up the projector for a cozy night of Mighty Mouse and home movies, flipping it in reverse at just the right moment to send us laughing at scenes of Jane flying a kite backwards or Tzufen swimming backwards at Paw Paw Lake. We loved looking at photos of our father carrying a two year old Tzufen in every scene, because she refused to let anyone else hold her. In an early lesson in divergent thinking, a large floppy purple mouse became seven year old Tzuming's most loved toy (over a conventional large teddy bear) after watching our dad play with it so interestingly. On hot summer nights, he would spread newspaper on the floor, cut a watermelon in half and arm us four girls with spoons to dig in. Other nights, he would open a large frozen can of Hawaiian Punch or make thick chocolate milkshakes in the glass blender that we still use 40 years later to grind peanuts and sugar for the mouth watering lumpia dinners my mom still makes when we all come home. On trips to Sears, he'd buy us cherry slushies to sip while we watched him discerningly looking at appliances or tires. Occasionally, we'd pile in the Chevy station wagon with sleeping bags and he'd take us to the drive-in movies to see Sinbad or Orca the Killer Whale. In winter, he would flood the backyard for a makeshift ice skating rink. Summer trips were spent appreciating some aspect of nature: Niagara Falls, the Mammoth Caves in Kentucky, the Wisconsin Dells, or simply camping, hiking or fishing on a lake in Michigan. Whenever he went on business trips, he would always come back with little gifts, squeaky toys, international dolls, fossil clocks, cute tiny clay animals, or sculpted garlic and peanuts; each item had some unusual creative aspect and was carefully selected for us individually.
One influential characteristic that comes to mind with our father is his frugality. His frugality isn't in the sense of simply saving money, but rather one that is laced with ingenuity and efficiency in all that he does, that ultimately leads to high productivity. In essence, he is never wasteful, not with words, thoughts, time or creativity, nor with objects. In his day to day life, his frugality expresses a pure enjoyment of the challenge of economizing and an ability to see how to practically reuse objects. Cereal boxes were cut to make cat litter scoops; $0.25 ramen noodles were eaten for lunch everyday; new clothes for himself are rarely bought; furniture carefully selected in 70's for their timeless look and durability still adorn his living room; Fed Ex envelopes double as briefcases. Once, co-workers gave him a fancy Coach brand leather briefcase. He appreciated the gesture, looked it over carefully, but laughed saying, "What am I to do with this?" and left for work the next morning with his Fed Ex envelope. All of these behaviors so refreshingly countered the materialistic world around us. But the very skillful aspect of his frugality was that it didn't come from a concerted effort nor from a denial of desires; it was the opposite of of austere restriction. We never grew up wanting and always had a sense of abundance. His perspective of maximizing output even applied to his brain. He would sometimes speak about how when he was doing science, he was resting his brain from politics and vice versa. Thus in a sense, his brain was always at rest and rejuvenated. The concepts of reuse and recycling, to take only what is needed with joy and simplicity, to discover abundance with inventive thinking is so relevant in today's society of dwindling resources. To also extend these concepts to how we approach life, work and thought is something I feel fortunate to have learned by example from our parents.
A man of few words at the dinner table, perhaps overpowered by the chatter of four daughters (all with the strong will inherited from our mother), our father taught us more via his life's day to day example rather than through lectures or intimate talks. We observe his dedicated work ethic, quiet focus, inventive practicality, dedication to social causes, steady responsibility without complaint, sense of contentment, ease of meeting challenges and facing them with clarity and enjoyment, not clouded by excessive emotions. Although we may not manifest these qualities in the same way as he does, when I look at my sisters and myself, we decidedly have some very common "Liao" characteristics. We have his meticulousness and practicality; we try to live principled lives combined with creative "divergent" ways of thinking. His essence is expressed through us, whether it comes out in raising children, designing a city park, dancing Tango or devising an acupuncture treatment. He would often talk metaphorically about how life experiences were like a bricks that one built their house/lifetime with. With the strong foundation our parents laid for us, we have had the opportunities to pick up many different bricks to construct our own unique houses with.
Chia kuei chi pai chiu tao.
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