Back in March of 2007 when I picked up the phone call from Koren in my Mount Kisco, New York apartment, I was stunned.
I heard Koren’s voice at the other end, “I’m Koren, your high school classmate. We want to see you!!! It’s been more than 30 years. We had our high-school reunion and everyone was asking about you. Nai-Chu is in the Bay Area. Come soon to Palo Alto before she goes back to Taiwan.”
High school is to Taiwanese kids as college to American kids, where true friends are made, where kids depend on other kids before being thrown out to the open pit of adulthood.
But I must admit that I was ambivalent on Koren’s call: All these friends from my Taipei First Girls’ High School classes I used to know, and now I couldn’t even remember their names; for the past 30 years, I buried my head deep in the northeastern US snow, cut off from the world outside (not to mention my Taiwanese connections); I have not kept up with even my closest friends like Nai-Chu or Yamei. What would they think of me? What would I think of them? After all, 30 years is almost a lifetime for some people.
But I could not say no to Koren. On May 17, I packed up my little bag and embarked on my journey to the West Coast. I did not know what to expect, but was determined to have a good time of it.
I spent two days with 20 of my “old” friends (friends and their relatives from the Shu class) and “new” friends (friends from other classes of the same year of Bei-nu). I had a blast. There was not a single dull moment. I was once again a happy child, traveling in time, backward and forward, picking up new gems and old stones, laughing, thinking, serious, light-hearted, endless emotional connectedness. I looked into my dear old friends, more beautiful than I had ever remembered them 20 or 30 years ago, with few graceful lines on their faces to mark the lives well lived. By now, I can’t see how we ever parted, and how I ever forgot what they looked like.
I want to thank all my friends who so selflessly embrace me, the lost one. So I pick up this rusty pen to chronicle my emotional journey in dedication to the memory of you.
Susie Li
June 13, 2007
NAI-CHU
First night, I went to Nai-Chu’s Half Moon Bay house where we had an intimate dinner party with only the few Shu
classmates including Agnes’ family, Koren, Yamei, my sister maomao. Of course, Nai-Chu’s husband/business partner/soul mate, aka Stan Lai, the famed dramatist and playwright, movie director and TV producer, was by her side all night to assist with the party.
Beautiful and thoughtful as ever, today Nai-Chu is also a gourmet cook. The banquet she put together for us was exquisite. It was nothing that you could order from a neighborhood kitchen. I counted these dishes: free-range stew chicken, Dong Po Pork, 2 vegetarian concoctions, chicken hot pot, all expertly prepared.
I stayed overnight at Nai-Chu’s beach resort. We had a long conversation the next morning. I told her how I, a naïve Asian girl, found my place in the strange America after leaving California in the 1980s with my husband Steve for Ithaca New York, having to live the life of a frontier wife. I eventually went back to Cornell to earn a statistics degree, fought against racial discrimination at work, had two children, then decided to strike out on my own in New York City. It took years to gain my confidence back. But I am fairly grateful for what I’ve got: work, passion, respect, family, friends, health. I think (and hope) I’ve found happiness.
She showed me her other side that I had not known. I had envisioned Nai-Chu to have an easy-going, pampered life in Taiwan all these years. It wasn’t always like that. For her, being the producer of a live drama troupe, the first and only one in Taiwan and China, means she is constantly juggling the money and people, making tough decisions about the present and future of the troupe, taking care of the tedious details not appreciated by the artistic folks. Being a close business partner to her creative spouse means she must balance lives and work delicately, walking a tight rope, keeping the feelings fresh. Although she didn’t disclose what her secrets were, I could see that it is her indomitable spirit, her natural charm, her Buddhist devotion and her administrative acumen.
Deep down beneath that beautiful face is a warm and caring heart that draws people toward her. There is this unique quality of Nai-Chu: she could easily be anyone’s best friend. You would feel it instantly if you are there with her.
STAN
Like wife, like husband, Stan is personable, effective and articulate, yet an odd antithesis to Nai-Chu the way I remembered her. Perhaps because I know where the couple was coming from – Nai-Chu is my best friend in high school; Stan is the younger brother of Bob, my older brother’s best friend in High
school and also a JiangXi compatriot (rare at the time in Taiwan) – I was rather mystified by the pairing of the two. The only impression I had of Stan when young was him strumming the guitar playing to the tune of Jim Croce’s “Time in a Bottle” at the Idea Coffee House in Taipei. (At the time, the New York-based Jim Croce was big, singing ballads too maudlin for my taste. Funny, 30+ years later, I have become a fan of Croce, for the lyrics of his hits speak to me, of my life, perfectly. The lyrics are melodramatic, but so is life, and I only found that out in old age…)At the time, Stan struck me as a hipster, a younger brother, a child prodigy to a sisterly Nai-Chu, who I was sure would be someday the wife of a diplomat or politician or scholar or journalist, someone from the stable society.
But in this trip I witnessed the powerful relation between a husband and wife, bonded by common interests, emotions and ambitions. It works like magic.
Stan and I had some spiritual discussions about Buddhism. I was impressed by his easygoing manner, not at all as serious as one might think:
Susie: “Buddhists’ desire to be empty of desires is a desire in itself. How do the Buddhists resolve this conundrum?” Stan and Nai-Chu: “Buddhism isn’t about getting rid of desires, but about not being controlled by desires. Some desires do lead to enjoyment. But you must remember that nothing is permanent, and do not feel sad when you lose what you desired.”
Susie: “I found American Buddhism a lot more approachable than Chinese Buddhism, and the translation of Buddhist philosophy more understandable in English as well.” Stan: “I agree. I am in the midst of translating ‘Western Pursuit of Happiness’ back into Chinese…”
Susie: “I am embarrassed to admit that the first book that inspired me to be a Buddhist is ‘Siddhartha’, the fictional biography of the Buddha written by Hermann Hesse, the Nobel poet laureate. I was haunted by the beauty and wisdom in the novel all my life.” (At the same time, I felt guilty not being touched by the “Heart Sutra” or the “Diamond Sutra”, etc.) Stan: “I made a special trip to visit Hesse’s house in Germany. He is one of my favorites.”
Susie: “Do you know who my hero is? It is the Buddha. Here he was, a human being of flesh and bone. If he could achieve enlightenment by going through all the suffering, rejection, peace and wisdom, then there is hope for the rest of us. This is powerful stuff.” Stan: “Hmm…(still thinking).”
In the end, I can’t help but remember the lyrics of Grateful Dead’s song “Ripple” – Very Buddhist in its reflective moment:
“ If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung,
Would you hear my voice come thru the music,
Would you hold it near as it were your own?
It's a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken,
Perhaps they're better left unsung.
I don't know, don't really care
Let there be songs to fill the air. ”
“ Ripple in still water,
When there is no pebble tossed,
Nor wind to blow.
Reach out your hand if your cup be empty,
If your cup is full may it be again,
Let it be known there is a fountain,
That was not made by the hands of men.
There is a road, no simple highway,
Between the dawn and the dark of night,
And if you go no one may follow,
That path is for your steps alone. ”
“ Ripple in still water,
When there is no pebble tossed,
Nor wind to blow.
You who choose to lead must follow,
But if you fall you fall alone,
If you should stand then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home. ”
Ah, life is ephemeral. You have to walk the path; only you, all alone.
KOREN
Koren is a bit of an enigma to me. Delightful, friendly, she was the thread that stitched together this loose network of middle-age girls. She looked good, but not in the way I remembered her, as most of my other friends.
The big party of the last day was held in her great house in the middle of the wealthiest district in Palo Alto. She’s done well…but then again, she came from a well-to-do family in Taiwan…who would be left to wonder if anything would have changed her, or made her life different?
I am truly thankful of her insisting that I come to California. This has turned out to be my happiest moment in a long while. Koren is an energetic, invaluable catalyst.
I didn’t spent much time with Koren back in high school. It felt like I spent more time here in her big house with her in two days than all the time we had together in high school. Somehow I sensed a glamour conflict: Her house is meticulously big, but empty; she felt incomplete even if she has bravely convinced herself that she is in the best place to be.
Not knowing what has happened to her in the past 30 years, and not wanting to probe too deeply, I see Koren as a strong woman, and by that I don’t mean that she is strong enough to admit that she feels comfortable with her loose skin or her yoga-toned body. Rather she is strong enough to know someday when she’s had enough.
YAMEI
Yamei hasn’t changed one bit since her high school, wearing the same hairdo since I last saw her in the graduation ceremony, laughing so effortlessly. I’m not exaggerating: If she were to put on her Bei-nu dark green uniform today, I would think she were “back to the past”. While we all show gentle signs of age, and some even assisted by injections and scalpels to wipe out the character from their faces, Yamei stood out as naturally as she could be (She used to be a bit of a tom-boy – it’s refreshing to see it still there.)
Her demeanor was nothing of an authority now that she has become one of the leading representatives of the Taiwanese government in Silicone Valley. I always got along great with Yamei in high school, especially when she moved into my neighborhood during my senior year. Both our parents had the roots in the Chiang Kai Shek army.
I needed very little update from Yamei to know that she was doing fabulously. She has always been a well-grounded, positive, honest person since I knew her. The fact that she has married well, has brought up two smart, outstanding (and occasionally mischievous) daughters, and has a fulfilling career came as no surprise. Her straight-lace charm not only worked well for me then, but must also work wonders with others now.
Yamei made the reunion after returning from a difficult trip to Taiwan for her mother’s funeral. (It has brought back the sad memory of my own mother’s demise 27 years ago. Ah, the frailty of life.) “Guess what I’ve found while cleaning out my mother’s place?” she pulled out something with tears still hanging in her eyes: A vivid, black-and-white, 3 x 5, picture of me and five of my middle-school girlfriends, taken by Yamei sometime in our high school years, in the yard of my house. We looked so young in that picture, fresh-faced,
hair short short and skirts even shorter, eager to be grownups in our demure lady-like poses.
For one second, I couldn’t recognize the faces in the picture, “Who are they?” “YOU!” Yamei laughed uncontrollably. My goodness - that was surely the happiest find of my trip.
GRACE
Grace picked me up from my in-laws’ place in Orinda where I stayed the first night. She was another friend who completely escaped my memory for 20 odd years until now, not to mention that we were even college classmates at Taida. Perhaps she hung out with different crowd from mine.
No matter! I quickly warmed up to her, getting to know her all over again – which was fairly easy because she has such a generous spirit and infectious laughs that you felt like having a great time yourself around her, even though she got us lost more than once on the highway to Koren’s place in Palo Alto. She was funny. She was self-deprecating. She obviously has a big heart.
I didn’t realize that she had lived in New Jersey for quite some time before moving to California in the last six or seven years. She sounded nostalgic about the East Coast, especially her family’s excursions to Queens for its famous Chinese food.
“California is wearing me down fast.” She said.
“The way you have to drive in this traffic, it doesn’t take much to wear anybody down.” I concurred.
“Working in a high tech job can be quite stressful too. You have to constantly invent, keep up.” Grace works for Oracle.
“How does retirement sound?” I asked.
“I’m not sure of full retirement. But I wouldn’t mind the life of a part-time consultant.”
Grace’s husband is also an academic like mine. No wonder we had so much to share. I can see that this friendship is a keeper.
AGNES
Agnes is someone in my Shu class I didn’t know well while in high school (because she was quiet), but grew to respect a great deal since we reconnected. A genuinely decent person, she has made a remarkable life for herself in America. All this time, nearly 30 years, she has lived in Queens, New York, not far from me (and I didn’t know.)
Agnes came to New York after college, has raised two sons mostly by herself
while her beloved husband moved East to care for his aging mother and troubled younger brother. Being a single mother was a full-time job for most people, Agnes still managed to return to St. Jones Law School for a law degree. Now she is an established immigration lawyer in New York Chinatown. Her two sons are attending top college and graduate school. In her spare time, she helped her old friends from Taiwan find jobs in her law firm. She is the caring mother, loyal wife, career lawyer, supportive friend all rolled up in one. You cannot tell her courage and achievements by her quiet, unassuming demeanor.
Her whole family showed up for the reunion. They were on their way to China for a tour, celebrating the graduation of her elder son from Columbia University. I compared her two sons to Prince Harry and Prince William of the British Royalty, both exceedingly handsome, tall and regal, except Agnes' two sons have their mother to look up to, whereas Prince Harry and Prince William are motherless. You could tell that Agnes was quitely pleased with her two sons.
She told a little story about her two sons when they were small that cracked us up:
“My older son must have been 10, and my younger son 7. My husband was away. But father and sons talked often over the phone. One night I overheard the older son passing on some secret to the younger one. I was curious and listened in without them noticing me. I heard the old one say, ‘You don’t have to understand women. You just need to love them.’
Wow, where did this little kid get the big idea from? I could understand that the boys began to be interested in girls, but the wisdom? It had to be from their dad (and what ‘women’ would the dad be referring to anyway?).”
Behind every successful woman, there is a supportive spouse. This is true to all my successful classmates. Agnes’ husband was no exception. A fun fellow, he obviously enjoyed Agnes’ associations as much as she did, so much so that he quipped, “It’s enough to live with just one 50-years-old lady. How about having 20 50-years-olds talking all at the same time? It’s like you opened the door just a crack to peep in; then this avalanche of human female voices; then you have to slam the door shut QUICK!”
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