I still remember the first time when I met Mom & Dad.
One year, Professor V brought his parents to visit our lab. All of us students respectfully shook their hands and introduced ourselves. That night, my friend and I went to attend Yo-Yo Ma’s concert, and I was surprised to spot Professor V’s Dad during intermission. He didn’t see me, and kept walking away from me. I didn’t feel like chasing him down because I was shy and introverted then. And also, because Professor V was quite intimidating to me at the time. But my friend encouraged me to say hi, so I gathered the courage and walked behind him while quietly calling out “Mr. Stewart!”. Unfortunately, the concert hall was crowded and noisy, so he couldn’t hear me. I saw that the suspender he was wearing that day formed an X shape on his back, and suddenly had a naughty idea to grab his suspender from behind to stop him. But of course I knew it would be extremely impolite to do that. Finally, I tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He swung around to face me, and I introduced myself that we met in the morning in Professor V’s lab. Mr. Stewart smiled, extended his hand and said, “Oh, you are here to listen to Yo-Yo Ma too!”
There are thousands and thousands of moments in life, many of them disappeared from memories immediately, like river flowing downstream, never to come back. Yet the memory of me chasing after Mr. Stewart and debating whether to grab the back of his suspender has survived the passage of time. After more than thirty years, I still remember that moment.
A few years later, V called his parents in the autumn to inform them that he had a girlfriend. His Dad heard of my name, and he immediately remembered our encounter in Yo-Yo Ma’s concert. He always said that seeing me in that concert was the first time we met.
Recently V is tracing back his family history through genealogy studies, and he discovered that most of his ancestors were from Scotland or Germany. But now I have brought a different ethnic race to their family.
Even though I was brought up in a different culture, Mom and Dad never wanted to change my beliefs.
As soon as they learned about me, V’s Mom invited me to come spend the Christmas with them. They first asked their son about my religion, and whether they needed to make any modification of their holiday tradition. They had not gone to the church for a long time, and I don’t have any religious belief, so there was no conflict there. However, V told them that I was afraid of dogs. I was scared of a barking dog when I watered plants in the greenhouse while I studied in the university. The homeless dogs on the street in Taiwan those days also made me wary of them. For Americans, dogs are like family, and the three dogs V’s parents had were very tame and well-behaved. But for my sense of security, they decided to keep the dogs in the backyard on the day I arrived. Those poor dogs! They probably had never been purposely kept outdoor before. But they had to tough it out for me!
After I arrived, I immediately went to the backyard to “meet” the dogs. They didn’t appear threatening to me, only lazily came over to sniff me. They also didn’t refuse when I bent down to timidly touch them. I quickly let them come inside. It would not be nice to keep them out because of an outsider.
Below are some pictures from the 1993 winter when I first visited V’s parents during Christmas:
（V’s parents took me to visit the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center in Albuquerque.）
(I was with Missy, my favorite. Our dog Benny ended up to be similar in size.)
(This big dog was Sirech. V’s sister P found him on the street when he was a puppy and brought him home to her parents. While Sirech is big in size, he was a gentle and timid dog. V’s Mom felt safe when she answered the door with this big dog next to her, because the strangers at the door wouldn’t think of about messing with her.)
(V and his Mom)
It took me a long time to realize that most American women changed their last name to their husband’s after getting married. When I was getting married with V, I explained to him that in the old days, some Taiwanese women added their husband’s last name ahead of their own last name. But this practice was obsolete. Taiwanese women now don’t change their last names when they get married. Also, I have an Asian face, and I would feel very strange to have a Western last name. V not only supported my decision, but he also added his own reason. Since I already published several research papers with my name, he didn’t want me to lose that identify. I felt very moved, knowing that he treated my accomplishment as his own.
V and I decided together that I wouldn’t change my last name. I didn’t understand how ubiquitous this tradition was at the time, so I didn’t bring it up to discuss with his parents. I don’t know whether it bothered them. After all, every woman in V’s family, including my mother-in-law, changed their name after getting married. But Dad showed his support by writing “Dr. Janine Lin” on the envelope whenever he sent me cards or letters. Not only he respected my last name, he wrote “Dr.” to recognize my Ph.D. degree. In my field, many people have Ph.D. degrees, so it’s not so special. But Dad used his action to show me how much he was proud of me.
(Dad giving a speech while Mom looking on during V and my wedding in 1995. He said that he didn’t think he would see this day – V was 40 years old when he got married.)
Even though I didn’t change my last name, there was a Taiwanese tradition that I gladly abide. In Taiwan, married couple would call their parents-in-law mom and dad. But in US, my understanding is that some people felt “Mom” and “Dad” can only be used for their original parents. Therefore, it’s not uncommon that people call their parents-in-law by their names. Sometimes they found a different way to call their in-laws intimately. For example, my mother-in-law invented “Mammy” and “Pappy” for her kids to call her parents-in-law, and that’s how she called them too. As for me, I immediately called them Mom and Dad as soon as V and I were married. Not only I called them in such an intimate way, I also felt very close to them.
Because I live far away, I couldn’t visit my parents frequently. All I can do is to call them weekly to chat. I wanted to treat my parents-in-law similarly, so I called them biweekly. Back when Mom was still healthy, it would be her who picked up the phone. I would tell her about my job or any recent social events, and of course any interesting things that happened to her beloved son and granddaughter. Mom used to say she knew more about her son’s life after he got married. After all, V wasn’t the chattiest type when it came to talking with his parents.
Mom was a first-rated cook and she was great at crafting. For example, she knitted all of our Christmas stockings, with our name and birth year stitched on them. They are special and irreplaceable. Unfortunately, my hands are very clumsy so I couldn’t pick up her crafting skills. However, I learned how to cook many types of American dishes, e.g. roasted turkey for Thanksgiving, sweet cream corn, roasted yam, beef stroganoff, sausage rigatoni, by learning from Mom. I usually took notes while Mom described the recipe through phone. If I had questions while I tried to cook these dishes, I could always call her to get immediate answers. The dishes always turned out delicious because Mom was an excellent teacher.
(The stocking our daughter was holding was hers, to the left was V's (his stocking was made when he was born, therefore it looked much worn), and to the right was mine. This picture was taken in 2005 and it was posted in my previous blog article “Remembering Mom”. Mom and Dad's stockings were unfortunately lost during a fire in their garage. Fortunately, their daughter K who, like Mom, is also good at knitting made those two stockings on the left for them. )
Mom used to cook the Christmas dinners. I would assist her by washing vegetable or putting things away while she cooked. As she started to lose her stamina, I volunteered to cook Christmas dinners, but Mom would still give me instructions while I cooked. By the time Mom’s health declined significantly, my cooking skills were good enough to cook the Prime Rib and other side dishes to continue Christmas family traditions. It all thanks to Mom who taught me how to do it.
(Mom and Dad visited us in Ithaca during Thanksgiving in 1996. It was also during this trip that Mom taught me how to roast turkey for Thanksgiving.)
(We enjoyed Mom's cooking during Christmas, 2004)
(I was roasting prime rib in Mom’s kitchen in 2014 Christmas)
(2016 Christmas)
(I took the picture during Christmas dinner in 2013)
Besides Christmas dinner, Mom also used to bake lots of cookies, snacks, and cakes before holidays. She would start more than a month before Christmas, and put most of the goodies in the freezer when they were done. Once we showed up, she already thawed them so we could enjoy. After Mom’s health started to deteriorate, my sister-in-law D took up the responsibility and made many delicious baked goods to greet us in each holiday.
These days V would dig out Mom’s recipe and bake cookies and cakes in December. He would then mail them to his sisters so they can also enjoy “Mom’s taste”. We used to enjoy family gathering with mom’s delicious dishes, and now we will continue the family tradition and let the familiar taste of Mom’s dishes connect us together during the holiday.
(December 2023: V making the apple cake, using Mom’s recipe)
(December 2023: V pouring butter to make “Nuts & Bolts”)
My relationship with Dad was more casual.
I am a passionate sports fan, and I like to watch professional baseball, football, basketball, and even golf. I also liked to pick out favorite players (such as pitcher Greg Maddux or golfer Phil Mickelson) to cheer for. Dad used to tease me by saying how dorky some of my favorite players looked. Dad and Mom used to live near Washington DC due to his job, so they were die-hard fans of the Washington Redskins (now renamed as Commanders). There is an interesting tradition for the Redskins: whenever Redskins scores, the band would play the song “Hail to the Redskins”. The lyric is: “Hail to the Redskins, Hail vic-to-ry. Braves on the warpath, Fight for old DC!”. I learned how to sing this song soon after I joined the family. Whenever Redskins won the game, V and I would call Dad right after the game and sang this song. Because of the timing, Dad knew the phone call must have been from us, so he would pick up the phone right away, and laughed loudly while he listened to us. If we showed our love to Mom with foods, we expressed our love to Dad through sports.
(Mom and Dad used to hang the big banner to root for Redskins during Sunday games after they moved to Albuquerque. V's sister K painted this big banner on paper for her parents.)
(Dad was wearing his Redskins jacket in December 2013)
After Mom passed, my phone conversations were received by Dad. The stereotype is that men are not as talkative. But Dad was like his father, being very friendly, and he could quickly strike up conversations with total strangers. However, when he was on the phone with me, he mostly listened. After all, I had more news to report from our small family. I usually ended up laughing a lot, and I could hear his laughter through the phone line too. He liked to say, “You always sound so happy on the phone. How nice!” The truth is, there would always be frustrating things in life. But whenever I was on the phone with Dad, only fun and happy things came in mind.
I think that the most precious gifts often derived from trivial encounters. For example, those moments when I picked up the phone without hesitation to talk to Mom or Dad. Even though what we talked about was so ordinary, those tiny moments strung together our dear and strong relationship. Even though both Mom and Dad are long gone, I still smile when I think back to those phone conversations.
But not all conversations were light-hearted.
I was talking with Dad one day in 2010 when my dearest aunt (my mom’s best friend since childhood) just passed away. I sat on the swing chair in the backyard, rocking back and forth, feeling subdued as we talked. I told him about my aunt’s illness and how she passed away. My aunt and I had expressed our love towards each other, so there was no regret. But even though I understood death was inevitable, I still could not shake the sadness I felt.
Dad understood how I felt, but he also said that this is the way it is. He said that one could only hope that when the inevitable moment arrived, they could depart in peace. He quietly told me how his father died. By that time, his Dad was already very ill. Dad took his family to see him one day. As they were leaving, his father wished them to live their lives well. That same night he passed away. Dad described it as if it was the best possible ending for his father. He said, “When I die, I also want to leave quietly. I don’t want to be disturbed by family.” I told him that in my culture, it’s considered lucky when they die while being surrounded by close family members. Sometimes doctors would extend the patient’s vital signs so that children far away can rush home in time to say goodbye. Dad said, “Why would that be a good thing? With all the crying from the family, it would only make me sad and hesitate to leave.” He paused a little bit, then said, “Don’t you think death is a very private thing?”
I always remember how calm he was when he talked about death that day. Being the son of an undertaker, he had seen what life was like, both at the beginning and at the end. He used his wisdom to teach me how to face the final goodbye.
More than ten years had passed since our conversation. Now is the time to take him and Mom home.
(To be continued)
Extended reading:
· 2010: Remembering Mom
· 2024: Returning Home (Part I: Salida)
留言列表
