By this point, I was affected to the point where I was having trouble speaking, and I apologized. "I'm very sorry, I hope both of you will forgive me. They were killed in an accident a few months before I went into high school, and I still miss them terribly when I'm reminded." And we all stood for a few minutes without saying anything, until I had better control of myself.
Mr. Chan asked me about my plans once I had graduated. He understood me when I said that it was hard to know at that point. I said, "I really think I might like to teach, but there are several things against that. One is that I really don't know that I would do well. I tend to overload the student with the details that an expert wants and needs to know, but which overwhelm a beginner. I actually think I'm learning to do that less. We've been doing a Bible study with a friendâI'm not a believer and she is, but she asked me to do this. Ellen also contributes, and one of her tasks is to warn me when the point is getting lost in all the details.
"But anyway, teaching history would mean more years of schooling. To teach in college, I would need grad school, and then I would face several years of non-tenured positions, never able to really settle down. And to teach at the high school level, I would need at least a year or two of education school, I think, and I'm not sure I could get through. They seem to be so bogged down in political correctness that they no longer care very much about whether you know your subject and can communicate it." Both of them nodded vigorously at that, and I wondered what was behind those nods.
I described several ways of using a history major in non-academic contexts, mostly right out of the booklet Professor Wheeler had given me and my talks with Uncle John. I also said, "My father works for the State Department, and I suspect he can put me in contact with people who can use the historical knowledge and research skills I have. I need to raise that with him when we're there."
I thought perhaps I had satisfied Mr. Chan that, if I didn't have specific plans a year and a half ahead, I had a good grasp of some of the possibilities.
We went in to dinner, and I asked about Mr. Chan's work. I knew he was a wholesale importer and exporter, primarily dealing with the Far East, but I knew almost nothing about what that would involve. I was interested and glad of the chance to learn. I could see that my questions pleased Mr. Chan, though I didn't know why. Later, Ellen told me that part of it was simply that I was interested. It seems that many people take it for granted that foreign-made products are available and just don't care about everything that involves. My passion for context and details had worked in my favor for once, it seemed. But she also said that my questions were perceptive. He could see that I didn't know, but I reasoned from what he told me, finding new questions to ask. This also seemed to me basic and natural, but maybe it's not, for some reason.
They didn't go in for a big display of Christmas decorations, but Ellen's parents did have a smallish Christmas tree in their living room. From what Ellen had told me, they made a minimal American celebration, gathering Christmas morning to open gifts, and sharing a large dinner in the afternoon. Since the holiday fell on Sunday that year, we had decided we wouldn't go to church that morning. We'd spoken to Pastor Mac, and he had said that he thought that on my first visit with Ellen's parents this was wise. We saw that a nearby church had a service the evening of Christmas Eve, so we told them we were going to that.
Somehow, it was a very moving experience for us. It was done as a service of Lessons and Carols, scripture readings alternating with related songs sung by the congregation, often just one or two stanzas. I presumed that was in order to prevent the service from being too longâor maybe it was simply because the songs were sung from memory. The church was darkened, a candle being lit during each song. The sanctuary was perhaps half full, and I wondered whether visitors, probably mostly family members, made up for those who were away with families in other places. There was a brief sermon on the meaning and importance of the incarnation and its place in redemption. Communion was served at the end, in theâstill mostly unlitâsanctuary. Of course, we didn't take part.
As we left, we spoke briefly to the pastor, telling him who we were and why we were there. He had met Ellen's parents, but didn't know them beyond having been introduced and saying hello three or four times. As I said, I found the service simple and moving, and I made a point of telling him so, and Ellen added her agreement.
On Christmas morning, Ellen and I gave her parents a gift, and we gave one to Steve. Ellen had insisted that I shop with her and be consulted, but I had to trust her judgment entirely. I had been coming to know Steve somewhat, but I had no idea what he would like to receive, and her parents were
terra incognita
. After a couple of days in their house, I had a little more idea of their tastes, but not enough to do a good job choosing a gift. They gave us each a gift, something of a knickknack for meâfrom which I guessed that they had not consulted Ellenâand a beautiful, framed, Chinese art print for her. Mine was to my eyes exotic and beautiful and way too breakable. Steve gave us a framed print of a work by my grandfather, which again had me choked up.
We gave Steve food, to wit a moderately small cheesecake, and from his reaction I gathered this was perfect. Had I seen him in person earlier, I would have questioned this, as he seemed too thin to be one who enjoyed food all that much, but I plainly would have been wrong. We gave Ellen's parents a little music box, a real one, spring-driven, not one of the awful synthesized electronic ones. It was beautiful to look at, patterned woodwork, with a painted scene inside the lid. It seemed to me that they were surprised and very pleased. Ellen had warned me that we should stay away from anything Chinese or Chinese-themed, and this was certainly not Chinese. It was a recent replica of a Swiss-made box from the early nineteenth century, more expensive than a lot of mass-produced ones. I guess it qualified as a knickknack, too, though.
I gave Ellen matching earrings and pendant. I'd gotten these at the same time I got a set for Sam, the earrings of which I had already given her. I later showed Ellen the pendant I had for Sam, and she was enthusiastic about it. Jenny had been more of a problem, to me, but I had gotten another pendant, by itself, which Ellen pronounced more than acceptable. She asked, and I told her that the woman at the shop where I'd bought them had asked to see pictures of all three of them, and also asked me a lot of questions about what they were all like. I had explained that, in the school where we met, most jewelry was forbidden, when she asked why I didn't know anything about what other jewelry they wore. Ellen said again, "I never get help that good when I shop!" I wondered whether that was because she knew what she was doing.
Ellen had gone along with me shopping for Mom and Dad, too, but had deferred to me when I said something like a cheesecake would be much appreciated. We had decided to wait until we were there to buy it. I was glad the one we'd bought for Steve had survived the trip.
Of course, with Christmas on Sunday, Monday was a holiday, and most everything was closed. I spent some time in the morning talking with Ellen's parents, just casually discussing many things. At the beginning, I felt about as casual as if I were trying to make my way through a minefield. But it became plain that at this point they weren't challenging or testing, but really just getting to know me, and I relaxed a lot. They asked more about my grandparents, and I told about both setsâhow I'd never known Mom's father, and how Nonna had died when I was so young, without my being able to tell her goodbye. I almost broke down again, just from that. I had told Mr. Chan some about Granddad, but I said a lot more about him and Grandmom, their important place in my upbringing, and how much I still missed them.
They, in turn, told me about their own parents' lives, both in China and in the US. I found that very interesting, and had lots of questions. I would have found it terribly hard to come into another country, with a very different language and culture, the way they did, and I thought that the Chans saw how much I admired their parents for having done this. They explained some of the social network that had existed for new Chinese immigrants at that time.
I asked Mrs. Chan about housework she would like me to do, and persevered in the face of her protests, so I spent time in the late morning and early afternoon vacuuming and washing windows, and a few other things. Of course, I had already done what I could on the bathroom Ellen and I were using.
And despite the holiday, Mr. Chan went in for a couple of hours to do some work, and he invited me to go along. We were pretty much alone in the warehouse he took me toâthere were a couple of security people thereâand he spent quite a while showing me around it, explaining things. What he had gone in to do was mostly paperwork with some computer work, and I sat in his office with him as he did it. He explained some of what he was doingâmaking sure things were getting where they were supposed to go, and getting some orders out to fill orders that had come in despite the holidays. Orders to suppliers to fill orders from customers, I mean. His contacts abroad knew about the Christmas holidays in the US, but the business still didn't stop. Even American customers shopped on line on the holidaysâapparently many more than I would have imagined. I found it all fascinating, but there was too much I didn't know.
