Iva Toguri d'Aquino - Died - September 26th, 2006

From the Federal Bureau of Investigation

Famous Cases
Iva Toguri d’Aquino and “Tokyo Rose”

Following the Japanese surrender in September 1945, American troops began searching for Japanese military leaders and others who may have committed war crimes. The press—sometimes following, sometimes beating the military to the scene—did the same.

Two of these reporters, Henry Brundidge and Clark Lee, sought “Tokyo Rose,” the notorious siren who tried to demoralize American soldiers and sailors during the war by highlighting their hardships and sacrifices.

Through their legwork and contacts, the two reporters quickly identified one young American woman, Iva Ikuko Toguri d’Aquino, who had made such broadcasts. Brundidge and Lee offered her a significant sum, which they later reneged on paying, for exclusive rights to interview her. Aquino agreed, signing a contract that identified her as “Tokyo Rose.”

The problem for Aquino, though, was that “Tokyo Rose” was not an actual person, but the fabricated name given by soldiers to a series of American-speaking women who made propaganda broadcasts under different aliases. As a result of her interview with the two reporters, Aquino came to be seen by the public—though not by Army and FBI investigators—as the mythical protagonist "Tokyo Rose." This popular image defined her in the public mind of the post-war period and continues to color debate about her role in World War II today.

Early Life

Aquino was born Ikuko Toguri in Los Angeles on July 4, 1916. Her father, Jun Toguri, had come to the U.S. from Japan in 1899. Her mother followed in 1913, and the family eventually settled in Los Angeles. During her school years, Ikuko Toguri used the first name of Iva. She attended grammar schools in Calexico and San Diego before returning with her family to Los Angeles where she finished grammar school and went on to high school and junior college.

Iva Toguri enrolled in the University of California at Los Angeles and graduated in January 1940 with a degree in zoology. She did graduate work there until June of that year. During her school years, Toguri was a popular student and was considered a loyal American. Her favorite pastimes included sports, hiking, and swing music.

From June 1940 until July 1941, Toguri assisted her father in his mercantile shop.

To Japan

On July 5, 1941, Toguri sailed for Japan from San Pedro, California, without a U.S. passport. In subsequent years, she gave two reasons for her trip: to visit a sick aunt and to study medicine. In September of that year, Toguri appeared before the U.S. Vice Consul in Japan to obtain a passport, stating she wished to return to the U.S. for permanent residence. Because she left the U.S. without a passport, her application was forwarded to the Department of State for consideration. Before arrangements were completed for issuing a passport, Japan attacked America, and war was declared.

Iva later withdrew the application, saying she would voluntarily remain in Japan for the duration of the war. She enrolled in a Japanese language and culture school to improve her language skills. From mid-1942 until late 1943, Toguri worked as a typist for the Domei News Agency; in August 1943, she obtained a second job as a typist for Radio Tokyo.

The Zero Hour

In November 1943, Toguri was asked to become a broadcaster for Radio Tokyo on the Zero Hour program. The program was part of a Japanese psychological warfare campaign designed to lower the morale of U.S. Armed Forces. The Zero Hour was broadcast every day except Sunday, from 6 p.m. until 7:15 p.m., Tokyo time. Toguri participated in most weekday broadcasts, but other women handled weekend duties.

Toguri was introduced on the program as "Orphan Ann," "Orphan Annie." Toguri's average time on each program was about 20 minutes, during which she made propaganda statements and introduced popular records of the day, such as "Speak to Me of Love," "In a Little Gypsy Tea Room," and "Love's Old Sweet Song." The remainder of the program was devoted chiefly to news items from America and general news commentaries by other members of the broadcasting staff.

By late 1944, Toguri was writing her own material for the program. Her salary at Radio Tokyo reportedly amounted to some 150 yen per month—about $7 in U.S. currency.

Toguri was not a professional radio personality, but many of those who later recalled hearing her enjoyed the program, especially the music.

As far as its propaganda value, Army analysis suggested that the program had no negative effect on troop morale and that it might even have raised it a bit. The Army’s sole concern about the broadcasts was that “Annie” appeared to have good intelligence on U.S. ship and troop movements.

On April 19, 1945, Iva Toguri married Felipe Aquino, a Portuguese citizen of Japanese-Portuguese ancestry. The marriage was registered with the Portuguese Consulate in Tokyo; however, Aquino did not renounce her U.S. citizenship. She continued her Zero Hour broadcast until the war was over.

After The War

In September 1945, after the press had reported that Aquino was “Tokyo Rose,” U.S. Army authorities arrested her. The FBI and the Army’s Counterintelligence Corps conducted an extensive investigation to determine whether Aquino had committed crimes against the U.S. By the following October, authorities decided that the evidence then known did not merit prosecution, and she was released.

Before the year was out, Aquino again requested a U.S. passport. American veterans groups and noted broadcaster Walter Winchell learned of this and became outraged that the woman they thought of as “Tokyo Rose” wanted to return to this country. They demanded that the woman they considered a traitor be arrested and tried, not welcomed back.

The public furor convinced the Justice Department that the matter should be re-examined, and the FBI was asked to turn over its investigative records on the matter. The FBI's investigation of Aquino's activities had covered a period of some five years. During the course of that investigation, the FBI had interviewed hundreds of former members of the U.S. Armed Forces who had served in the South Pacific during World War II, unearthed forgotten Japanese documents, and turned up recordings of Aquino's broadcasts. Many of these recordings, though, were destroyed following the initial decision not to prosecute Aquino in 1946.

The Department of Justice initiated further efforts to acquire additional evidence that might be sufficient to convict Aquino. It issued a press release asking all U.S. soldiers and sailors who had heard the Radio Tokyo propaganda broadcasts and who could identify the voice of the broadcaster to contact the FBI. Justice also sent one of its attorneys and reporter Harry Brundidge to Japan to search for other witnesses. Problematically, Brundidge enticed a former contact of his to perjure himself in the matter.

With new witnesses and evidence, the U.S. Attorney in San Francisco convened a grand jury, and Aquino was indicted on a number of counts in September 1948. She was detained in Japan and brought under military escort to the U.S., arriving in San Francisco on September 25, 1948. There, she was immediately arrested by FBI agents, who had a warrant charging her with the crime of treason for adhering to, and giving aid and comfort to, the Imperial Government of Japan during World War II.

The Trial

Aquino's trial began on July 5, 1949, one day after her 33rd birthday. On September 29, 1949, the jury found her guilty on one count in the indictment. The jury ruled that:

“...on a day during October, 1944, the exact date being to the Grand Jurors unknown, said defendant, at Tokyo, Japan, in a broadcasting studio of the Broadcasting Corporation of Japan, did speak into a microphone concerning the loss of ships.”

This made Aquino, who had gained notoriety as “Tokyo Rose,” the seventh person to be convicted of treason in the history of this country. On October 6, 1949, Aquino was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and fined $10,000 for the crime of treason.

On January 28, 1956, she was released from the Federal Reformatory for Women at Alderson, West Virginia, where she had served six years and two months of her sentence.

She successfully fought government efforts to deport her and returned to Chicago, where she worked in her father’s shop until his death. President Gerald Ford pardoned her on January 19, 1977. She is still living in the U.S. today.

Neither Brundidge nor the witness testified at trial because of the taint of perjury. Nor was Brundidge prosecuted for subornation of perjury. According to FBI records available at the National Archives, the Department of Justice thought that the evidence came down to the witness’s word against that of Brundidge.

Photo courtesy of the National Archives.

What is your greatest wish

1st Girl: Dry sheets in the morning.
2nd Girl: I wish I had my innocence back.
1st Boy : I wish the screaming would stop.
2nd Boy : I just want to punch Kyle in the face.
3rd Girl: I want to crawl inside your head and eat my way out.
4th Girl: I wish the screaming would START.
3rd Boy : Have all the boogers I need.
5th Girl: What did Hitler say? … Oh, nothing? Ok, nothing.
4th Boy : I want Bernedette turned back into my daddy Bernie.
6th Girl: I wish my parents were back together… In HELL.

Culture 101 – Youth.

Another long boring post.

Sometimes it takes a while to truly understand the intricacies when it comes to parts of cultures. This past week, I took the time to explain a major difference in culture, to help my students answer, and better understand the answers to, many of their questions. Since most of my classes are “Conversational English”, I did stress new words, but this class was more of a culture class than anything else.

I thought I would give the details of the lesson for those who are not in the class; and also expand on that lesson, to give those from the “west” a better understanding of Chinese culture.

Most of my students realize that western youth are more independent at an early age. This can be surmised from most images of western culture that come into their lives. But, having that knowledge without explanation, sometimes results in a complete misunderstanding of the culture.

“Personal Independence”

Before I begin, I want to again stress that there is no “good/bad/right/wrong”, only differences. With both examples, you will find problems arising from their application, but those problems are also absorbed and addressed by their corresponding culture.

It is hard to describe one culture without raising questions regarding the other, so I ask you to read through both sections in order to fully understand the differences. And, if you read only one, and think I am being particularly hard on a culture, Please read what I have to say about the other. I believe I am being equally hard on both when it comes to this topic.

Above all else, in both cultures, children and parents do love each other. This is undeniable.

Chinese culture:

(Cultures change, and while things may be changing around China, these examples are pretty much the norm, outside of those few developed areas of China.)

Chinese youth, normally leave home only after getting a job, following either graduation from a university or marriage. Now, for most in the west, this does not sound so far off from their life, but there is a lot more to understanding the difference.

Prior to obtaining a job, there is no real “training” for personal independence. The idea of leaving home before this time is completely foreign for most; that being said, they become extremely dependent on their parents until that time.

When it comes to family, not only are certain aspects deeply rooted in the culture, but they are also legislated. For example, law dictates the financial responsibilities of both the parents and their offspring. Parents are financially responsible for their children until their children have the ability to provide for themselves, and children are financially responsible for their parents when they get old.

Also, we know of the “One Child Policy”. Again, this does not mean that Chinese people are throwing children away or trying to get rid of female children. This is a misconception based on a misunderstanding of the policy. If someone wants to have 12 children they can, but there is a charge for additional children. This is required for population control. Ask any Chinese person, and they seem pretty happy with it.

The legal age of marriage (aside from extreme rural areas), is about 22 years of age.

Residency laws are set up so that your legal residency is determined by the location of where your first job/home is. While, again, this may sound normal to those in the west, there is a difference: Once you set up residency in a town/city in China, there is an expensive legal process that one must go through in order to change residency.

Obviously, one will hold out for a better job at a better location, so that they will not have to go through that legal process. And, once they do become a resident, the idea of change takes an extreme “back seat” to the rest of their lives.

Although not legislated, for many, home ownership becomes a prerequisite to marriage. Often times, homes are bought by the husband’s family as a gift prior to marriage.

These things have an effect on the culture as a whole when it comes to the social development of youth.

People are “culturally forced” to stay home until well into their adult life. The earliest age they leave home, for the majority of Chinese, is 22. Yet, it is a safe bet that the majority wait well past this age. With the growing number of university students in China, that age can go well into their mid to late 20’s.

During this time, parents are well aware of their legal/financial responsibilities to their children. With the current developmental state of China, the preoccupation with raising a child into a wealthy life goes way beyond that idea in the west. The differences in social status are much broader in China than they are in the west. Where most people, in the west, wish that their children become financially stable for the child’s benefit, Chinese parents are also aware of the fact that their own financial stability is dependant on their child. Couple this with the fact that they are also responsible for their own parents, and one can see the pressure that parents can be under.

This results in a constant “balancing act” that is performed by parents all over China. On one hand, undue pressure is put on children to succeed; on the other, parents do not wish to be resented by their children.

The school day runs 8:00am – 5:30pm, six days (sometimes 7) a week. Parents often send their children to extra classes, in order to give them an “edge”. These “extra” classes can run all day during the summer/winter breaks as well.

The level of resentment in school aged children is quite high. This is where that “balancing act” comes into play. With the knowledge that their children are going to be their source of financial stability in their old age, parents offset that resentment by constant coddling. The idea of doing everything you can for a child, is multiplied exponentially here.

Parents wish to give their children the best of everything they can give them, even to their own detriment. While this idea might be shared with western countries, there is very little literal application of it to the extent it is applied in China. In this day and age, western parents are not going to miss meals simply to buy their child a mobile phone. (That does happen here in China.) Last week, I saw a mother holding a container of milk while her child drank from the straw… the child must have been 11 years old. (I see this type of thing often.)

Walk into any Chinese university classroom (of any level), and ask the students where they would like to go for their summer/winter vacation, and you will hear a resounding “HOME!” as a reply. Ask them if they miss home, and you will hear another resounding reply of “YES!”

For many westerners who travel to China, the result of this seems to have caused much of the China to be socially stunted; especially when it is common amongst all cultures to keep a “youthful appearance” by acting in the same manner as the youth in society. Well, obviously, this is socially stunted… but only in regards to WESTERN SOCIETY.

One “problem” that is currently arising in China, is when it comes to the newfound wealth, and the large gap between rich and poor. You are seeing a lot more people staying home a lot longer, because the financial returns are much better than the alternative of going out on ones own. This, plain and simply, results in some severley spoiled “adult children”.

You won’t see many 30+ year old western men, who are jobless, college graduates, living at home, driving cars bought by their parents, and hitting the clubs every night. I’m sure I could find a few of those, just walking down the streets of JinZhou (heck, I know a few of them).

Western Culture:

The only responsibility that is legislated, when it comes to family, is that of the parent over a child. In the US, depending on the state, the legal age of adulthood can range from 16 to 18. Until that time, parents are responsible for the financial and educational welfare and health of their children. When I tell my students that my parents could, when I reached age 18, call the police and have me removed from the house, they are astounded. But, as we know, this is not a common occurrence.

However, there is also another part of the culture that is legislated, and that is with regards to financial stability in old age. Medicare/Medicaid, social security, and retirement laws are the main focus of parents when it comes to their future. Again, this does not mean that western youth do not love their parents; the culture has lead to a situation in which their financial responsibilities are much less than in China.

Oddly enough, it is this lack of legislation that results in the state of western culture when it pertains to youth. They are “forced” to think independently much earlier.

(This is, in essence, the lesson I gave my class, in regards to how youth are raised in the west.)

My students are well aware of the fact that I and my siblings (and most American adults) left home at an early age. I decided to start my explanation with my father.

My father left home at an early age, the money he earned was “his” money. He was not obliged to send money home to his mother, but being from the rural south and from a large poorer family, he did. One day he met a beautiful woman (Mom), and they started to make “their” money. They started out living a very modest life, renting a small home.

Eventually, they had three very ugly children… and one incredibly handsome child (me). And, they began to raise those children in an American culture.

When I was young, I had several jobs. My jobs were to clean the table after the family ate, feed the dog, take out the trash, and clean my room. Most of you are thinking, “But those are not “jobs”, everyone has to do that type of thing", and you would be right; however, the way in which these things were approached is much different. My parents would even use the term “job” when speaking of them, “Kyle, it’s your job to clear the table.”

If I was a “good boy” (something my sisters will claim I never was), at the end of the week, I was paid for doing my “job”… fifty cents.

When I was young, fifty cents could buy you a Coke and a candy bar. The amount of penny candy it would buy could be measured in pounds.

So, my sister Liz and I would run off to the store, stock up on candy, and head off into the woods to play and eat away our “weekly paycheck”.

A small lesson in becoming independent.

However, if I was in the supermarket with my mother, and I saw an item I really wanted, another lesson would be learned.

My mother would not say “No” or “Yes”, she would not be angry or upset, the following conversation would ensue:

Kyle: MOM! I want one of these!
Mom: Do you have any money?
Kyle: No… (insert sad eyes and puffy lip here)
Mom: Where is your allowance?
Kyle: I spent it on candy with Liz.
Mom: Well, I’m sorry. Maybe next week you can buy (whatever item I was begging for).

Ah… another lesson.

Not only was it a lesson, it was practicality for my mother. Having four children, she wasn’t about to start coddling us to any great degree.

The idea of personal finances and jobs is fostered much earlier. When I was 14, I delivered 200 newspapers a day, for $200 a month. By the time I was 15, I had my own car (old, ugly and cheap, but mine nonetheless).

Here I was 15 and a car; time for another lesson.

I will never forget my mother’s words when I first asked her, “Mom, can I take my car out for a drive?” She said, “Kyle, it is your car, you don’t have to ask me.”

Wow, a little more freedom.

The first day of school, when I drove my car, I stopped to get gas. While turning in, I hit a pole that protected the pumps, causing a huge gash in the side of the car. As soon as I got to school I nervously called my mother; “Kyle, it’s your car… it’s your dent” was her reply.

WOW! Even more freedom.

More and more, the idea of ones own personal independence is fostered. By the time they are 18, most western youths will have had at least one part time job. While we are not being schooled for the same length of time, we are learning, by example, what jobs we will have if we do not study hard and get a good education.

During this time, parents are equally aware of the fact that their financial wellbeing is their own responsibility. Having this understanding, the option to coddle children, is dependant on their ability to secure their own future.

This does not mean that parents only spend “just enough” on their children in the west, to the contrary. But the extracurricular activities that parents spend money on, are more for the development of the child’s individual personality, rather than educational. In the west, you are more likely to be taking t-ball, basketball, football, band, dance, karate, or other classes in your “free time” (this does happen in China, but not to the same degree).

Financial independence is also learned from the actions of the parents. Not having the burden of total financial responsibility for their own parents, the parents of western youth, have more personal finances available to them. Children see their parent’s spending money on things that are specifically for the parents, without any regard to the happiness of the child. This is a polar opposite of what is seen in most of China. That does not mean that western parents are spending money while neglecting their children, they are simply living their lives independently of their children.

But, there is a problem with this. Much of this line of thought is taught to us at a very young age. The maturity level is really far from what it should be, when it comes time for actual independence. This starts to cause a major problem… conflict.

The youth, with their newfound freedoms, are still burdened by rules that they slowly believe to be unwarranted. They see their parents as independent yet not having to follow those same rules. They are told to act as their parents would, yet they are not treated equally. (Obviously they are not equal, but slowly, the youth in the west cannot ascertain the differences and conflicts arise.)

When I was 16, I was allowed to have a “real” girlfriend (as opposed to those that you just held hands with during lunch in middle school). So, I had a job, I had a car, I had a girl, I was being told that I was independent… yet, I had to be home by 10:00… this just did not sit well with me (nor most youths in western culture).

Because these lessons are learned at such an early stage in maturity, rebellious attitudes start to surface much earlier. Rebelling against authority figures becomes the center of most conflicts.

When I was in school, I was once the recipient of “corporal punishment” via the educational system. In other words, I got the paddle.

I can remember telling the principal “NOBODY is going to hit me. Send me home for three days” and feeling cocky, as if the world revolved around me. When he called my mother to tell her I had chosen to be expelled instead of the paddle, he handed the phone to me. My mother simply said, “Kyle, if you don’t take the three ‘licks’ now, you will get more when you get home.” I looked at the principal and said, “Hit me.”

In China, the idea of being sent to the headmaster (principal) is so distasteful; the idea of actually going there to be spanked, and then acting cocky, is unimaginable.

But it is exactly for these reasons that western youth leave home at such an early age.

While Chinese families may have the same “house rules”, they are more apt to obey them than western youths; even to the point of obeying those rules while at college. I don’t know how many times I have heard a boy/girl state that they did not have a girlfriend/boyfriend, because they were not allowed. (I just cringed, but this brings up another example. You will not get away with calling a western female university student a “girl”, and you will not get away with calling a Chinese female university student a “woman”. )

The youth of China may see the university as an extension of home; western youth see it as an escape from home.

Go into a university in the US, and ask the students where they will go during “Spring Break”, and I am pretty sure you will not hear a resounding “HOME!”

By the time we reach the university, we are so tired of those conflicts with rules, that we would rather stay in our dorm rooms during a break, than to actually go back to the place that causes so many of those conflicts.

Even today, I know that I would not be comfortable spending more than one night in my parent’s home. It is not that I do not love my parents (I do, very much), but it is that I know my parents still have “rules”. Just as two objects cannot occupy the same space, two independent people cannot occupy the same home… without some major conflicts.

When I moved into my first home, my Aunt Nell told me that, when my parents visited, I should make them remove their shoes at the front door, but keep mine on the whole time. Whenever they asked, I was to just tell them it was “My rule”. Obviously, she was being funny, but she was using the knowledge of western culture to make a joke.

In the west, we do not “accept” rules; we learn harsh lessons in obeying them. What is the result of this? Well, while Chinese youth accept them, they will eventually learn those lessons later in life when they do start to rebel (of course they will be much more mature in their rebelliousness); western youth will come to the same understanding, at the same time, but at the cost of having to learn the hard way.

The best example I can give, is what I wrote about last week, when that boy decided to become rebellious in class. It was a harsh lesson for him, but not one that grew into the type of situation it would have with a 16 year old in the west.

Conclusion (hehe):

Kids are just messed up everywhere you go.

Personally, I think that the youth of China have it bad when it comes to eventually becoming independent. I have often had conversations with seniors who voice their fears of independence. I honestly do feel for them in this situation. I try my best to give them information to prepare them for life after “home”. The only thing I can do, is to speak of my experiences as an adult (generalized, of course), and tell them to read/watch the news. News today will affect them tomorrow; this might give them the knowledge they need to overcome some of their fears.

Western youth may gain an understanding of independence at an early age, but it comes at a cost. The cost is having those same fears as Chinese youth, but spread out over a longer period of time.

I think the key is to find a happy medium; although I do not think that medium would ever be sustainable. The sad part is, with the state of development in the west, it would seem more of a regression to try to incorporate that part of Chinese culture. I think the best chance for this happy medium, lies in the development of China.

It is true that an individual in the west, can raise a child in this way, but it is hard. Living in a specific culture, where there are so many cultural influences, one must work hard in raising their child another way. I see my sisters doing it, and every day I am sill more astounded by their efforts.

MP3

Went out and got myself a new MP3 player today. I had been using a 256Mb player, but I decided to get myself one with some more space, especially since the prices are dropping.

I picked up this little beauty for 199元 ($25) from the parents of one of my little friends outside the school gate. It’s a Unis VP-855 (internal battery) 512Mb.

The cool thing… this picture is actual size.

The only problem I have is that the OS takes up a LOT more space than what I am accustomed to. And, the OS has nothing special about it. As it is now, I can only put 430Mb worth of data on it; that seems like one HUGE OS for an MP3 player.

Laugh at Kyle

tact (tǎkt)
n.

Acute sensitivity to what is proper and appropriate in dealing with others, including the ability to speak or act without offending.

American Heritage Dictionary

I had two funny things happen to me the other day, so I thought I would share the laughter with you.

This past week was the first week of normal classes for the freshman class entering BoHai University. The first few weeks were taken up by PLA (People’s Liberation Army) training classes. (Or, as I like to call it, “Marching out the memory of Tiananmen”)

Anyway…

During the first few weeks of class, certain events occur. When I recount them, please do not think I am being narcissistic in any way; these things DO happen.

During the first class, when doing introductions, there are often girls who pay a little more attention that what one would expect. I realize that these girls are young, impressionable, and may have never had a teacher like me (foreigner).

Believe me, I KNOW I am no spring chicken… I’m 37 years old and not married, that fact is not lost on me.

However, every term, someone “falls in love” with me; scary to think about, huh?

I am never too quick to invalidate their feelings, I do not wish to “crush” anyone, but I try to let them know that they do not know me, let alone love me. After a year, it is easy to spot the ones who fell in love with me the previous year; they are the ones who treat me as though I have the plague.

Look, I am a guy; of course this boosts my ego, for a short time… But the realization of the fact that they have no clue as to who I really am sets in, and I come back to my senses.

But, during those first days, it is easy to tell the ones who may become unjustifiably “smitten”:

• They give you a look as though, in their minds, they are saying “He’s so DREAAAMMMYYY” (I shudder when I see this.)


• They are the ones who write down every bit of personal information they can get from you (phone number, e-mail, FULL name, room number, underwear size).


• They are the first to ask about your marital status. (Either that, or they get their friends to ask, while they sit beside them looking like Pavlov’s dog after the bell has rung.)


• They are the ones who hang around after class, just to be the last one out the door, so they can wave and smile and make sure they know you see them.

They are as easy to read as a first grade English book.

(Seriously, think back on the scene from “Raiders of the Lost Ark”, when Dr. Jones was sitting in his classroom. Remember the girl with the words “Love You” written on her eyelids, so that he could read them whenever she closed her eyes? Ok… now, remember the look he had on his face when he saw it? That’s me.)


(I spent the night making this visual aid.

Well, this past week, while teaching a new class, I had what I thought was one of those girls. I tried NOT to make too much direct eye contact, and tried everything to act uninterested. However, after class, there she was, waiting for the rest of the class to leave; double checking the phone number, e-mail, and spelling of my name from the board.

(Students often wait until the end of class for me for no more reason than to talk, I realize this, but this was a little different.)

When she got my phone number, she made sure to immediately call it so that I would have her number, made sure I spelled her name correctly, and kept those doe eyes locked into mine the whole time.

So, here I am, walking out of the building with this nice young girl, trying to think of another way of letting her down easy, when she said something…

“… I’ve had two previous American teachers… but they were both much more handsome than you.”

…ummm…ok…

This was one of those situations where I was not sure if I wanted to know if she meant what she said, or just used the sentence wrong. Dilemma dilemma… React out of ego, or hold back out of fear. I just let it go, if she meant what she said, then that just means there is one more woman who finds me unattractive. I think I can deal with that.

Now, some of my western friends might be thinking “Of COURSE she made a mistake in what she was saying, NOBODY would be that uncouth!" But… you have never lived in northeast China. Some of the things you and I would consider as being impolite are not the same here. (Phillipa, back me up on this.)

We have students ask us outright, “Teacher, why are you so fat?” We have students who will talk about their friends as being “Not very pretty” and the friend will be standing next to them, nodding in agreement.

So, honestly, this girl’s statement could go either way; I’m just not sure, and I’m not sure if I want to press it.

*******
Now… on to the next event.

The other day, I was walking across the campus when a girl came up beside me and said, “Hello Kyle, do you remember me?”

Although I am very bad with names (even English names) I do remember faces. I know all of my students.

I thought it was odd that she asked me if I remembered her, but I immediately answered, “Of course I remember you, you are…” and I said her Chinese name (I don’t want to post her name here).

Now… let’s stop and think about a few things, shall we?

• This girl was a student of mine for one term, over a year ago.


• During that time, her hair was long and dyed a reddish color. It was now short and dark black.


• That reddish color is common, and does not make anyone “unique”.


• I had not spoken to her in almost a year.


• I have about 300 students per term, each having at least two characters representing their names (many have three). And, unlike most westerners, I use the students Chinese name, not an English name.*


• Identical Chinese names are the norm, especially girl’s names.


• It actually WOULD be easier to remember made up English names.


• There are about 30,000 students at BoHai University.


• Chinese people have pretty much the same hair, eye, and relative skin color.


• There are only about 20 foreigners in JinZhou (a city that boasts a population of 3 million (Actually 700,000 but… I’ll save that for another post))


• I have been here for three years, and this is the beginning of my fourth academic year.


• I have taught about 2,000 different university students since I came here. (I’d hate to figure in the number of middle school and primary school students).


• I’ve known my father for 37 years, and I still don’t know which day in May is his birthday 20th, 21st, 22nd, or the 23rd..

Now… taking ALL of those things into consideration, what do you think her reaction would be, after remembering her Chinese name?

She said…

“Yes, but do you remember my English name?”

What, must I use flatulence to play the Chinese national anthem in order to impress you?

(I SO wanted to say "Of course, you are..." and use an English word that rhymes with "swat".)

• I use the students Chinese names when checking attendance. I’m sorry, but I think those western teachers who come here and make their students change their names are just lazy. Look, give them the excuse of “It gets you into the English Learning Mode” all you want, it really is nothing more than pure laziness on your part. That HAPPENS TO BE THE PERSONS NAME. And, unless I am mistaken “English” names are actually taken from wherever they have come from. You don’t see FRENCH people changing their names when they move to the US/UK/Canada/Australia/New Zealand. So stop fooling yourself, and stop lying to your students.

No… seriously… you did not just…

Yesterday, I was conducting a lecture class in American culture, to a group of two sophomore classes (60 students). This is the third time we have met, so it has not been very long since I gave my first day lesson in class rules; one of the first being “When I am talking or another student is talking, no one else should be talking unless it is part of the conversation.”

For most of you, this seems like a silly rule to be telling to sophomores attending a university. This seems like a rule you would explain to elementary or middle school students. But, yesterday was a prime example of why I must constantly quote this rule to my students.

I would read some passages from a textbook, write some points on the board, discuss my experiences (as an American), and then discuss that information with the class.

I kept noticing one group of girls who were engaged in a conversation that was obviously not dealing with the topic at hand. I politely asked them to stop, and they responded by keeping quite… all but one.

Soon, I noticed that I was repeatedly doing that “SHHH!!” thing to the remaining girl. I HATE this, because it makes me look quite silly, and the whole idea of having to do it to someone who is 22 years old, drives me insane.

After telling her, specifically, five times to “SHHH!”, I did the old “Ok! This is the last time I am going to tell you… SHHH!” I almost went ballistic when she returned a dismissive look, but I bit my tongue and continued the class.

Within 30 seconds, she was at it again… I snapped. I looked at her and said “Look, you are an adult, I am NOT your mother, and I am NOT your father. How many times do I have to tell you… No, forget it... I am not doing this, just leave.”

She gave me a stunned look and I repeated “Leave!” and pointed to the door.

This is when things started to move towards the “getting out of hand” stage.

I looked back at the book to continue, but I noticed she was not leaving. When I repeated my order, I realized why she was not leaving. Every time she stood up to leave, her boyfriend (sitting next to her) would grab her things, put them back on the desk and tell her to sit down.

I looked him dead in the eye and said, “No. I told her to leave.” She got up again and he repeated his order for her to sit back down.

(If they have an illustrated dictionary of English slang, I am sure that the look on my face would have been used under the definition of “Are you out of your #$@! mind?”)

Just to make sure there was no misunderstanding, I looked at him, shook my head and said, “No… She IS leaving.”

She stood up again, and again, he pulled her back down.

I looked at him and said, “Son, you might want to try to make me lose face, but I’ll tell you right now, you will not win.” (Yes, I used the word “Son” hehehe)

She got up again and said, “This is my fault…” I was still locked eye to eye with her boyfriend, but I cut her off in mid sentence and said, “Yes it is; now you can both leave.”

The boy gave me one of the meanest looks I’ve seen in a long time. But I quickly shot back “Look, don’t be angry with me, instead of telling her to sit down, you should have been telling her to SHUT UP, and this would have never happened. Get your priorities straight. This is MY classroom, not yours; I control it, not you.”

At this point, I think he started to realize that I was a teacher, and he was not going to win the argument, and they both left.

The most irritating thing, about this type of situation, is that here (or at least every place I have seen in this area of China), the students would never do such things in their classes taught by Chinese teachers. Teachers are revered and respected here.

Why is it that I have had to kick students out of class for some of the most childish things imaginable? Seriously, last term I kicked students out of the classroom on four separate occasions.

I once had a girl who kept using her mobile phone in class. I kept telling her to TURN IT OFF. When it rang again, she answered it and I said, “Are you going to turn it off, or leave the classroom?” She opted to leave the classroom.

On three occasions, when trying to remove students from the class, they have said “No.” (Yep, that’s right, it has happened so often that I have actually had students tell me “No.”)

It becomes a power struggle. But, “Papa’ didn’t raise no fool”; that power struggle is purely their struggle. I do the same thing every time; I look at my watch and say, “Ok. In 20 seconds, one of us is going to leave this classroom. Is it going to be you, or is it going to be me?” If the second hand passes 20 seconds, I walk out the door.

Most of you might think if I walk out the door they have won… but you don’t understand China. What has happened is this; when I leave, that person becomes the focus of scorn from the rest of the class. So their options are to either leave and feel bad, or stay and feel worse.

Once, it was a power struggle between four boys. As a group, they did not think it all the way through, and the 20 seconds passed… at the very beginning of the day they were to take finals. When I left, they found themselves sitting in the middle of 30 students who were now unable to take their final (the Chinese educational system is a test oriented system, finals are EXTREMELY important).

Halfway home, I had four boys running after me pleading with me to come back. I kept walking and when they asked about the other students, I said “That is all up to you; you wanted control of the classroom… It’s yours.”

I think the greatest example of learning a lesson from this, is when I did this in a primary/middle school. Another of my major “rules” is not to laugh at someone’s English ability; I do not want people being too scared to try. One boy (Benjamin; I’ll never forget his name) did not understand this, and he was ALWAYS laughing at other students.

His English was the best in class, but his humility level was non-existent. So, after the fourth time of telling him to stop, I let him know if he did it again he would leave the classroom.

After the fifth time, when he refused to leave, I repeated the “20 second” demand. With tears in his eyes, he slowly left the room, followed by the Chinese teaching assistant.

A few minutes later, I started to get a little worried. Outside the classroom, I could hear her having a heated argument. I knew the boys mother, I had met her several times; she was a policewoman. The whole time I kept thinking to myself, “Oh, great… I have pissed off a Chinese policewoman. NOW what am I going to do?”

When class was over, I walked out the door, and she was waiting for me with her son standing beside her in tears. The strange thing was that she had a smile on her face.

She looked at me, reached her hand out to shake mine, and said (in English) “Thank you!”

It seems that she KNEW her son had done this all the time and was unable to stop him. The heated argument she was having was with the teaching assistant. She was upset that this happened so often, but the other teachers never did anything to stop it.

But, this is when Benjamin needed to learn this lesson… at a very early age, NOT while sitting in a classroom during his second year at a university.

Ugh. First real day of school.

I’ve had a cold for over a week. My stomach hurts. It’s 7:20am. I don’t feel good.

MOMMY!!! I Don’t WANNA go to schooooollll!

In what way have I changed?

It’s sometimes hard for me to figure out if I have changed as a person, or if I am just getting old. Why do I say “Getting old”? Because some of the changes that seem to have occurred, are things that I would normally associate with my parents and grandmothers.

Case in point.

Tonight, a family (friends) invited the foreign teachers to have dinner at their restaurant/home. They do this every so often, and we always have a good time.

Only three of us (foreign teachers) showed up this time. As we filed in, I started to notice who else was invited. There was a regional inspector for the Communist Party (I had met him before; a nice fellow, but obviously well off), a retired military officer who worked as an engineer (again, very nice man, and very well off), a mutual friend of theirs, the family who invited us, a son of an English teacher in town, who wanted him to speak with foreigners, and a new freshman student from the university.

These dinners usually end up the same way; breast beating, 白酒 drinking, absurd amounts of politeness, and loud talking. It’s not horrible, and everybody is nice, but… not really my “cup of tea” so to speak.

We were all seated in a separate room from the main “dining room” of the restaurant, sort of hidden away from the rest of the world.

It was going to be a while before we started eating, so I could not help popping my head outside to look for MY friends, the children who play outside the gate. I never have to look far to see one of my friends, or for them to see me.

I walked a little bit and sat down next to two of my little friends, a 7 year old boy and 6 year old girl. I just talked and laughed with them, while they danced around on a blanket they had spread over the sidewalk.

These two children are from some of the poorer families who live and work outside the campus. But, those who know me now, understand that “snotty nose or dirty clothes” make no difference to me. We all play together as friends.

The little girl is somewhat sickly, and always has a runny nose. She is quite shy and does not say much… until I appear. She really likes to talk to me and be around me. Her parents always point me out to her when they see me. I talk with them quite often too.

I always see these particular children, playing outside. They usually seem to be eating nothing more than the fruit from the fruit stands, or sunflower seeds. I see this, because they are always offering me bites of their fruit. I think their parents appreciate me, because I actually DO take bites of their fruit. I don’t give them the passing “Oh, peasantry” look that most might.

I must admit, I do love the looks we get from others, as I sit on a chair with two Chinese children sitting on my lap, feeding me bites of fruit, and having conversations with them in my limited Chinese. The kids don’t seem to notice a difference in me, but the rest of the world passing by does notice. Sometimes those looks can be quite entertaining.

Soon, the owner of the restaurant and his daughter came out and shuffled me back in. I could see a little bit of sadness and bewilderment on the face of the little girl. So, I said goodbye, and told them I would see them later.

I noticed that it was still going to be a while before we started eating, so I stood in the main “dining room” talking with the female cook and waitress. There were a couple of tables taken by groups of students, and as usual, they seemed to be focused on the fact that I was familiar with the people, and was speaking Chinese.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the little girl was standing at the doorway of the restaurant, so I ran at her, as if I was going to push her out. She quickly smiled, reached her hands up, and proceeded to “push” me back across the floor (with a little help from me, of course). (I could tell she was shy and a little scared to come in, having no reason to be in there. By playing with her, I gave her reason enough to come in.)

She was curious as to where I had gone, and what was going on in this “building”, so I told her that I was going to eat with some friends. I walked her to the room where the rest of my friends were, and she quietly looked around.

I put her up on my knee, wiped her nose for her, and we sat together for a while.

She would lean over every once in a while and ask me a question, like “Who is that?” or “What is that?” We always talk in Chinese, so she was not asking for an English lesson, she was just curious.

I started to realize that she was asking a lot of “What is that” questions when it came to the food on the table. Slowly, I realized that she had no idea as to what some of those dishes were.

One of my favorite things is “deep fried red bean sauce”… it’s hard to explain, but it is REALLY good (and sweet).

I reached over, and handed her some. She was a little shy about eating it, but after a while, she took to it and loved it. She then handed me a handful of sunflower seeds in “return”.

After a while, when the dinner started, she decided to leave.

Every so often she would return, stand next to my chair, and look around. Every time she asked me what a dish was, I would tell her, fill up my chopsticks, and feed her some. It was then that I saw a few looks on some of the faces at the table.

It wasn’t looks of “Do you think you are special, feeding nice things to a poor little girl?” it was “How could you feed that dirty little girl and use your own chopsticks to do it?”

Neither of those thoughts ever entered my mind. She IS my friend; and just as she feeds me watermelon, I was going to feed her what I was eating. Plain and simple.

You know what? She is a dirty, poor, sickly girl. And, I am sad to say, three years ago, I probably would have had a problem with her even being close to me at the dinner table.

But, changes have happened in my life. I still don’t know if it is just a result of getting older and not caring, or if I am starting to learn to care on a different level.

Towards the end of the meal, I quickly stashed a few more pieces of the fried bean sauce into a napkin, and hurried outside to share with my friends, which is where I wanted to be all along.

(I don't have a picture of this particular friend, but I just found this recent picture of my "#1 little sister", she has grown a lot.)

Cold

I have talked a little bit about this in the past and it usually only comes up when it starts to have an impact on my health… so, once again…

I am in NO way belittling China when I speak of this; to the contrary, I realize that there are differences between developments.

The ones I want to belittle are those westerners who are always spouting off about “home remedies”, “herbs”, and “Chinese medicine”.

Look, people used ALL of those things at one time. The further back you go down the social ladder, the more rudimentary those societies’ medicines will be.

Development happens in many stages and with many aspects of life. At one point in Anglo-Saxon culture, we used leeches and bloodletting to remove “impurities” from the blood. Native Americans chewed on bark and leaves to ease headaches and toothaches.

But, the thing is, science has moved forward and we have found the chemicals within those things, making them more readily available to all of mankind.

Yes, of course, you can watch an episode of “Discovery” and see how leech saliva is a natural anticoagulant, but come on; current technology has allowed us to create the same thing chemically in a lab. People use anticoagulants every day, and they are not injecting themselves with leech saliva.

What has got me on this subject? Well, the common cold.

There IS NO CURE FOR THE COMMON COLD. However, over the years, we have come up with several ways of remedying the effects of the common cold. Yet, here in JinZhou, they seem to be a step back from what I am accustomed to.

Any time you have a cold, the first thing they are going to do is set you up with an IV of antibiotics. Why do they do this? Well… who the hell knows? The common cold and the flu are both viral, and not bacterial, so an IV of antibiotics is as useful as a screen door on a submarine. But, they keep doing it.

Antibiotics are dished out, over the counter, as if they were cough drops. It amazes me the amounts and types of antibiotics you can get here.

Seriously, if they do not control it soon, the next “Super Bug” to hit the world, is going to come out of China.

Back to the common cold… What I am really irritated with, is that every time I go in, they try the IV thing with me. And, if I go in, it has usually become so bad, I will take anything. But, there is a reason it gets so bad… there is no readily available source of what most westerners have become accustomed to taking. In the west, you can go into any store and find hundreds of over the counter medications for relief of some of the effects of the common cold.

Maybe this is why they keep going with the IV of antibiotics. Not having the products to help ease the symptoms of the cold, causes everyone to suffer even more. Eventually that common cold is going to lower your immune system and an infection is going to set in sometime.

What I am in dire need of is something to stop the drainage in my sinuses. If I could stop the drainage, then I would not be coughing so badly. If I was not coughing so badly, I could sleep at night. If I could sleep at night, my body would heal itself. But, that’s not how it works here.

What was I given? Some Chinese medicine and a huge dose of vitamin C. Eventually, my cough got so bad, I figured there must be an infection happening somewhere, so I went for the IV. I am now on my third day of intravenous antibiotics…

WHERE IS MY NYQUIL!

Seriously, every time I get this nasty cold, every year, the doctors ALWAYS ask me the same thing, “What do they give you in America?”

Look, there are no major “state secrets of medication”, China has shown it can make copies of Viagra, why not start on something a little more basic… like an antihistamine.

So, for those westerners who want to “Revert” to a less developed stage in medication… I’ll send you an ample supply of crushed beetle larva and yak spit, just give me some dang Nyquil.

Brattleboro

I saw a news article today that threw me back in time a while.

Teen nudity exposes town's bare-bone rules

Let me tell you something, growing up not far from Brattleboro, in neighboring Winchester, New Hampshire, I got to see some odd things going on.

You know how some people think of some of those Colorado skiing towns as the “last remnants of the hippy lifestyle”, but with modern conveniences? Well, Brattleboro is… the crappy part of the field at Woodstock… and, it has never changed. (Wait, please, Brattleboro is a BEAUTIFUL town, but... the youth of that town seem to be from another planet.)

(Brattleboro)

Winchester was a small town of about 900 people, when I grew up there. It was a “normal” little New England town; one street light, a large Catholic population, a large Polish population (I miss those festivals… the sausages… mmmm), everybody knew each other, and you could not get away with anything as a child, without your mother knowing about it before you got home.

Seriously; I once went home (on my “Big Wheel”) only to have my mother meet me at the door and ask me why I was putting flowers into the mailbox down the road. Someone’s mother had called her. That was Winchester.


(Me and my siblings, in Winchester.)
Look, it was the 1970's, we were SUPPOSED to look that way.
Red socks? What was I thinking?
Winchester had its share of oddities though; like Mrs. Swan. I know she was someone’s mother and wife (at some point), but this was just a mean, weird lady. Bright (dyed) red hair, that pasty white skin all Yankee’s have, and she would wear a silver ski-suit. Like that didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. (Yeah, she was the woman the kids thought was a witch… every small town has one.)

But, Brattleboro was just… ALIEN to me. I guess the first feeling of being alien was the fact that my father’s friend was a Pentecostal street preacher (a far cry from the priest at the local Catholic Church I was accustomed to). But, being a street preacher was not as “weird” as the youth of Brattleboro. And, it seems the apples do not fall far from the tree, as they say.

I can recall riding through the town and noticing people dressed in styles from what I now know as being 10 years too late for the time. Furry hippy vests, long hair, bellbottoms, beads… it was just… S-T-R-A-N-G-E.

Later, when I decided to go back to Winchester for a camping trip, I drove through Brattleboro again. It was the early 90’s, and I recall noticing that the youth of Brattleboro were still “living in the past”, but this time, they looked like 20 years in the past.

I guess they have kept reverting, and now they are about 6,000 years in the past and wearing nothing.

Someone needs to check the water there… seriously.

(Here I am, talking about how weird the youth of Brattleboro are… and I just realized… I WAS PUTTING FLOWERS IN THE MAILBOX! It was not my fault… It was Eric Estrada subliminally telling me to do it, while I watched “CHiP’s”.)

Buddy

I never thought I would write one of these posts, and I always thought that the type of people who thought this way, were a little “off balance”, but… here I go anyway.

In my last post, I mentioned Buddy, my budgie. I got an e-mail from my friend David, telling me that Buddy died yesterday.

Buddy was not just a $19.99 bird from the local pet store. He was my friend, room-mate, and conversation partner, through the roughest time in my life.

After buying him, I read everything I could on budgies. But all of those books were not very helpful, after hearing what the director of the San Diego Zoo had to say about birds. He said that, most pet animals, in the wild, have some sort of social hierarchy with a leader, but this is not the case for birds. While it may be easy to tame other animals, by becoming the “alpha male” in that social hierarchy, the most you can expect from birds is to be their equal.

By keeping this in mind, I was able to coax Buddy into becoming as “tame” a bird as you could imagine. Not because I forced him, but because he wanted to. He WAS my equal, in my home.

I first got Buddy when he was about a month old. The first thing I did, when I got him checked at the vet, was to clip his feathers (They do grow back). I did some research and found a wonderful avian vet, not more than 2 miles from my home.

When he was in his cage, I did something that most books tell you NOT to do; I put him in the highest traffic area of the apartment. Since I lived alone, the only “Traffic” was me. This got him to quickly become acquainted with my routines.

Every day, for nearly a week, when I got home I would open his cage and slowly, very slowly, put my finger closer and closer to him, every day. Eventually, he scooted on to my finger. This went on until he was comfortable sitting on my finger as I talked to him.

Eventually, I would take his cage into the large walk-in closet and take him out, on my finger. This way, if he jumped off, he was still close to me. He quickly got over any fear of me, and would run back to my finger.



After getting accustomed to being taken out of his cage, I would bring him closer to my face or shoulder. Since he was unable to fly, I would have to carry him. This forced him to be dependant on me as transportation, until he could fly again. If he landed on the soft carpet, I would put my finger down and give a whistle. He knew that my finger was the initial way of getting anywhere, especially back into his cage. Slowly, that whistle became the “Call” for him to come; but I never used it as a “trick”, it was always a sincere call.

He would rest on my shoulder, as I would walk about the apartment. I could feel his anxiety in certain places, so I was always sure to slow down and let him get a view of everything. Slowly, he became accustomed to every room in the house.

When it was time to go to work, I would say “I have to go”, if it was time for bed, I would say “Go to sleep”. If he was on my shoulder, I would switch him to my finger and then put him in the cage. This went on over and over until he did not need me to put him in the cage; he would fly there on his own.



Whenever I saw that he was about to “poo”, I would quickly get him on my finger, hold him over his cage, and say “Poo-poo”. Eventually, he knew when I said “Poo-poo”, to “do his number” in the cage. I had read that it was nearly impossible to train budgies to do that. (Although their digestive cycle was only about 15 minutes, that still gave me 15 minutes of “poo free” fun with him.)

Slowly, but surely, he ended up having free reign of the apartment. I never closed his cage, unless it was time to sleep. For some reason, I believe he had nightmares. He would “flip out” at night sometimes and just flap around and squawk. When this woke me up, I would walk out and calmly talk to him and let him know I was there.

Obviously, having free reign of the apartment caused a few problems, like his preoccupation with gnawing on the legs of two ducks I had mounted after a hunting trip to Harsons Island, on Lake St. Clair. I guess he just could not figure them out.



I never gave him orders, other than to “poo”. I never forced him to do anything he did not want.

There were times when he did not want to go into his cage at night, and I would not force him. If I went to bed, I would always wake with him sitting on my shoulder (I sleep on my side). If he did not go into the cage when I said “I have to go”, he would always be in there when I returned. (I knew, after five minutes alone in the apartment, he would be scared enough to go back into the cage.)

He ate what I ate (with the exception of chocolate), watched what I watched, listened to what I listened to, and playfully annoyed the heck out of me while I tried to do anything.

His favorite way to annoy me, was to climb up on my ball-cap, hold on to the brim, and quickly flip upside down so that he was facing me, nibble on my nose, then flip back up again. Try having to deal with that during your favorite episode of “Quincy” or “Mangum P.I.”.



We would have wrestling matches on a daily basis. I would make a fist, with enough space in my fingers, for him to crawl into, like a cave. He would dive into my hand and start purring as if he was angry. I would return the purr and sometimes, literally, rub him the wrong way. He loved it. When it got to a fevered pitch, I would throw him into the air (I had cathedral ceilings in my apartment), and he would flutter around and come straight back to my shoulder.

His favorite food, and strangely enough, his last meal, was pizza crust. He would fly to my hand and munch on my pizza crust while I was eating the other end.

He loved watching Kung-Fu movies. He would crawl all over my head and shoulders, chirping like mad, while he watched. (He would have loved Chinese television.)

When he molted and his pin-feathers came in, I would hold him down and pinch off the casings and scratch his head for him. And, whenever he felt like it needed it, he would preen my mustache and beard.

Most birds like a good “misting” for a bath… not Buddy. Seriously, and to my mothers enjoyment, I would fill up a glass, and he would perch on the edge long enough to get some balance before doing a nose-dive into the glass of water. He was strange that way.

I talked to him constantly, from the moment I bought him, to the moment I handed him to David, before I left for China.

When I first bought him, I wanted him to become accustomed to my voice, so I would come in from work and just sit beside his cage and tell him what I did that day. I would talk about what was bothering me, what had made me happy or sad, anything that was on my mind. But, I never stopped. This was a constant routine for us.

I would talk, he would purr and chirp, as if to answer me.

When I lost my job, home, and the woman I loved, Buddy was there, always happy to see me come in the door, always ready to play, always ready to listen. When I was upset, he seemed to know, and would not make any fuss if I was not in the mood to play. There was much of that, during those months of posting resumes.

Whenever I would drive the 13 hours back to see my parents, Buddy was there, in his cage, in the front seat, watching the highway pass by. When I stopped at rest-stops, he was out of his cage and sitting on my shoulder while we ate sandwiches.

I can remember how people looked at me strangely when I took him into the vet for a complete “exam” that ran close to $300. They just could not imagine why I would pay that much on something I could “Replace for $20.” They just did not get it.

Even the vet got to know, and like Buddy. I can remember her excitedly telling her assistant that “Buddy does not bite!” (Budgies do NOT like getting their nails trimmed; and their bite can draw blood, especially the females.)

Once I had Buddy, I realized I would never be a cat or dog owner, I was strictly a bird owner. There is just something different about them. Cats could care less about you, they just want to eat and for you to stroke their fur to make THEM feel better. Dogs, well, they just don’t know any better. They are happy if you pass gas.

A bird bonds with you, it forms a connection; that is, if you take the time to reciprocate.

I will really miss him.

Remembering

Since I will be teaching next week, I wanted to get this posted.


Zheng YuGuang (65 - Retired chemist)
&
Yang ShuYin (61 - Retired pediatrician)

From BeiJing - Killed, September 11th, 2001

"Yuguang and Shuyin were married for 35 years and raised one son, Shidong, of Nagano, Japan and one daughter, Rui of Baltimore, MD. They were very loving and affectionate, although they had quite different hobbies and personalities. The husband loved painting and was accomplished at Taichi. He was a little bit reserved. When talking with him, you would find he would be quiet and listen to you most of the time. To his children he was a special father because he made you feel the love from the bottom of his heart, even though he didn’t speak a lot. His wife was an active, open-minded and kind lady. She loved to try every thing that was novel to her, even though sometimes it was a little risky. Besides, she liked cooking and was very good at it. Those who had tried her cooking loved her and her food. Definitely, the most important thing about her was that she was a good mother. She listened, accompanied and did her best to comfort her children whenever they felt upset and frustrated even after they grew up. To both Yuguang and Shuyin, family was the most important thing. They loved each other and their children. The couple came to the United States to visit their daughter and stayed for almost a year. Their English was very limited. But it was amazing that they have made some good friends around the area where they lived. Sometimes the couple was invited by friends to have dinner or tea and they would spend hours together using only limited and simple words to communicate with each other. Actually, the majority of the neighbors knew the couple because it was so easy to make friends and get along with them. Though they were over 60, they were still enthusiastic about learning English as a foreign language. When a word came up, they would immediately turn to the dictionary or ask their daughter. Some times they even made their daughter write the words and sentences down so that it would be easy for them to memorize.

Just before leaving they took a one week vacation with their daughter and son-in-law in Maine. They had a wonderful time there sightseeing, hiking and swimming. One day after the vacation, they got on AA77 and left for China. Before getting on board, they told their daughter, who saw them off at Dulles Airport, how much they enjoyed the year with her and promised to visit again in a couple of years. Then they hugged and kissed her. Rui stayed and watched them until they disappeared onto the plane that crashed into the Pentagon and led to a national tragedy that separated them from their loving family members.

For their family members, the only thing that provides relief is knowing that the devoted couple was together all the time, even at the last minute of their lives. What they left behind for family members and friends are the loving memories of them. The only wish of their children is that their parents didn’t suffer at the horrible moment. In their minds, their beloved parents still stay with them and care about them as usual. The only difference is that they cannot see their parents and hear their voices again."

Li Wan, son in law

Imagine one of those crisp autumn mornings, where the sky grows darker blue as cold starts to fill the air. The temperature is just above that point where you need to start thinking about adding another layer of clothing. The sun, shining through a nice clear sky with very few high feathery clouds, seemed ringed by high ice crystals.

The day was not out of the ordinary, just one of those types of days that I always liked, the type that had me thinking of heading to the woods for hunting. The news from earlier that year, that my name was drawn for the upcoming bear hunt, was the most important thing weighing on my mind that day.

As I headed into my job as the IT manager of the N. American headquarters of Faurecia (a French automotive supplier), I recall listening to one of the several morning radio shows as I drove down to 11 Mile Rd. outside of Detroit.

The work day started as any other day: Checking the computer system; checking e-mails; addressing any issues; communicating with offices in Germany and France; doing the “once around” the office to check for any major issues that may have popped up overnight; and finally settling in to proceed with completing my task list.

I’m a computer addict, whenever I sit in front of one, it takes something significant to bring me back to reality; the same was true that day.

Sometime between 8:46am and 9:03am, one of my co-workers came up and asked me for a cigarette, so we headed down three flights of stairs for a smoke break.

On the way down, he casually made the comment, “I’m sure glad we don’t work in the World Trade Center.” My reply to him was, “Yeah. That would be a hassle having to go down all those stairs.” I was clueless as to what was going on. He informed me of the fact that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.

In less time than it takes to smoke a cigarette, the world changed around me.

I was in a hurry to get back to the office to take a look at the CNN web page, when I realized that the usual “ho-hum” of starting work had completely vanished.

People were “abuzz” as they say, darting back and forth from cubicle to cubicle. I went straight for my desk to check the internet. At this point, people only thought of the incident as a freak accident; I can recall making the statement of “Something similar happened to the Empire State Building in the late 1940’s.”

A quick look at the internet showed that this was something different. That is the only time I have ever seen every news web page nearly shut down with traffic.

Someone had the idea to turn on the large screen TV in the conference room, and many employees went in to have a look at what was going on.

I can remember sitting there watching as images started showing the second plane hit. I immediately went to the phone and called my sisters and parents (not knowing my brothers phone number by heart).

Worried voices were heard everywhere. A number of employees were scheduled to fly in from Europe, and people were starting to wonder about their safety. People who had friends and family in New York were franticly making phone calls. Phone calls from international offices started to come in. It was ordered chaos.

For my Chinese readers, you can really not understand the numb feeling that was coming over every single person in the US that day. The feelings of bewilderment, shock, anger, bitterness, and fear, were repeated in phases. But, for the most part, it was surreal.

It was a struggle to proceed with any routine or task; and when you did perform them, it was almost like the walking dead. You just did what you did, but your thoughts were far from it.

I had an appointment that day at 9:30am to have a permanent crown put on one of my teeth. As I walked out the door, it was different, and I don’t mean in my perceptions, I mean in reality. Radio stations in the US are 99.99% music, with very little “talk radio”. When people drive in their cars, and most people drive, they listen to the radio. At the moment I walked out the door, not one bit of music could be heard. I do not believe one station played music that morning.

Detroit Wayne County Airport is the home hub for Northwest Airlines, and is the 10th busiest airport in the world with over half a million take off/landings a year. On any given day, the sky is filled with con-trails from planes. That morning, there were none; not one plane could be seen anywhere in the sky.

It was eerily quiet, except for the sound of news reporters on the radio.

Dentist offices in the US are a little different that what I have become accustomed to, here in JinZhou. Each person is attended to in a private room, away from others. That morning, as they put on my gold crown, they had carted a TV into the room, because people just could not step away from what was going on, even for a moment.

When they finished, I headed back to the office, just in time to see the first tower collapse at 9:57am (the dentists office was half a mile from my office). It was like watching some action movie; it just still did not seem real.

While sitting in the conference room, I could see the look on the two VP’s faces as they started to think about the situation. Both being European, their understanding that this was a national tragedy was clearly visible. They immediately informed us that the office would close.

Everyone left the office, not knowing what they would do, other than to return home.

When I returned to my apartment, I turned on CNN (24 hour news – Yet another addiction), tried to dial up the internet, and sat for a while, talking to my bird (Hey, I lived alone… who else was I going to talk to?).

I remember watching the second tower come down at 10:29am.

Later that day, I stopped at a convenience store to fill up on gas and to get a drink. Already, Detroit News had turned out a small special edition paper with the words “TERROR!” in tall black letters on the front, with an image of the towers in flames. I remember feeling amazed at how fast it took them to print and deliver those papers. (It seemed every newspaper was working overtime that day as well.)

A feeling of personal helplessness overcame many Americans that day. We had those feelings of sadness, anger, and rage, yet we were unable to do anything about it. This is when those people in whom we entrusted our freedoms to, were supposed to act.

I am not a Bush supporter, by any stretch of the imagination; however, people seem to forget his actions that day, and the following days.

I remember watching him on TV, telling the country to continue with life, to keep moving forward. He used an example of not canceling vacations or trips, out of fear; to do so would allow those who attacked us, to win. That impacted me personally, and three days later, I was on my way to the wilderness of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, for a weekend of bear hunting.

Five years later, and we are still feeling the effects of that one morning.