Good sayings — I dug them out back in August, copied them down before I threw it away.
Kind words can be short, but their echoes are long.
Lucky is a matter of preparation meeting opportunity.
The most important part of communication is to hear what is not being said.
The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a person’s determination.
The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence.

On 8/23, I told my daughter that the least quality that a man is expected to possess is responsibility at work and at home. I have seen too much lack of it among male folks.

She asked me why I did not expect a woman to be responsible. I said, “A woman can do something that no man can, that is, giving birth. A man should keep in mind that she is at her weakest moment in her life and needs him most when she makes the greatest contribution to their family, at the moment of giving birth to his child. This is also the touchstone of a man’s responsibility.”

Moreover, stay away from he who believes giving birth is the only thing that a woman can do.

Today marks the 24th anniversary of my father’s departure from this world. I always observe this day not only to honor the memory of my father but also reflect and remember what he left to the living.

The household that I grew up is very much like everybody else in my generation — basic, void of unnecesssary luxury. The only electronic gadget in our family was a radio box, which I took apart at least twice, once without a book, once with one. I remember the only place that had a lock on was a bookshelf, with plenty of old books. They must be very precious to my father.

All of his children have now shared his love of books, although none of them have read as much as he did. This brings to my mind the motto on his desk–it is always beneficial to read.

I wish he were still around and I would get him a large size kindle and open an amazon account for him, so that he could read to his heart’s content.

A few days ago, I searched around trying to find a flower for my father. I know he loved flowering plants but I never had a chance to find out his favorite ones. July 11 of 1987 saw his early departure from this life. 23 years later, as I try to honor the memory of him by writing about his life, I realize once again how little I actually know of his life stories, his childhood living with his stepfather, his experience in the army, years in Korea, his journey from a remote country village to the capital of the country.

I knew my grandmother was an old-fashioned village teacher. She not only gave her son his elementary education but also inspired him to fly high. But again, much as I want to know the person who had once exerted tremendous influence on my father, this person remained as unknown to me as any stranger on the street.

Winston Churchill liked to wonder about the future, always asking what would happen next, in one year or 5 years, etc. During his senior years, he realized that he had had a very eventful life and there must be many people who would write about him after he passed away. “Instead of having others write about me, I am going to write about myself.” And there he was, out with three volumes of memoirs and much more, setting the fact straight for all who later attempted to write about his life.

I wish my father had left some writing so that we had a chance to get to know him. I wish he could see the flowers that I have gathered for him here.

In the spirit of celebrating Father’s Day, I have to post an entry on a wonderful father, — Atticus Finch in To Kill A Mockingbird, one of the books that I have never failed to appreciate. Written by Harper Lee, it is a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel of 1960. It has been half a century since its debut and it will definitely go down history as one of the powerful classic books. I like the main characters — the widowed dad and the 6-year-old daughter, Atticus and Scout Finch.

The story, being historically realistic, happened in 1930s in American South. The lawyer Finch is to defend a black man who is wrongly accused of raping a white woman. Knowing the danger and the threat from the white mobs that he will face, Atticus demonstrates an admirable courage when he takes on the role of defending this black man.

The readers are impressed by his strong sense of justice and the courage to fight for it. As a dad and a single parent, Atticus has given his children the value and a good role model that will shape the minds and influenced them throughout their lives. As a parent myself, I can relate it to myself when I think of the fact that my actions, conscious and unconscionce, will be observed and followed.

Happy Father’s Day. To be continued from yesterday.
“Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. “What is it you want?” I snapped.

“You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

“Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding – this was my reward to you for being a boy. It is not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

“And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bed-side in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

“It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: “He is nothing but a boy – a little boy!”

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.”
–END–

In the end, it is the little boy’s good-night kiss that brought about all the changes in the heart of a father. Alas, on this wonderful Father’s Day, how many fathers miss this simple expression of love from their children or need this to enlighten them?

Quote from Father Forgets.
This is dedicated to all parents, especially to dads on the eve of Father’s Day. I read this piece long ago but it is so touching that I have never been able to forget it. It was written by W. Livingston Larned, later condensed in the Reader’s Digest. I hope every father will read this piece.

“Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

“There are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

“At breakfast I found faults, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbow on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, “Goodbye, Daddy!” and I frowned, and said in reply, “Hold your shoulders back!”

“Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbkes. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stocking were expensive – and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!”
To be continued…

To be constinued.
(7) While you can make yourself keep your promise, you cannot make other do the same. You can be nice to others, but you cannot expect other to be the same. The way you treat others does not mean others should treat you in the similar manner. You will save yourself a lot of trouble if you can understand this.

(8) I have bought lotteries for about 20 years and are still penniless. This tells me a person has to work hard if he wants to thrive. There is no free lunch in this world.

(9) We only have one chance of being together. Please appreciate the moments when we are together. Next life, whether or not we love each other, we won’t meet again.

This last piece is so touching. I can’t believe it was written by a father. Indeed, value every moment when our children are with us. Once they leave us, they are on their own and nothing will be the same again, this life or next life.

To be continued from yesterday’s posting.
(4) There is no things like “loved most” in the world. Love is how one feels at that instance, but that feeling will definitely change with the passing of time and your mood. If the one you love most leave you, please give yourself some time as time will slowly wash away whatever you feel, … Do not expect too much of the beauty of love and exaggerate the sorrow over its loss.

(5) The knowledge that you have learned will empower with weapon [in his word]. While a man can rise above the world without anything, he cannot do anything without any resources. [I don't know exactly what he means, but my guess is he wants his son to study hard and learn some skills as his resource. Nice way of expressing himself].

(6) I won’t ask you to support me in my later part of life. Similarly, I won’t support you either. When you have grown up and become independent, my responsibility for you will end. It will be totally up to you whether you take bus or Benz or have fish or rice noodle. [cool love]

This was sent to me by a friend of mine. It is a letter written by a Taiwan TV anchorman to his son. I love reading fathers’ letters to their children. They are so rare and so full of useful and rational love, vastly different from motherly one!

(1) Don’t take it seriously if somebody is not nice to you because nobody is obligated to be nice to you, except your mom and me. As for those who are nice to you, you should, apart from appreciating and feeling grateful, be on guard, because there are ultimate motives behind everything that people do. That is, when somebody is nice to you, it is probably not because he likes you. You really should not befriend of that person just because of this. [this is true and scary]

(2) Nobody is irreplaceable and no possession is a must. Once you realize this, you won’t take it to heart in case someone closest to you leave you or you lose all that you love most in the world.

(3) Life is but a brief span. While you waste your life today, tomorrow you will find life is farther away. Hence, the earlier you value your life, the more you will enjoy it. You would rather enjoy it early than expecting longevity.
To be continued tomorrow and the day after tomorrow.

My heart misses a beat or two every time I read about a dad’s love for his child, no exception this time. I received the following from a long time friend of mine. A few scanty lines have expressed so much.

Late into the night, stars shimmering all over the sky;
Deep in my heart, for you
Qingqing, my dearest daughter,
A light is lit — a light of prayer.
On this day — a special day,
Your old dad,
Wish you — happy birthday and happy everyday in your life.
Happy birthday to you!!!

22 years ago, July 11, 1987, my father, consumed by cancer, left us forever. Otherwise, he would be 80 years old this year. I was then in America, a second year Ph.D candidate. This morning I called my son and talked to him about his grandfather.

My father had an exciting and interesting life, born and raised in a mountainous area in Shanxi, a country boy who left his home village as a teenager to join the army, then became a member of Chinese communist party, had been to Korean War, graduated from a college in Beijing, had been in the inner circle of Ministry of Culture, ending his political career as a high-ranking army officer.

My father seldom talked to us about his past experience, but occasionally we heard some stories about my father from his comrades and my mother. We learned that he always emerged a key player wherever he went. During the Cultural Revolution, once two large contentious groups in Tianjin were on the brink of violent clash, with their swords already out of sheath, my father talked both sides out of their arms and retreated to their home, thus preventing the bloodshed of a large scale.

I once urged my father to write down his stories, my father, being an astute yet deposited politician, said, “Whatever I write, no one will publish it.” “I can find some publishers in Hongkong,” said I. “Not possible.” My father liked reading biography or autobiography of politicians. He once indicated that someday he would write his own memoir. In the end he left unprepared, leaving nothing written, nothing except memories in the living.

At that time I didn’t understand why he did not let me get it outside China, especially his experience during the Cultural Revolution. Now when I think back, I understand how much freedom of speech he had for someone in his position. He belonged to the Party, regardless how he was treated. Nowadays, you don’t often see such dedicated and self-disciplined party member.

The world has changed tremendously since his times. I wish he were still here.

P.S. My father was very proud of my writing, showing them to his comrades whenever someone came over, modest as he was elsewhere. Writing is the time when I think of him, eager to make him a proud dad. 7/12/09

I have been lately reading a book, One in Three: a son’s journey into the science and history of cancer by Adam Wishart, 2007. The author is a London-based documentary filmmaker. The title of the book implies cancer is the disease that touches the lives of one person in three. Not pleasant to know. Forget this.

The author interweaves memories of his father and the story of his father’s cancer treatment with the western medical history of this disease. To be sure, the book is very informative on the one hand, making us appreciate the advances in science and technology in medicine. On the other hand, to me, the book is more like a celebration of a wonderful relationship between a father and his son. I am touched by the growing up experience of the author and his father, a very loving, caring and positive one!

The author recalled his childhood moments with his dad, his dad’s unremitting quest to educate him; the story of Dr. John Snow’s discovery, the first piece of work on epidemiology, the story of cholear epidemic of 1854, how the father and the teenage son went to movie together, so many such intimate moments of father and son … The readers can see the definit imprint of his father’s caring work in him.

The author fondly recalled, Dad “was always telling me stories about scientists, mathematicians, and revolutionaries … From my adolescence it was our habit to stay up late and, with Mum in bed, to sit talking about these things in the kitchen table. For two men who never spoke about their feelings, our intimacy consisted in sharing our interests in politics, history, or the progress of science. If I knew history, he thought, then I might be better able to navigate through my life, because he always used the past as a way to understand his place in the world.” p. 2

“When I was a child and Dad was in his early forties, he regularly carried me up the Lakeland fells so that I might see the English landscape laid out below.” p. 215 The book abounds with anecdotes like this.

Such a beautiful picture of father and son! Such a wonderful father! There are so many things that a father and his son can do together and so many chances for them to form a loving and meaningful relationship, yet some choose doing nothing at all or abandon these chances to live a richer life. How I wish most of the dad were like the dad of this author! Dreaming again, I know. Guess what? I just discover dreaming is the most harmless activity that one can engage, only on the verge of being useless.

Spring sowing season always reminds me of the Chinese saying, Sow bean, reap bean; Sow melon, reap melon. Don’t complain if you see other people’s plate full of delicious fruits while you don’t have any. You know I am talking about parenting, don’t you? It is both similar to and different from actual spring sowing.

They all emphasize the consequence of our actions in early time. The difference lies in the fact that you can always sow next time when spring comes around and there is always next spring as long as you live. Not with parenting, sadly to say. Once the child becomes an adult, we don’t have the magic to turn back the clock.

I know of two fathers, both being long-time friends of mine. One father has a son of my son’s age, about one month younger. He sounds such a grumpy dad, never writing to me without complaining about his son. The boy either failed in school or did not go to class after the dad had paid for the tuition. His negative attitude is very discouraging.

Honestly, I don’t have patience hearing him out and don’t even want to read his emails. To garbage, it often goes. Toxic and time-wasting. I know how cantankerous I sound to be. My questions are: where were you when the boy was little? Did you spend time making sure the boy on the right track? No, nothing like this. Then, as you sow so shall you reap. Don’t act like a whining baby.

Opposite to this is another friend of mine, also from high school, in fact, the dad of the girl who wrote poems posted on 3/4, 3/7, and 3/8 of this year. His writings of the girl are thoroughly exuberant with joy and content. You can even see his smile and happiness on his face just from his writing! Well, with your imagination. I am sooo happy for him!

If you spend your time going fishing or playing games while your child is little, in formative stage, think again. You might be better off postponing fishing or gaming till your child is in college, that is, till the fall of your season. Why? For your own happiness. Are you happy with a bitter melon in the fall?

21 years ago, my father left us on July 11. He would be 79 years old if he were still here with us. Too soon, too early that he went.

An old colleague of mine talked to me about how important he felt toward his family now.  Nothing seems more important than his family with the two wonderful children.  We used to work at the same company (PHI) eight years ago.  This is the first time that we met after 8 years.

In order to spend more time with his children, he gets up at 4 AM every morning, heading for his office as soon as possible, so that he can leave for home at 2 PM and be with his children.  His face exuded joy and unspeakable happiness when he talked about his son, and with such a loving smile when he talked about his daughter. He talked with enthusiasms about saving for his children’s college cost. I love my children, but I have not gone this far for them. Shame on me.

In sharp contrast, some of the parents that I know of worked until after 10 PM, leaving their young child home alone. Later, the guilt-ridden parents tried to make up for it by providing plenty of money, satisfying the needs of the child. Now the child has graduated from a local university, feeling completely alienated from the aging parents. The parents are reasonably and hopelessly sad.  “Such an ungrateful child,” they complained. When the mom was sick and needed help because of her poor English, the child told her, “Go back to China.”  Some people gained money but lost child. 

The world would be a different place for children if we have more dads like that old colleague of mine. What a sweet dad!