Category: Memoir

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October

Growing up, October was my favorite month of the year.  There were many national holidays—which meant fewer school days.  The first one was Double-Ten (10/10, 雙十節), commemorating the revolutionary uprising in Wuchang (武昌), overturning the Qing Dynasty.  Then, there was Taiwan Retrocession Day (臺灣光復節) on October 25, celebrating the end of Japanese colonization.  At the end of the month, festive events took place on President Chiang Kai-shek’s birthday.  We studied the historical significance of these holidays at school.  But, to a child, the colorful street decorations, parades and fireworks were what made the month special.

Every year, toward the end of September, there would be heightened security around the Presidential Office Building as celebratory signs and observatory stage were being constructed.  Elaborated traditional style arches were erected on major streets nearby.  In the evening, decorative lighting made everything glow splendidly.  We would always plan an evening outing to see the illuminated decorations.

On our nation’s birthday, there would always be a military parade.  These parades never as robotic and threatening as the North Korean parades, and not entertaining as Macy’s Thanksgiving parades.  Yet, they never failed to impress the observers.  We never watched the parades in person.  We did get to see tanks and armored vehicles passing our streets on their way to military bases—imposing images that would last for a lifetime.

We almost never missed a chance to see the fireworks.  To gain a clear view, we would visit friends or relatives who lived in high-rise buildings.  We would have a firework-watching party on the rooftop or on the balcony.  Us kids not only wanted the fireworks to be higher, bigger and more colorful then the previous years, we also wanted them to last longer.  We would time the program from the beginning to the end.

Taiwan has gone through series of political changes since my childhood.  The “retrocession” of Taiwan has become a controversial topic.  Living on the other side of the pond, I still treasure the beautiful memories of October celebrations.

And, October is still my favorite month of the year.  Autumn harvest and foliage make October one of the most colorful times of the year.  For gardeners, October means time for the bulbs to be planted and seeds to be sown for the next year.  October sun is always golden, warm and gentle.

During my first autumn in Ohio, when the leaves started to turn red, orange and gold, I couldn’t stop collecting them, pressing them under books and putting them in letters that I sent home.  Occasionally, I still find them in my books.  When mom stayed with me in late 1990s, we would go to nearby farm fields for pumpkins.  She was always amused by the abundance of the crop, the size and shape of the large squashes, and their golden color.  We would take weekend trips through the valleys of Ohio for autumn foliage.  Mom enjoyed the reflections of beautiful colors in waters the most.  She never got tired of snapping photos autumn leaves.  Sometimes, we would go to Amish country for apples and cider.  Mom and I also made long road trips to the Great Smoky Mountains and New England Coast for foliage.

Autumn colors always arrive late in New York City.  This year, with the warmer temperature, the leaves seem even more reluctant to let go of their greenness.  I wait patiently for their action.

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Old Fù (老傅)

This entry is part 25 of 28 in the series Goldfish

New York subway is the most direct and convenient way in and out of my neighborhood. Other than last-minute schedule changes or going to the airports, I rarely use hired vehicles, be it yellow cabs, black sedan or Uber.

When we were little, there were very few privately owned cars. Buses were reliable and affordable. Whenever necessary, one could hail a cycle rickshaw (三輪車, three-wheel vehicle) to get around town. Cycle rickshaws are hybrids of tricycles and old-fashion rickshaws. They could seat two adults comfortably. But it wouldn’t be too hard to squeeze a child in between. For my family to ride together, mom or dad would hold Little Cop on her or his lap.

In addition to street-pickup, there were informal hubs of rickshaws in every neighborhood. My family used the service of one driver regularly. Old Fù was medium-build, skinny and dark-skinned. His large eyes and high cheekbones gave him a very striking but sincere appearance. He talked energetically but never in a hurry. From his accent, one could tell that he was a Mainlander, most likely a veteran. He took us to special events, to our pediatrician and, from time to time, to our extra-curriculum activities.

As a third grader, I began full-day schooling. It was customary for kids to bring their lunches in metal lunchboxes. The boxes would be collected in the morning; steamed and brought back to the classroom at lunchtime. Since not all foods would taste good after reheating, many stay-at-home moms would prepare special lunchbox dishes the night before or in the morning. My mother had an even better idea! She would make fresh items, put them in a lunchbox or a soup container, and ask Old Fù to deliver them to me at lunch time. I remember clearly walking to the school backyard. Old Fù would pass my lunch to me over the low brick fence with a big smile on his face. However, my steaming hot wonton soup and other items in strange-looking containers would, sometimes, make my classmates turn their heads.

I couldn’t remember how long my “Fresh Direct” lasted. On June 25, 1968, Taipei City banned the use of rickshaws completely. Although the government had plans and funding to help the drivers transitioning into other lines of work, many of them fell on hard times. I didn’t know what happen to Fù. . .. Did he become a taxi driver? Did he retire? Although, strictly speaking, our connections with Old Fù was simple business transactions, for many years, he was part of our lives. I owed him a big THANK-YOU personally.