July was a month of travels, and my last trip started on 31 July. It was another work trip, participating in a workshop on aviation security (don’t ask) sponsored by the US’s Department of Homeland Security and the UK’s Home Office. The workshop turned out to be an intense but fun few days where I represented Britain for my first time! But the oddest part of the trip was where we would be. I would be staying in student housing on Stevens Institute campus, within spitting distance of all of our meals and work sessions, located in Hoboken, New Jersey. As far as suburbs of Manhattan goes, Hoboken is one of the closest and in recent years, it has undergone gentrification to the point where it is now a very trendy place to party. But actually, I have a much more special connection with the place. Thirty years ago, when I was merely 18 months old, my mother and I left our home in Taiwan to join my father in our first new home in the US. We stayed in student housing (Married Students’ Apartments, or MSA) at my father’s graduate school, Stevens Institute in Hoboken, New Jersey. This trip was a funny little homecoming for me. I have very vague memories of being there, mostly being in our apartment watching “The Dukes of Hazzard” with my dad’s friends’ kids. After my father graduated, we went back for visits, and my memories of the outside campus stem from those visits. One memory was being afraid of the horse in the prominent statue in the center of campus.
Visiting the horse today wasn't so scary
But back then I wasn't so sure
For me, the most memorable place on campus is the cannon at Castle Point. Not only is it an iconic symbol of Stevens, but its location also provided a great view of Manhattan’s skyline.
Me with the cannon, 2010
Me with the cannon, circa 1983
My dad with the cannon, circa 1981
It certainly was a fun walk down memory lane. Even my dad was tickled that I was heading back there. I didn’t look too hard for our old apartment, probably torn down. I saw some families around campus with toddlers running around, and it made me think “that used to be me”. I also thought about how returning there on this trip, I was about the same age my parents were when they first set foot on campus.
Besides going around my old stomping grounds, I was also reminded of days of yore when I met up with my high school buddies, E and J, over brunch. They were kind enough to come meet me for an early breakfast, and the three of us (plus J’s partner, S) relived stories about the old shows our theatre group put on (Bus Stop) and games we played (War). My life today is totally different than what I imagined when I was in high school!
I also met up with fellow Stanford psych. grad., B, and her family. She and P are new parents of cute little W, and everyone seems to be thriving! They make having a family in NYC seem not just do-able but desirable, how is that possible? B was one of the few people that I always looked forward to seeing in grad. school. She never created any drama and always had a witty comment on what was going on. I also caught up with my brother-in-law, S, and his fiancée, A. I only just saw them in Toronto, but it was great seeing them in their element, specifically S’s restaurant, Delicatessen. They made quite an impression on my fellow workshop participants who came with me to meet them. Their down to earth nature was so refreshing in The Big Apple where after I few days, I felt inordinately tense. It was lovely to see so many loved ones on one short trip!
A few days after I arrived back home, my grandmother passed away. Throughout this trip and for the last few weeks, I have been thinking of her as I knew her time was near. She figures into my life at times prominently and at other times more in the background. NaiNai is what I called her, and she was the one who instilled in me a love of calligraphy and poetry. I used to practice Chinese calligraphy in her house as a child and when I finished, she would circle the ones I did especially well. She was generous with hugs, had a beautiful nose that I hoped mine would look like one day, and played a fierce game of basketball. Her first child was a daughter, my aunt, who died before the age of 10. After my aunt, came my dad and 2 more boys, but my grandmother always had a hole in her heart from the little girl she lost. Many years later, I was the next girl born into the family. Maybe this was the reason that when I came along, she and my grandfather showered me with an overwhelming amount of love which gave me confidence, joy, and happiness. I always knew that NaiNai would accept me and that she was proud of me. I don’t know why expressing love is so hard in my family, but it is rarely said, heard, discussed. My grandparents and I speak Chinese to each other, but a few years ago for my birthday, they sent me a card and my grandmother in her elegant script had written “I love you” in large letters. Those were among her last words to me. Her love wrapped me up like a blanket, and even though she is gone, I still feel it every day.
The last time I saw her was in December 2009. It was very brief as by that point, her body and mind had deteriorated. I didn’t tell her then of our plans to start a family since we weren’t certain about it ourselves. I think she would have accepted our decision to adopt, though, and been happy for me. She would have understood that love, not blood, makes a family. She raised a family in a new country just as my parents did and just I will do. Even though she’ll never meet her great-grandson or great-granddaughter, she will touch their lives because she has touched mine. She didn’t believe there was anything after this life, but I believe she will rest easier now that she has finally rejoined her daughter. For that and for all that she has given to me, I am grateful.
