East Asia’s Influence On My Life

A Presidential Visit To China…

East Asia has always held me in its sway and it’s influence has always run in the background of my life. I have former American President Richard Nixon and First Lady Pat Nixon to thank for that. Their 1972 diplomatic visit to China renewed interest in a country most Americans hadn’t heard about in over two decades. It sparked a bit of a firestorm among American women and they avidly followed Mrs. Nixon’s week long adventures in China. Quite a few of them became enthralled with the beauty of the East Asian world. My mother was one of them and she is to be credited with first fostering my fascination with Asia.

…Changes The Decor Of My Home

The earliest memories of my childhood home include large, red and gold lanterns hanging on either side of the black velvet sofa, all of which was framed by the accent wall of subtle bamboo print wallpaper. Standing on that expensive couch, I would run my fingers through the soft tassels of mom’s coveted lanterns, hoping she wouldn’t catch me in the act.

The living room was my mom’s domain and her love of East Asian people, culture, and art, was reflected in her Asian decorating style. Little statues of Asian fishermen or an elegant Asian couple would be nestled right up alongside Santa or Frosty the Snowman in the winter and vases of flowers or Fourth of July decorations in the summer. A cement pagoda even peeked out from among the peonies in one of the flower gardens in our yard.

The Circle Of Influence Widens

A favorite childhood treat was visiting the little Asian grocery store in the next town. It was a small store that was full of wonders. Large bags of rice were stacked neatly beneath the front windows. Beautiful teapots and gracefully curving jade dragons graced the shelves. Red and gold fabric lanterns hung from the ceiling. Their tassels swayed when you touched them. Foodstuffs and their piquant, mysterious smells wafted through the store. The exotic sounds of classical Asian music could often be heard and Mandarin words pinged back and forth between the husband and wife who owned the store. If we knew we were going to be near it, my brother and I would beg to go there.

Kept near the store register was the little boxes of Botan rice candy. This was our favorite, most eagerly anticipated thing in the store. The red and green box depicted a little Asian child or a white cat and pink flower. Inscribed across the top of each box were the words “Botan Rice Candy”. These happy, little boxes were like homing beacons that drew us unerringly.

The first time I pulled the wrapper from a piece of this candy, it confused me to find a second wrapper underneath. My fingers busily tried to peel off this second covering . The little Asian lady who owned the store said, “Eat the paper. It’s rice!” I tentatively put the candy in my mouth. The second wrapper magically melted away and I chewed the sweet, slightly orange flavored candy in wide-eyed astonishment. What magic was this?! My seven year old self decided that East Asian people were definitely worth noticing if they made paper you eat. Bonus points that a little toy or sticker came in each box.

What School (Didn’t Know It) Taught Me About East Asia

My beloved kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Sze, was a native of Hong Kong. She and her husband came to America when communism spawned the Cultural Revolution in China. Mrs. Sze never failed to encourage. She was little in stature, but mighty in spirit. Her energy was boundless. Her Cantonese accent would often flavor her English words. If I became Dan-a instead of Dana and Marcus became Muck-us, we still knew who she was talking to. All of the children could understand her perfectly. The Chinese way of showing respect for elders was expected behavior in her classroom. Therefore, she kindly, but firmly, corrected anyone who didn’t exhibit it.

Mrs. Sze taught me many things, but I think the most important thing was something she taught inadvertently. My classmates and I all knew Mrs. Sze was from another country. She told the class this the first day. I saw the physical differences and she explained the cultural ones. By the end of the school year I only recognized the sameness. My tears were real when I realized Mrs. Sze would not be my teacher the following school year. Oh, Mrs. Sze, would that I could say thank you for teaching me the most important lesson you never knew you taught. In the iconic words of Depeche Mode, people are people.

The Little Details Add Up

The amazing thing is that I grew up in a little town in Maryland, about 30 minutes northeast of Baltimore city. In the 1970s and 1980s, there wasn’t a lot of diversity in little Joppatowne. It was predominantly Caucasian, with a smattering of African-Americans, and an even smaller smattering of Asians. In my graduating high school class of 179 people, exactly one was Asian. Yes, I did actually pull my yearbook out and fact check this one.

We lived near a military base, and it is this that drew in what diversity we did have. The little Asian grocery store existed to serve the Asians working at this military base. Even so, we certainly didn’t have the demographics that exist in a lot of America today. It is remarkable, then, that I can recount Asian influence in my life despite the lack of Asians. Perhaps it was Divine Providence that gave me a love for Asian people and culture and orchestrated all of this from the very beginning.

From The Past To The Present

All through my growing up and adult years, I naturally, if unconsciously, gravitated towards things of an Asian bent. I would buy a shirt or piece of art with Mandarin characters on it, use chopsticks in college instead of a fork, or date a boy in my college Geology class who was of Japanese descent.

I continue to use chopsticks, as does my daughter, and have a mason jar filled with about 15 pairs of them. Feng Shui principles guide my home decorations and color schemes. I even have the recommended shade of yellow on my west-facing front door. Anime films and series are among some of my favorite entertainment and reading manga is something I enjoy. I find my heart drawn towards the family in my church with seven adopted Asian children, and I’m sure that through the years more than one Asian person has wondered why the crazy woman was smiling at them.

The Taiwanese Influence

Ten months ago, I suddenly noticed the gentle, lifelong hold East Asia has on me is blossoming into something I never expected. I am learning Mandarin, watching Taiwanese, Chinese, and Korean movies and TV, listening to KPOP, Mandopop, and various Asian musicians and bands, and most particularly, learning about Taiwan. Although there is no defining moment when my love of all things Asian began, I can pinpoint exactly when all of it stepped from the background, literally through my yellow front door, and into the foreground of my life: The day a 17 year old Taiwanese young man came to pick my daughter up for the homecoming dance and handed me a rose before also giving her a rose and corsage.

Joseph is an international student attending the same school as my daughter. He transferred in to her school at the beginning of their 11th grade year. I first heard his name when Chloe told me about a trip to the local shopping district with a group of school friends that included “a boy named Joseph”. What I didn’t know at the time was that Chloe was already interested in this young man and was likely testing out the waters of parental approval by talking about him.

One Flower Later

There was no further mention of Joseph until a few months later when she informed me that she was going to the homecoming dance with him. Because she had asked him. And he was East Asian, by the way. Really? Huh. I looked at my quietly careful daughter after this startling revelation and acknowledged her bravery by asking, “Wait. Who are you?!” I was suddenly very curious to meet Joseph. To say I was utterly disarmed and astonished when he handed me that flower is the understatement of the year. As I later told him, “Well played, young man!” He is respectful, often loud, intelligent, funny, an amazing cook, and a person who has overcome and adapted to a lot just to be where he is. That he’s East Asian is an added bonus. That he is Taiwanese is all the better, I’m quickly finding out.

The East Asian Journey Continues

I have no idea where all this is going, but God does so I’ll trust Him with the details and keep my eyes wide open so I can absorb as many of those details as possible. I’ve decided to continue writing as I forge ahead on my journey through the East Asian world. I’ll give my respectful, Gen X perspective and observations, for what they’re worth, on the things I come across. Its OK that I don’t know exactly where my writing or journey will go. I think part of the fun of any kind of travel, whether literal or figurative, is the unexpected things you experience and people you meet along the way. So if you’re ready to join me, buckle up, because this flight is ready for departure.

Discussion: Have you ever met someone and found your life altered in ways you didn’t expect? What did you do? How did it turn out?