A New World

Into San Francisco I cruised yesterday with the gentleman who is sharing his life's story with me. No need for a GPS, as the boy who grew up in Chinatown still knows his way around like the back of his hand. He took me right down to the heart of Chinatown which is now a one-way street. The narrow sidewalks are bustling with activity and people...sometimes spilling over into the streets.

My heart was thumping as I carefully navigated the road, though traffic was relatively light since it was mid-day. The lanterns swayed overhead and the lucky color red decorated most shop fronts as Fred chatted. A few more turns and we arrived at the parking garage. We rode the elevator up and exited at a park in the heart of the Chinatown.

Clusters of men were everywhere talking animatedly with words I didn't understand. As we walked, I discovered they were playing games on top of makeshift cardboard tables--some with a deck of cards and others with intricate Chinese pieces. Fred had told me the Chinese love to gamble and play games, and here was the proof.

By my side, Fred was trying out his new cane. Well, it isn't really new, as he has had it for 3 years, as I discovered when he informed me he was using it for the second day. He was too proud for a cane before, but his balance is increasingly tottery. I had encouraged him to think about taking it out after he confided last week the doctor told him it is time to use a cane.

He didn't want his wife to know--"you know how women are. She sold my car when 'they' decided I shouldn't drive anymore". That is what I love about Fred he just tells it like it is. He doesn't embellish his stories or enhance them. Of course, he will also admit, "It was probably time, but even then I would wait until she left and drive her car."

Anyway, Fred informed me that all important information in Chinatown can be learned in the park. It is the unofficial center of town. Of course, it wasn't so fancy 95 years ago.

The old Chinese man garnered instant respect on the sidewalks. He walked very slowly uphill using his cane. He refused to stop until he reached the end of the block. The hills are steep here. Very steep. As he rested I gazed into the store windows. When he was ready we turned and headed down another block.

Then he proclaimed, "We are here."

I couldn't see anything. He pointed to an opening in a building that led to a recessed door. A restaurant.

"I am bringing you in the back way," he grinned.

We walked through the bar and into the dining room that overlooked the street of Chinatown. Utterly delighted, I was seated by a window. Fred could see my excitement and he asked me if I knew what I wanted to eat. I assured him I had no idea. Eyes twinkling, he asked if I liked dim sum. I have only had it once with friends who were visiting. Luckily I knew that the oldest person at the table orders from a selection of food that is presented throughout the meal. I sat back and let Fred take care of the details. The waitress initially presented the options in English but quickly slipped into her first language and I realized it was the first time I had heard Fred speak Cantonese. The food was delightful. Fred poured my tea and we talked.

The restaurant is the oldest in Chinatown. Fred suspected it must be nearly 100 years old. When he was a boy, on rare occasions his mother would send him to this very restaurant (different owners) for dim sum. Carefully clutching the money she gave him, he would dash up the block and bring back the food. It was special treat, and he delighted at the memory.

The alley street he was born on intersected at the restaurant...and it was only 1/2 block away. We drank more tea. As the meal ended, the waitress handed Fred the check. Obviously, it was his role.

Back on the street, I could see people studying me, as I moved slowly and carefully beside Fred, I am sure they were wondering what my relationship to him was. Granddaughter? But I don't look Asian. I could almost see their thoughts.

Anyway, we paused on the sidewalk in front of the building where he grew up. He explained how the store had two big windows and a center door. He pointed to the second floor where they lived. Two more stories towered overhead for more tenants.

He mentioned playing in the streets as a boy...we were the "commercial street gang" he reminisced with a smile and shake of his head. I know sometimes he was caught in his own memories as he paused leaning on his cane. He was stepping back in time, and though I was curious about his thoughts, I did not interrupt.

Then we walked by the clothing factory where his mother worked for many years.

Suddenly, we were back at the park again. Fred definitely knows all the routes around Chinatown. He hasn't forgotten anything in the years he has been away. He is still a boy here. Once again we meandered through the small gatherings of men playing games. I suspect they talked about me too.

Back in the car, Fred could rest as he directed me to the Chinese Historical Society Museum. It is a small museaum, and and he spotted a parking spot nearby. He decided I was good luck because parking spots are rare.

We browsed the museum together, and sometimes he paused to rest. Then I suggested I would bring the car to the front where an area was designated for pick-up and and drop-off. He told me he wouldn't argue, as it was uphill to the car. As I hiked up the hill and climbed into the car and navigated the light, he leaned against a low brick window ledge and rested. When I arrived, he was joined by another gentleman. He too leaned on a cane, but he had a long white beard. As Fred moved forward at my approach the other gentleman bid him farewell. As Fred climbed into the car, I told him I couldn't leave him anywhere and he would find trouble.

He laughed and told me, "That was interesting. That man stopped and asked me how old I was. I told him. Then he told me he was 90. Just a baby!"

Two old Chinese men leaning against the red brick building in the shade next to the narrow sidewalk. Lives that have seen so many changes in our world.

As we arrived at home, I suspect Fred was tired, but he was happy. He thanked me for the day. "It has been at least 10 years since I visited Chinatown. My wife (10 years his junior) doesn't drive in the city, but she isn't a very good driver." Pragmatic again. Just telling me how it is.

I learn so much from this man.

I asked him if he would go again because I want him to take me on a driving tour to show me his high school and the Barbaury Coast where he delivered newspapers.

Enthusiastically, he told me, "You tell me when," and added, "We can go another place for lunch too."

Chinatown is home to him, and a whole new world for me. Together we will explore.



PS...somehow my camera card wasn't in my camera...and thus all my photos are non-existent...hopefully next time...