Good People Abound, Everywhere

I'm back in the States, as all my fans (!) know. It's strange not to speak Chinese everyday. No old guys on their bin lang (穦榔) buzz talking Taiwanese. No Taiwanese ladies fixing oil-laden dan bing (蛋餅; egg crepes fried in about a gallon of oil) for breakfast, saying "Your Chinese is getting a lot better." And no 7-11s, where I can always pick up a cha ye dan (茶葉蛋; hard boiled tea eggs) or two. Taiwan, I miss you.

My friend Michael, another American acupuncturist on a mission, asks me about my experience of American people since I've been back. I think for a second and realize that I haven't really been spending much time with "American people"--I've been spending time with my dear family, and I am happy to see them. But I do notice that Americans are friendly and willing to talk and joke with you, even if they don't know you, like the flight attendant on the flight back from Tokyo, joking with the passengers ("Oh, you're one of those passengers--difficult!" she joked, with a big smile.)

I must be becoming Asian, as I think, "Wow, these Americans are a little guo fen (過分; too much)." On the other hand, as I told Michael, it's refreshing.

Since I am here in Virginia visiting my mother, I find a dojo (道館) nearby where I can practice aikido. We all know, without aikido, life is not worth living. Right? And so, this evening I set off to the local dojo to practice this noble art. On the way there, I think I have missed a turn, and so I stop at a gas station to ask.

I pull up to a pump and asked the lady in front of me directions, and she kindly tells me that I have one more block to go, in other words, I am on the right track. And so, thanking her much, I get back in my car (actually, my mother's car), and try to start it.

Uh-oh. I find I can't. The battery seemed to be dead. The only thing I can hink about is that I have aikido class nearby in fifteen minutes, and need to get there. And so I decide to just park the car in the gas station's parking lot for a few hours, run to class, and come back at 9 p.m. and deal with the battery issue later.

An Indian man sees me pushing my car into the parking space and offers to help. We get it there, and he asks if I have jumper cables. I tell him no. "Do you?" I ask hopefully. Alas, he doesn't. However, a guy walking by hears us, "Did you guys say jumper cables?"

I am happy. This guy has jumper cables in his truck, and he wants to do a good deed. "Do you have cables?" I ask. "Yes," he says. I'm in luck.

In Taiwan, I always have a lucky star overhead. I find out that she hasn't abandoned me. Thanks, lucky star.

After I get my mom's car's battery charged, I profusely thank this nice tatooed man who just helped me (and his wife, too, who is in the truck) and I am off. I need to get to aikido.

I know that after I park the car and turn it off at aikido, I will have a problem later, but I don't care. I need to get to aikido, and hopefully, my lucky star will still be there during and after practice.

Thank you lucky star.

Since we are near Washington D.C., I find there are a few military people practicing. The teacher asks me where I have been practicing and I tell him I have been in Taiwan for the past year.

"State Department?" he asks.

"No, Chinese Medicine Department," I respond.

We practice, all of us aikido brothers and sisters, and like an old friend, aikido says, "Welcome back, I am always here for you." I meet new friends. I learn some things. I exercise and sweat.

After practice, I know my mom's car will need a jump start. And so, I hang around and ask if anyone has jumper cables. Surprisingly, nobody does, even the military guys. I check in my mother's car. No jumper cables.

The retired Air Force pilot says he lives nearby and would be willing to stop by his house to pick up cables. I thank him, and we head to his place and then return with a flashlight and cables.

Within five minutes, I am back on the road, back to my mother's house. It's a good welcome back to America.

There are good people everywhere.