working menial jobs just to cover living expenses. My days are spent discussing politics and shouting for reform. The Republican Party provides a forum for exhibiting one’s debating talent. It is best suited for those who love the sound of their own voices.
I fear I am turning into a teahouse revolutionary. Increasingly, I am aware of how different I am from my comrades. They have been scholars and students all their lives. I have learned much in the last two years, but at heart I am still a girl from the small town of Chin-kiang. I have lived outside the world of books. I have worked, sometimes only to put food in my stomach. It has made me impatient with idealists and dreamers, however well intentioned. Many of my comrades can’t be prevented from rushing to their own destruction. How can they save their country when they themselves are lost?
You have written to suggest that I “meet people where they are.” I am trying. I have always envied your ability to find healing in people’s very presence. You see humanity and kindness in all people. I see the same thing only rarely. Your mother is an example.
You are a different creature than your parents. I understood when you said that you “live in many mansions.” I am trying to bring down the walls of my own culture. Being a Chinese woman, I am prone to certain sentiments. I try not to be as sour as our famous Chin-kiang brown vinegar. I love my country, so much so that I hate her for not being all I want her to be.
I am thinking about establishing a local newspaper when I return to Chin-kiang. I am counting on your contributions.
Love ,
Willow
C HAPTER 11
The Nanking railroad station had stood as a witness to wars and sorrow. Built in 1894, it had gone through destruction and restoration several times. The station had a small waiting room and a ticket booth.
Carie wasn’t really healthy enough to travel, but she wanted to be there when Pearl got off the train. The prospect of hosting her daughter’s wedding had given her new energy.
The manager of the train station was a Christian. He invited Carie to rest inside his little ticket booth. “Although it is March, madame, the cold air outside might make you sick.”
Carie didn’t want to go inside until the man told her that the train was going to be late.
We waited. After two and a half hours, we heard the sound of the approaching train. Excited, I ran outside.
The old steam engine puffed smoke and made terrifying sounds. My heart raced in anticipation. It had been four years since Pearl and I had last seen each other. I knew that I was not the same person she had left behind. I wore a fashionable navy blue jacket with a low collar and a matching skirt. I had on a pair of black leather boots.
The train came to a stop. Passengers started to come out. I spotted my friend instantly, although something felt amiss. It had never occurred to me before that Pearl was a foreigner. She stood out among the Chinese crowd. She was accompanied by Lossing Buck, who was tall and brown-haired. I watched Pearl search the crowd, and her eyes stopped on me.
“Willow, is that you?” Pearl cried. “I can barely recognize you, a fashionable Shanghai lady!”
“Pearl!” I embraced her. “This is you—I’m not dreaming!”
Pearl turned around and introduced Lossing Buck.
We shook hands, but my eyes wouldn’t leave Pearl. Her blue jacket and tight skirt made her look like a model in a Western magazine. The design of her clothes showed that she was proud of her full figure. I remembered that she used to feel awkward about her developing breasts.
Lossing was about Pearl’s age, twenty-six years old. He had a long face with a big square jaw. He had a thin-lipped mouth and a high nose. His large eyes were deep set and brown. He was friendly and apologized that he didn’t speak Chinese.
“Where is Mother?” Pearl asked.
“She is in the ticket booth waiting for—” Before I finished the sentence, I saw Pearl’s
I fear I am turning into a teahouse revolutionary. Increasingly, I am aware of how different I am from my comrades. They have been scholars and students all their lives. I have learned much in the last two years, but at heart I am still a girl from the small town of Chin-kiang. I have lived outside the world of books. I have worked, sometimes only to put food in my stomach. It has made me impatient with idealists and dreamers, however well intentioned. Many of my comrades can’t be prevented from rushing to their own destruction. How can they save their country when they themselves are lost?
You have written to suggest that I “meet people where they are.” I am trying. I have always envied your ability to find healing in people’s very presence. You see humanity and kindness in all people. I see the same thing only rarely. Your mother is an example.
You are a different creature than your parents. I understood when you said that you “live in many mansions.” I am trying to bring down the walls of my own culture. Being a Chinese woman, I am prone to certain sentiments. I try not to be as sour as our famous Chin-kiang brown vinegar. I love my country, so much so that I hate her for not being all I want her to be.
I am thinking about establishing a local newspaper when I return to Chin-kiang. I am counting on your contributions.
Love ,
Willow
C HAPTER 11
The Nanking railroad station had stood as a witness to wars and sorrow. Built in 1894, it had gone through destruction and restoration several times. The station had a small waiting room and a ticket booth.
Carie wasn’t really healthy enough to travel, but she wanted to be there when Pearl got off the train. The prospect of hosting her daughter’s wedding had given her new energy.
The manager of the train station was a Christian. He invited Carie to rest inside his little ticket booth. “Although it is March, madame, the cold air outside might make you sick.”
Carie didn’t want to go inside until the man told her that the train was going to be late.
We waited. After two and a half hours, we heard the sound of the approaching train. Excited, I ran outside.
The old steam engine puffed smoke and made terrifying sounds. My heart raced in anticipation. It had been four years since Pearl and I had last seen each other. I knew that I was not the same person she had left behind. I wore a fashionable navy blue jacket with a low collar and a matching skirt. I had on a pair of black leather boots.
The train came to a stop. Passengers started to come out. I spotted my friend instantly, although something felt amiss. It had never occurred to me before that Pearl was a foreigner. She stood out among the Chinese crowd. She was accompanied by Lossing Buck, who was tall and brown-haired. I watched Pearl search the crowd, and her eyes stopped on me.
“Willow, is that you?” Pearl cried. “I can barely recognize you, a fashionable Shanghai lady!”
“Pearl!” I embraced her. “This is you—I’m not dreaming!”
Pearl turned around and introduced Lossing Buck.
We shook hands, but my eyes wouldn’t leave Pearl. Her blue jacket and tight skirt made her look like a model in a Western magazine. The design of her clothes showed that she was proud of her full figure. I remembered that she used to feel awkward about her developing breasts.
Lossing was about Pearl’s age, twenty-six years old. He had a long face with a big square jaw. He had a thin-lipped mouth and a high nose. His large eyes were deep set and brown. He was friendly and apologized that he didn’t speak Chinese.
“Where is Mother?” Pearl asked.
“She is in the ticket booth waiting for—” Before I finished the sentence, I saw Pearl’s
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