We held my father’s viewing today. Many people attended. Dad looked very good, lying in the casket. The Lindquist Mortuary in Kaysville, Utah manager, Norris R. Nalder, personally prepared his body. The Nalder family members have ran the mortuary for as long as I can remember. Norris’s father managed the business when my grandparents died, and prepared their bodies. It is a true talent that they possess in ensuring that the bodies look more like their sleeping than dead. Throughout the viewing, I couldn’t help but wonder if Dad would sit up at any moment and yell “Surprise!” That would have been a real shocker and certainly induced some heart attacks amongst the senior citizen attendees, resulting in more business for the Nalder family.
Dad didn’t sit up, though. He just peacefully lay there while throngs of people passed by him to pay their last respects. Those who came were a diverse crowd, for Dad positively affected many peoples’ lives in his brief 75 years of mortality. The viewing room was filled beyond capacity. At times, people lined up outside in the foyer, waiting to get in. My mother had directed us, Dad’s immediate family members, to mingle amongst the crowd. This plan quickly changed, given the great number of people who attended the viewing. We quickly formed a receiving line, so that everyone could give their condolences. That moved it along pretty quickly and all were in and out in a matter of a few minutes after that.
The majority of those who came to the viewing were lifelong friends of Dad’s. I lost count of how many of them said they knew my father from his schooldays. Several of the men said that they played sports with Dad: baseball, football, and basketball. Others told me stories of how Dad helped them build things, everything from their houses, to add-ons, to tool sheds. Still others knew Dad from his service in Church, he having been in the bishopric of our LDS ward and on to a high councilman. Some of them I had never seen before. Some of them I hadn’t seen for years. From the latter group, I usually recognized the faces, but couldn’t place the names or the specifics of their identities.
My childhood friend, Kenny Colemere, attended the viewing. I am embarrassed to admit that I didn’t recognize him when he approached me. He reached out his hand and introduced himself. I was shocked. He appeared very different from the last time I’d seen him, some 25 years ago. However, after speaking with him about his life since then, I looked into his eyes and realized it was him. For some reason, his eyes impressed upon me that this was the friend who I had spent countless hours with throughout my childhood. We exchanged pleasantries and generalities about our years apart and then Kenny said he had something important to apologize to me for.
No more than two weeks ago, I had been discussing an event in my childhood with my wife, Shu Mei. It involved an incident where I was extremely angry at my friends, Kenny and Curt. I was so angry that I lay in the weeds beside the road with a stick, as they road their bikes toward me, one behind the other. When they grew near to me, I jumped up and swung the stick like a baseball bat at them. For some unknown reason, the stick went up and over their heads, barely missing them. Since that time, I have felt very guilty about the incident. I mean, I could have killed them! Luckily, I didn’t, though. I told Shu Mei that I had racked my brain for several years, trying to remember what it was that caused me to be so angry. I couldn’t remember, though.
The “something important” that Kenny had referred to was about that happening. He said that he had carried around with him a great guilt all these years for what he and Curt had done to me one day. According to him, I had caught a bunch of grasshoppers and was keeping them in some jars in the garage. He and Curt snuck into the garage and smashed the jars, freeing all the grasshoppers. When I discovered this, I was furious and chased them away. Then, I surprised them from the side of the street, swinging a “bamboo stick” at them as they rode their bikes down the street. Kenny said that he carried a deep remorse with him all these past years for having done that to me. I explained to him that I, too, had felt great sorrow for my actions that day. I hope that the sincerity of my apology lifted the weight of his burden as much as his did mine. In the end, it was just a childish happening and something neither of us should have harbored all these years. Funny how little things can stick with us for so long. I wished him well in all his future endeavors and he did likewise. I’d like to see him again soon and catch up more on past, but that’s most-likely not going to happen. I am glad, though, that we settled that little bit of nonsense, though.
My good friend Jeff Apgood also attended the viewing. Opposed to Kenny, Jeff and I have maintained contact since we attended high school together. Sadly, we stopped communicating after the election of President Obama. During that presidential campaign, our emails got fairly serious about the issues surrounding it. We were polar opposites on most of the issues, Jeff tending toward the conservative viewpoint and I toward the liberal viewpoint. Unintentionally, I may have gotten overzealous in my explanation about why I viewed things the way I did. Consequently, Jeff quit sending me email as soon as Obama won the election. To be honest, I never sent email to him either. This may have been another misunderstanding, similar to that between Kenny and I. I took Jeff’s silence to mean that he was personally offended by my remarks in those email messages and just harbored ill feelings toward me. He may have thought the same was true about how I felt. No matter what the truth is, we spoke and decided to get together this week. Hopefully, we can put our political differences aside and realize that we are, indeed, good friends. He is a really good guy and would do the world for anyone. I will do my best to avoid offending him by bringing up politics.
I also met briefly with David Barnes, a friend of mine from my youth. I hadn’t communicated with David since he was one of my best men at my first wedding (along with Jeff and Ramon Zabriskie). That was well over 20 years ago. However, the years have not affected Dave as much as they have the rest of us. For the most part, he still looks the same. His wife, who I had never met before, also attended Dad’s viewing. I could tell right off that they were meant for each other. Their personalities jelled well together. Don’t get me wrong, they don’t have the same kind of character, but they just seem to compliment each other well. I think they have a lot of fun together. I gave David my email address and hope he communicates with me.
I can’t understand why people still read this weblog. I mean, it is so full of doom-and-gloom that I don’t believe it would be interesting to anyone. However, there are some diehard readers that have sent me email, letting me know that they’re still reading my entries here. It isn’t my goal, but this entry should be the final nail in the coffin and serve to lose all of them. I appreciate all the words of encouragement that I’ve received, and I think that through reading my weblog entries, some people have come to understand me better than some of family members and closest friends. However, a lot of things have been brewing up inside of me for a while, and I am set to make the mother of all negative weblog entries now. Obviously, nobody has the desire to read about a lot of depressing notions. Besides, I am certain that this will turn out to be an extremely lengthy entry and will undoubtedly bore the pants off of anyone attempting to read it.
As I stated, I’ve had a lot of inner angst lately. I use the word “lately” liberally here, for this pervasive sadness has accompanied me for several years. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I was happy for very long. Certainly, there were moments, like when my sons were born, but no long drawn-out periods of great bliss. For the most part, each day has been worse than the day preceding it. I have a lot to be thankful for certainly. I just tend to lood at the cup as being half empty rather than half full.
Last summer’s happening is a perfect example of this. That is when I found myself without a job. I had been working as a high school teacher for five years at Chih-yung High School in Dajia. The high school is a mere 15-minute drive from my home in Cingshuei. Although the high school is at the lowest-possible academic level (i.e., anyone can enter, irregardless of their high school entrance test scores), I tolerated it, choosing to focus on improving my techno-skills in presenting multimedia lessons to the students with the latest gadgetry. I was fortunate to have a fairly modern listening lab as my classroom, complete with headsets, monitors, and testing consoles for all the students. I strived to use the latest electronic presentation means I could get my hands on to incorporate in my teaching. As time went on, I learned a lot about the various media I was using and felt at ease using it in my classroom. I felt very positive about the things I was doing. It came as a big surprise at the end of last school year, when I was notified that my contract would not be renewed for the next school year. The shock of that news stressed me out immensely.
Friends and family members tried to convince me that it was a good thing. I can’t tell you how many times people told me the “one door closes, another door opens” line. However, I couldn’t get past the unfairness of the whole thing. In my mind, I had been a very good teacher there. The school administration had never had a problem with me. On the contrary, I was given high-praise various times during my time there. No reason was provided to me as to why I wasn’t welcome there for a sixth year of teaching. It was just told to me that the Principal (and part-owner of the school) ordered it to be that way. At the time, there was one other foreign teacher there. He did not return the next school year, either. However, it was by choice that he didn’t return, opting instead to return to his homeland of New Zealand. In the next school year, only one foreign teacher worked there. I don’t know how the school felt about him, but suspect he was probably treated equally as bad, too.
The things I had to deal with at Chih-yung were troubling. Much of it led to my belief that there is racism in Taiwan. I could find no other answer to the questions that arose as to why that school mistreated me like that. From the beginning, the administration there treated us as inferior employees, choosing to not involve us in every teacher meeting and social event. We were not monitored in the least. I could have been teaching Portuguese, instead of English, for all they knew. I never once had a review. Despite that, I endeavored to be the best English teacher I could be. I tried everything to reach those under-achieving students that attended Chih-yung. My actions ran the gamut from severe punishments to over-the-top praise in order to get results from the students there. It was all to no avail, though. They had already been burned out to the point of not caring far before I began teaching them. Sadly, the system made them only worse. The best teacher in the world couldn’t have ignited a fire under them.
I asked the school administration how I was doing several times. Despite the fact that they really had no idea, they told me I was doing a great job. There was never much communication beyond that. Our classrooms were as far away from the administration’s office as they could be, at the top of a 6-story building in the corner of the campus. We learned about special happenings from the students. Often times, we learned that our classes had been canceled only when students didn’t show up. Rarely was there ever any advance notice of events. We were given a schedule at the beginning of the semester, but changes were common and updates were not. Still, whenever the school needed a teaching demonstration or a picture for their recruiting paraphernalia, they came to us. During my last year at Chih-yung, I gave a teaching demonstration which was attended by all the English department teachers, save one. The head teacher didn’t attend. Neither did anyone else from management. I was later told that it went very well. It was at that time when I began wondering about my future with the school. Why were they praising me from hearsay, instead of actually experiencing my demonstration for themselves? Little did I know that my concerns were not without warrant.
I guess that Chih-yung High School’s administration was tolerating me just like I was tolerating them. Their tolerance was a bit less than mine, though, as
those who readily gave me praise, before it was decided that my contract would not be renewed, gave me the cold shoulder, after. I don’t know what had been going on behind closed doors, only what I saw – an abrupt change in how I was treated. Those who I thought were supportive of me there treated me as their worst enemy, once the decision came down that I was no longer welcome. Needless to say, it wasn’t a pleasant farewell. I still harbor bitter feelings for how I was treated there.
My wife, Shu Mei, was not supportive during that point. The truth is that she has never been supportive when I really needed it. (I hesitated to use the word “never” but couldn’t think of one instance where sought-after support was received from Shu Mei.) This is a very cold, harsh fact, because I feel confident that I have given her the support she wants during times of turmoil. For example, I encouraged her to have faith in our marriage repeatedly during our first year of marriage. I needed to. Otherwise, we would have been divorced. It was during that first year that Shu Mei asked for a divorce six different times, because I voiced disagreement with her. Four of those six times weren’t even what could be classified arguments, just disagreements. To Shu Mei, a simple disagreement by me was cause for divorce. With Shu Mei, it is either her way or the highway.
Shu Mei possesses an over-abundance of stubbornness and selfishness. As long as I agree with her, everything is fine. The second I utter a word contrary to what she is saying, things get very messy. Typically, Shu Mei will get very upset and shut down. She has gone four or five days without saying a thing to me. When I try to break her silent treatment, with encouraging words, she goes into a very hating tirade, verbally assaulting me with a barrage of put-downs, followed by a demand for a divorce. With Shu Mei, there is no gray area, only black or white. The last time we had a disagreement, she told me that I am an ugly man and she hated everything about me. This kind of mistreatment has been going on for seven years. All the while, I have hoped that she could see that all is not so terrible, but I am finding it increasingly difficult to continue doing that.
Much of the difficulty I continue to face with Shu Mei stems from our background differences. A lot of our background comes from culture, but the brunt of it comes from how we were raised. Shu Mei seems to be continuing in the same manner as her parents did, while I am venturing away from some of the things mine did. Shu Mei was raised in a bizarre family, from my perspective. Her father is the quintessential man’s man. He has the demeanor of a prideful king, choosing to socialize with those on his same economic level and no one else. According to Shu Mei, he only spoke to his wife and two sons, ignoring his two daughters altogether. That condition remains to this day. If my wife calls his house and he answers the phone, he simply hands the phone to his wife and doesn’t speak to Shu Mei. When we attend social functions at his house, it is the same. He literally disavows the existence of his two daughters. Shu Mei says that he shows his acceptance and love for them in other ways. He has given them material things in their life. Shu Mei claims that she has had no problem with that situation. At first, I didn’t believe she could feel that way, but now I’m inclined to think she’s being honest. In fact, she has assimilated that atmosphere into our family, with her taking the role and temperament of her father.
In the precious few seconds between deep slumber and the awakening consciousness that comes when one emerges from naptime lies a peaceful solitude. It is at that time when one feels the warm emotions of a world where things are the way they ought to be. Inevitably, that joyous slice of heaven is erased by stark reality as soon as complete consciousness takes over, a reminder that the world is as imperfect as ever. Such was the case when I woke up from an afternoon nap this fine Saturday afternoon.
As I emerged from the veil that shrouded my unconscious thoughts during deep sleep, my mind settled momentarily upon a hazy vision where all was well and problems of the past were no more. I basked in the warm serenity of that mental picture as long as I was allowed to, before complete consciousness took over. For a fleeting moment, I felt that a truce had been called between all the past conflicting manners in my life.
My thoughts touched upon harmonious situations. I envisioned speaking with my ex-wife, Tara, about the fact that I’m not such a bad person, as she portrays me to be, and she believed me. I then reasoned with my current wife, Shu Mei, that yelling and physically punishing our sons is not beneficial to their future progression and she believed me. After that, I met with my sons. Cameron and I had a brief encounter in which he really understood that I loved and cared about him, and we both mourned for the time lost in which we had not relationship, but vowed to remain close forever more. Finally, I spoke with Billy and Tyley together, for they are the closest of brothers, and they understood that everything I say to them comes from love, with my only desire being for them to be happy.
By design, all of those fictitious encounters happened almost instantaneously, for I knew that it would all be over in a flash. Sure enough, as soon as I had reached an accord with my second and third son, the sound of Shu Mei broke through the haze. She was yelling at Billy and Tyley to pick up their toys. She threatened them with a spanking if they didn’t. I tried to return to the utopia I’d just experienced, but the piercing tones of Chinese cut through the air like a knife. She Mei was shrieking at the boys in her native tongue, which is something she reserves for the worst of her verbal assaults, as she feels it hides her juvenile behavior when dealing with the boys during times of stress.
Unable to return to the peace I had briefly experienced in a mental world that didn’t exist, I tried to pull it into the world that did. I got up and left the bedroom and headed to the computer room, where Shu Mei was sitting, surfing the internet. I tried to enter into a discussion with her about Cameron, petitioning her as to why she thought it was Tara had brainwashed him into believing I was a terrible person all these years. Ever the one to not let an opportunity for degradation go by without a comment, Shu Mei said, “It must have been something you did.” I’ve learned to let these kinds of frequent comments go, like water off a duck’s back. Instead of protesting that supposition, I tried to change the subject to Billy and Tyley, and my feelings as to how they should be handled with positive reinforcement, rather than negative lambasting.
No more had the mention of this left my mouth than Shu Mei got up and left the room, me in mid-sentence. She knew what the subject matter I was trying to raise would be and she wanted no part of it. I had tried to discuss this matter with her many times before, and she has stubbornly refused to listen. I guess that Shu Mei has always had difficulty with being compliant and humble. Her stubborn and selfish nature is a definite blockage to her progression. Luckily, she excels in other areas, which balances out those two character flaws to the point where they are often unnoticeable. Sometimes, like this particular time, there is no denying them, though.
With reality swinging into motion, I went about the rest of my day. Although I yearned for things to be as they were in those precious moments, common sense told me that they never would be. It takes a great deal of effort to unravel the misconceptions that permeate through the minds of people one encounters. Even then, there has to be willingness on the part of those people for any progress to be made. Therein lies the great stumbling block, one that is certainly a permanent fixture of the real world.