Dad’s Perfect Package

A few years ago, my father arranged to send me a mail-order fruitcake at Christmas time. Although I had a good job and owned an apartment in Manhattan, he feared my refrigerator might be empty.

He ordered me a particular brand of fruitcake made in Texas. “It reminds me of my mother’s,” he told me, which I later learned was a cake typical of the Great Depression (大萧条), made without milk, sugar, butter, or eggs. On most Christmases, he received two gifts from granny: a pair of homemade socks and a small bag of oranges.

Born in 1932, Dad grew up during the Great Depression, and he believed everyone was always hungry and needed to eat. Even when we visited him in the hospital, he would ask whether we had eaten and remind us the café would be closing soon. “At least get a cup of coffee,” he’d say. “Don’t worry about me.”

Ordering the fruitcake was his way of trying to take care of me from a long distance away. Although I was 44, I was still his son. A fruitcake, in his mind, was a perfect Christmas gift: the fruitcake can fill my belly (肚子) and has a long shelf life.

The first week of December passed with no sign of his fruitcake. Delayed (耽搁) by holiday mail, I guessed. My father remained hopeful the fruitcake would come by New Year’s Eve. Yet, January, February, and March came and went with no fruitcake.

Though my father kept asking about it, I never once considered lying and telling him the fruitcake had finally arrived and was delicious. Instead I said, “That cake is orbiting (沿轨道运行) earth, and sooner or later it will land and taste even better.”

Early last December, nearly a year after my father died, I got a call from the front desk of my apartment building., “You have a package.” I went downstairs to pick it up. The brown box had a FedEx label (标签) with a return address in Texas.

Every year Mother arranged family reunions. When the whole family travelled around and stayed together, she lit the candles and said, “It is wonderful to have you here. I want you to remember that you must be good to each other. You must take care of one another in times of need. Wherever I am, I’ll have my eye on you.” I believed her.

Mother died when she was 84. After the funeral, the four of us children made a promise to continue the tradition of the reunion. The next year my husband and I decided to arrange for our first reunion. I hoped the rest of the family would agree. Although we were close, we had our troubles. I was especially worried about my brother’s wife, Gina. She was on the sensitive side and after a misunderstanding, we never spoke again.

Then, to my surprise, Gina called. She and my brother would be arriving in New York a day early to attend a meeting. “Can you join us in the city for dinner?” she asked. I thought about all the last-minute errands (差事) I had to do and said, “I don’t have time.” Gina hung up. As usual, she had taken my refusal personally.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I thought of Mother’s speech: “You must be good to each other … You must take care of one another.” I called Gina first thing the next morning. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to dinner,” I said. “I am really looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me too,” she admitted. It was a start.

The reunion turned out to be happy for everyone. Gina and I made up, and sat next to each other and talked a lot.

I remember the day when I first learned to ride a bike. It was a frightening, yet fun experience. My grandfather was the one who taught me and he helped me when I got hurt. The first time I got on a bike, I had no idea what I was doing, and just about everything went wrong. My grandfather told me to just put my feet on the pedals (脚蹬子) and start cycling. He also told me he would hold onto the back of the bike the whole time, yet he didn’t.

As soon as I started trying to balance myself, he let the bike go. I happened to look back just then. I was scared to death that I was going to fall and hurt myself. When I was scared, my mind went blank from cycling, and I just wanted to get off. I forgot how to use the brakes (车闸) and fell right off the bike. My grandfather kept encouraging me to get up and try again, and after about 15 minutes, I finally stopped crying, got up and tried again.

As soon as I started riding again, my pants got caught in the chain, and I fell flat on my face and hit my nose. My grandfather decided to call it a day and try again the next morning. The next morning I woke up brightly and early, and was very eager to try to ride my bike. My nose felt better, so I wasn’t that afraid of falling anymore.

Although I knew there were a range of difficulties on the way to mastering the skills in riding a bike, I believed I could do well with my grandfather’s help. After all, riding a bike was indeed what I wanted to do eagerly.