It was a hot summer day with clear blue sky. The bride wore a casual and elegant white dress, with a belt of royal blue ribbons. Her oval face was under a transparent white hat, with a wide brim. Simplicity and down to earth was Susan’s preferred style, and she looked charming, relaxed, and happy. Standing next to Susan was her cheerful bridesmaid, in a pretty floral summer dress of white, blue, and pink. The charmed groom had an attractive royal blue tie over his light blue shirt, with black trousers. Gregg’s best man dressed identically. The wedding ceremony was held at a Lutheran church in St Paul, followed by a luncheon feast prepared by Susan’s friends and relatives.
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| Minneapolis Sculpture Garden |
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| Spoon and Cherry sculpture |
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| An iron sculpture at Minneapolis Sculpture Garden |
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| Susan on her wedding day |
For honeymoon, their trip included driving from Duluth into Canada along the scenic North Shore Drive of Lake Superior, passing by a vast forest filled with aspen and birch trees. During the ten-day journey, they would stay either in a motel or at a camping site. Exploring the area, they admired the breathtaking lake views and the beauty of untamed nature, from small rivers and streams to rocky cliffs and waterfalls to pebble beaches and wildflower meadows. Along the way, they stopped to gather wild strawberries, and Gregg would make strawberry pancakes over the fire, next to their tent.
When Gregg began his life with Susan, he also became the household’s chef. He was the best cook I knew in the Twin Cities. Gregg introduced me to wild rice, a specialty grown in Minnesota. He once served it with chicken piquant, a recipe created by a White House’s chef for President Ronald Reagan’s inaugural dinner. And I still remember one of Gregg’s delicious dinners with chicken and 30 cloves of garlic. He made it from a recipe by James Beard, a well-known American chef. When Beard came to Minnesota to promote his cookbooks, Gregg and I each bought a copy. Of Beard’s collection, my favorite recipes were charcoal grilled spareribs and baked ‘popovers’ - the American name for Yorkshire pudding.
Gregg held a few wine and beer tasting parties each year. It was for an intimate circle of friends. I wasn’t able to drink much alcohol. But I learned a lot from these occasions and would be able to judge the various tastes of wines – sharp, smooth, wet, dry, full, flat…
Gregg’s parents were from England. Some years, in September, he started making English Christmas pudding. He said it would take about three months for the pudding to mature, with a lot of time involved. I have not found a Christmas pudding of his quality in Europe. Looking back, I wish I had shown more appreciation to Gregg in those years.
Susan gave birth to their first child in the spring of 1985. Gregg was at the hospital. He telephoned me - the fairy godmother - with the exciting news, “We have a daughter!” Little Laura was an adorable baby. I still remember carrying her in my arms. When I moved to Hong Kong, Laura’s photo with her parents was placed next to the photo of my American family, in the lounge. In the first six months, I would often sit next to the large window overlooking Victoria Harbor. I watched the moving vessels, the ocean waves, and the misty mountains in the horizon, and I let the memories of my years in America return.
It was the autumn of 1988 when I left Minneapolis. It wasn’t easy to give up my rewarding career at the University of Minnesota. I was also happy living next to the Guthrie, my favorite theatre. The apartment building was facing the Sculpture Garden and I loved its spectacular view. This garden had a special meaning to my life. It was where I did my walking meditation. By taking quiet steps through the garden and feeling the earth energy, one could let go of stress and anxiety, and even to heal oneself from grief and losses.
Susan and Laura took me to the airport. I had already said goodbye to my American family, my colleagues, and places familiar to me. However, I was feeling restless. Less than a year later, I returned to Minnesota. It was a short visit, and I was able to bid a final farewell to my adoptive country. The occasion marked the end of one life cycle and the beginning of another. I’d had a similar emotional experience many years earlier, but much more traumatic, when I left my family in Sai Gon for a new life in the West.
In the summer 1996, I brought four-year old Edward with me to Minnesota. First we stayed with my American family, who hosted a dinner party at their home, inviting my old friends and colleagues. Then we moved to Susan’s home. We had a nice time with Susan’s friends from her teaching days. For the remaining of our visit, Susan arranged a trip for us to Starbuck to see her mother. One evening, Edna cooked a delicious meat loaf and Susan made a mixed green salad. I was sitting opposite Gregg at the dinner table. He looked exactly the same. His voice was exactly the same. His red hair was exactly the same -- with a portion of it being cut off by Susan again, leaving a rather severe looking bang at the front. I was too afraid to make any comment about his hair.
That night, I felt as if I had never left them.