It started out to be a perfect beach day. The sun rose naked, without its usual robes of morning fog. The sky was the inviting kind of blue, enticing everyone outdoors. Scott and I got up early to make an American-style picnic for our outing with the Phan family. For most of them, this would be the first time to see the ocean. We put together peanut butter and jam sandwiches, turkey sandwiches, chips, Oreo cookies, and bottles of water. I knew they liked mango, so I sliced up a few of those. Both Scott and I were feeling a little apprehensive about the adventure. We were going to pack up people who I barely know and have a hard time communicating with and take them to a place they have never been. We wanted to give them a great time, but the responsibility weighed on us.
Scott followed me out to City Heights and was somewhat surprised when we pulled into the parking lot of the Phans’ apartment building. The neighborhood is boldly colorful, somewhat rundown, and crowded with African, Latino and Asian immigrants. Once we turned off the main business street, their street looked like it could be in any number of different developing countries. Looking down at us were several children with eager faces, waving. We went up the stairs and I introduced Scott to everyone. When I started reading off the eight names of those who were coming to the beach with us, Kay Lee broke down crying in her mother’s arms because her name was not on the list. I felt bad for her, but we just didn’t have any more room. I promised I would take the others to the beach some other time, but with her being only four years old, there is no other time; there is only right now. When Tomtom offered to give up his spot so his little sister could go, Kay Lee immediately stopped crying and we all went downstairs to get into the cars. Tomtom gave up a lot for his little sister. Scott understood at that moment why Tomtom stands out to me as a special boy.
We divided the three girls who were all around four years old, the grandfather, the teenager, the nine-year-old boy and the young couple between the two cars. At the stop sign near their house, a pack of pigeons pecked at the ground. Kueh asked me what they were. I said, “Pigeons.” She spelled out the word that she thought I said: P-I-J-O. I spelled it out correctly for her and wondered if maybe I should have said, “Birds.”
On the way to the ocean, I asked Kueh if she lived near or far to the Phans’. Thinking I asked who lived in the Phans’ house she listed the whole family off. I asked in another way, and she told me what apartment number the Phans’ lived in. Again I asked, and she told me the street name the Phans’ lived on. At this point I gave up trying to get the answer and wondered how she, or any of them for that matter, will make it in this English-speaking country that is worlds – and words – apart from what they know.
Their excitement in the car was palpable. With eyes taking in everything, the trip down the freeway was full of anticipation. We drove into Ocean Beach and parked at the pier. Everyone was talking excitedly in their native language. I took a photo of everyone on the seawall. Grandfather had worn his very best for the outing: a red striped sarong and a white long-sleeved shirt with a red woven tunic over it. His granddaughters and Kay Lee all wore brightly colored woven tribal tunics.
We walked out on the pier, which is the longest pier on the whole west coast of North America, stretching out over the ocean for almost a third of a mile. It is a wonderful place to take kids, because the rails make it safe, there are no cars allowed and kids can run freely. The surfers mesmerized the boys and girls. Holding Me-yem up to look over the rail, she giggled every time a surfer caught a wave. We zigzagged up the pier, looking over one side and then the other. Pelicans were dive-bombing for fish. They land so clumsily on the water, but have incredible precision when diving for fish. Scott noticed a dolphin in the distance. We all got excited, because we could see a whole pod of dolphins dipping and diving in the waves. A large school of fish was keeping the dolphins and the pelicans well fed this morning. In the two decades that I have lived near the pier, I have only seen dolphins a couple of times. It is supposed to be a sign of good luck to spot a dolphin, probably because you are lucky to see one. I felt lucky today, getting to enjoy what I take for granted through the sensory experiences of these people who had never seen the sea.
At the end of pier, as we watched a fisherman bait his line, a mentally disabled kid about twelve years old walked up to Grandfather and in slurred speech, three inches from his face, asked him over and over again, “Are you Chinese? Are you Chinese?” I stepped between them and said that he is not Chinese and does not speak English. Worried that Grandfather would feel affronted, I was glad that he just laughed and replied several times, “No understand.” He handled the situation lightheartedly, instead of being annoyed or put off before the boy’s mom led him away. Since Grandfather was dressed so obviously different, I looked at people’s faces as we passed them to make sure they weren’t giving strange looks to him. I felt so protective of the whole family that day, wanting to keep them safe. Scott and I realized that it is pretty hard to stand out in Ocean Beach.
As we walked back down the pier, Mu-wi, the littlest girl, held my hand. I felt like I had just bridged a gap because she felt close enough to me to want to walk hand-in-hand, even though we couldn’t speak to each other.
Scott and I got out the cooler from my car and we all sat on the sand and enjoyed the picnic. Kueh had brought some rice and curry, but the prepackaged Cheetos and Oreos were what seemed to be the big hit.
Noah and Kay Lee enjoyed feeding their chips to the seagulls. Within a few seconds they were surrounded by dozens of gulls. It didn’t seem to scare them. When they tired of that, they went down to the shore and waded in. I thought the waves would scare them since they can’t swim and that the water would be too cold to enter. Even though the surfers were wearing wetsuits, the cold did not bother them. Everyone else followed Kay-Lee and Noah’s example and took off some clothes to get wet. The little girls stripped down to their underwear, and the boys took their shirts off. They didn’t go deep, but they all got soaking wet. As they were coming out of the water, I bundled up each little girl, wrapping a big towel around her shivering body.
We loaded everyone up in the cars and drove inland, back to their apartment. Kay Lee fell asleep before we got on the freeway. There was a satisfied sense of calm in the car. As perfect as the day was, I felt relieved to get them safely home. Maybe they were relieved, too.
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