[編者註：按農曆國內今天是臘八節，適逢母親大人八十大壽，茲將其新近完成的口述回憶錄張貼如下。在匆匆的編輯、修訂過程中，作為人子我常常感佩她老人家思路清晰邏輯性較強，內容或記憶力詳細準確，篇章結構嚴謹，敘述時大多出口成章，文字生動精煉。對有些讀者而言，其中也許蘊含了太多的“黨文化”內容，所用的語言也太過“革命化，”但正是這兩大特色準確地反映了一個時代、一輩人及一位女性的真實經歷。為了原汁原味地保存其歷史傳承價值，我在文字上儘可能地避免了改動；為了在抗疫期間向她老人家遙表生日祝賀，我特在此望洋高呼: 謹祝我敬愛的母親大人安順靜好、幸福喜樂、健康長壽！媽媽，您是我們老袁家第一個活過八十的直系親人，祈望您抖擻精神、先爭取活到一百周歲！！]
[編者注-2：按家鄉湖北松滋的習俗，年前要給活人辭年，給亡者上墳。今值亡父辭世九周年零20天之際，特將母親口述回憶錄的第十章單獨貼發如下，這張是根據我的建議增寫的，意在替他老人家留下文字記載。自老父離開我們，每每想到他我都哽噎難過，有時甚至老淚直滴。我寫過二十餘篇英文原創詩，大多已經發表，近年還有一首“清明節：寫給袁宏啟”已被翻譯成西班牙文，現又被加華作協主編的《信念》詩文集選錄，不日在溫哥華出版。為紀念亡父，我在媽媽的回憶錄後貼發我自己獻給我父親的英文詩，並在此仰天長問：爸爸，您在天國還好吧？！]
平凡人生，平凡故事
——劉瑜口述 (十) 夫君 為懷念夫君，這裡就他人生旅程中的過往簡單地講哈。首先把他在松滋農行工作的老部下鎮起蘭同志所著《書香伴夕陽》一書中對老伴所作的懷念詩詞介紹如下:題目是“愐懷袁宏啟行長”，內容是“為金融事業，為革命工作，滿腔熱忱，鞠躬盡瘁。有公僕品格，有松柏氣概，高風亮節，萬古流芳。(注:袁宏啟行長在松滋人行和農行任職期間，受到全市金融職工愛戴和敬重，謹以此詩表示沉痛哀悼。)” 我和夫君從相遇到永別，共同生活了半個多世紀，他的人生絢麗多彩，故亊不少。憶往亊，歷歷在目，懷故人，倍加思念。他四十三年耕耘路，七十八載奉獻歌，一生正氣，艱苦樸素，勤勤懇懇，大愛無私，以誠待人，熱心助人，兢兢業業，無私奉獻等等精神都值得我和子孫們永遠學習和繼承。 他小時有一個有趣的乳名:那是1934年的冬月十五日子時，他早產七個月就出生了，時逢他父親病入膏荒，聽見他匆忙降世大喜過望，覺得像是為他而來，頓時爬起來跪在床上向天朝拜，感謝上蒼在他“臨走”之際給他送來了兒子(己有兩個女兒即袁彩雲、袁喜雲)，歡喜之際，給他取名為“得寶”！五天之後他父就離開人世了。 他還有一個不吃鵝蛋鵝肉的故亊。據他告訴我，在他父親去世後，他們一家四口人，孤兒寡母，倍受族人的欺負，在他滿月不久，有人想把他偷抱出去丟棄，然後把他母親和姐姐趕走，再強佔他家的房子(土牆瓦屋)和田產(大約四畝水旱田)，他母親和姐姐養了一隻大白鵝，在他被人偷抱時，那隻鵝就嘎嘎大叫…因此才沒被偷走，後來他母親和姐姐都去下地干農活，只好把他放在搖床里，那隻鵝就把頭擱在搖床上；每天晚上母親把他放在床上，和姐姐一道做紡紗織布的活，鵝又把頭擱在床檐上。他的哺乳期就是這樣由鵝看護着他的。由於他母親、姐姐勤扒苦做養育着他成長，使欺負他家的族人無從下手，霸佔之亊終未得成。 所以他母親從小教導他終身不吃、不殺鵝類。我們成家後聽了他這個故亊，我倆就告戒孩子們，凡袁宏啟的子孫後代永不食鵝、殺鵝！ 年輕時，他曾是一個考取特種兵而未入伍的戰士。聽他說，1953年他在松滋花紗布公司工作時，他報名參軍，並錄取為特種兵，單位舉辦了歡送會，給他佩帶了光榮花，他自已己把出發前的有關事宜都處理安排了，比如把能用的東西都送給了朋友和同亊，把未曾用的被面等寄給他姐姐作紀念，把小時定的娃娃親也退了，覺得自已孤生一人再也沒有什麼牽掛，參軍後，滿可以把生命置之度外，只要黨需要隨時準備犧牲！但在正準備出發時，單位領導突然通知說接兵單位不讓他去了，原因就因為他是獨子又是孤兒，所以部隊首長指示，讓他留原單位工作，參加社會主義建設。 他曾訂有娃娃親。據他告訴我他小時侯由他母親和他大舅父商定，把大舅父的大女兒李金枝許配給得寶，這個金枝稍比他大幾個月，小時候兩家就是以這種關係往來的。他們倆人自已都很清楚。但在他十三歲母親去世後，大舅父一家在漢口城裡靠做麵條、發粑之類的小生意維持生活外，無法照顧他，任憑他獨自一人遠赴巴東投靠姨母李幫蘭，既當學徒又幫助做家務照顧婊弟、妹。從此他和金枝斷了聯繫，但金枝一直等看他，直到他決定從軍時才寫信給舅父取銷了這門親亊。這位金枝姐後來嫁人也有子女，因患乳腺癌，五十多歲就去逝了。 他的工作簡歷是這樣的。1951年8月經荊州行署工商科批准參加工作並分配到松滋縣花紗布公司任會計員，1953年經袁斌超介紹入團，1955年由方煥章、宋喜新介紹加入中國共產黨成為黨員。於1956年至1958年期間調入松滋縣釆購局、供銷社、糧食局任會計股長。1958年至1965年在松滋縣財貿部、組織部任幹部幹事。1965年至1971年在松滋縣八寶區任區委秘書。1971年至1974年在松滋縣電影管理站任副站長(在此期間被抽調出任枝榔鐵路松滋兵團臨時黨委副書記、書記等職)。1974年至1978年在松滋縣教育局任副局長。1978年至1981年在松滋縣人民銀行任副行長，其間人、農兩行分家，繼任農業銀行副行長並主持全面工作。1981年至1986年調入荊州地區農業銀行任計劃科副科長、科長等職。1986年至1993年在荊州地區農業銀行任工會辦事處副主任、經濟師等。1993年至退休任荊州地區農業銀行調研員(副處級)。 值得一提的是，有一次他險些因公殉職。大約是在1968年至1970年期間建修松滋沙道觀大橋期間，當時他擔任副指揮，為了在汛期搶時澆灌橋柱，他站在船頭指揮，由於洪水急流，大浪沖得小船直搖晃，他被晃掉進河裡，一個旋窩將他捲走，正在這個緊要關頭，同船的同亊胡超然同志跳下河抓住了他的頭髮將他救起來了。過了幾天之後他才講給我聽，讓我好幾天都心慌腿軟。真是感謝上天保佑！感謝胡超然同志的救命之恩！(胡超然同志己離開人世。) 他是一個不怕苦、不怕累的鐵漢子。大約是1978前後在教育局任副局長期間，他被縣委抽調到松滋王家大湖蹲點(縣委重點)，縣委副書記周其政同志任組長，他任副組長，整個住隊期間他與群眾同吃同住同勞動，總是堅持撿重活、難活、髒活干，吃飯前、後又不停地幫助住戶家幹活，包括掃地、洗衣、清洗豬欄、挑水、澆肥等等，晚上又經常開會貫徹落實縣委的各項指示精神，由此他感染了血吸蟲病，但他堅持帶病工作，我勸他請假治療，他也不聽，我向縣委領導反映他的病情後，領導下令要他治病，他才答應倒松滋南海磨盤州血防站住院治療，可是剛打玩2Ⅰ支銻劑針藥就着急趕回去上班，醫生說打玩針不能馬上出院，因為剛剛打了這樣的針藥，血管很脆，不休息一段時間，活動量稍大就會有生命危險，儘管如此，他也只休息了三天就回到王家大湖去了。 後來有一次又被狗咬傷，他也滿不在意。回縣裡開會時，他在無意中對我提到這事，當我問他那條狗當時的情況時，他說那隻狗像瘋狗一樣不知跑到哪裡去了。我聽了打了一個大張(很驚訝)並責備他說“你怎麼這樣搞不清白啊？瘋狗咬了不及時醫治就會得狂犬病的呀！”他還反對我說，“你少大驚小怪，哪有你說的那麼嚇人子”。說完他又開會去了，散會後他直接返回王家大湖點上去工作。我最終沒能說服他，只好又去找縣委副書記尤讓卿同志反映，尤書記很重視，當時就命我去王家大湖把他勸回來，並強調說這是縣委的命令，要他一定回來到醫院檢查，並儘快注射狂犬疫苗。他就是這樣全身心地朴在工作上的一個犟人。 類似的故亊還有很多，我就不一一敘述了。 再講哈他生活樸素，勤檢節約。大概是1968年間，兩個兒子想爸媽，從公安鄉下蓮花壋到八寶區委會來，到吃中飯的時侯，我在食堂端了飯菜在宿舍吃，用辦公椅子當飯桌，雲兒還小，吃東西時撒了些飯在椅子和地上，他很嚴歷地要孩子把撒的飯撿起來吃，並教訓道:不准浪費糧食，孩子被嚇得哭起來了，沒去撿飯，他便順手搧了孩子一巴掌。因他本人是吃過苦的人，珍惜糧食來之不易，所以對孩子也是時時處處嚴格要求。他對自也蠻苛刻。有一年縣勞動局從農村招礦工，乘這次機會我與公安縣勞動局唐局長聯繫，托他幫忙把小妹劉啟芬招上來，唐局長答應後叫我把招工表填好送過去，當時我沒有時間，就把表交給他，請他連夜送到蓮花壋讓啟芬把表填好，他二話沒說，接過表就走，事情辦好後才聽他說，步行三十多里路，為了愛惜鞋子，他竟然把鞋脫了是光着腳走回蓮花壋的(當時穿的布鞋是大姐劉書烈一針一線幫忙做的)，我聽了心疼極了…給他買衣服，稍貴一點，他硬是不穿，沒辦法只好哄他，比如很多年後買一件得體的棉襖花三百多塊錢，對他說只花了一百多塊錢；買短袖T恤衫花一百多隻說是花十多塊錢在地攤上買的；以前穿的短褲都是扯的布請人做的，退休後夏天很少上街，在家穿短褲的時候多，就給他買好一點的布料，偶然買成品褲二十八元一條，對他說只花了八元錢。如果原價告訴他，他不但不穿，還硬逼着我去退。單位發的工作服(西服)基本上全沒穿過，之後都送給別人了。就是這樣， 他對自已苛刻了一輩子。 在工作上他勤勤懇懇，任勞任怨。不管在哪個工作崗位上都做得很好。除完成本職工作任務外，凡辦公室內外的清潔工作，比如擦辦公桌椅及櫃櫥，還有打開水等等絕大多數日常工作都是他主動做的，有時與同事們一起出差，他還給同房間的同事準備洗嗽用品等，聽他的同亊告訴我說，與袁科長出差，他對我們真好，弄得我們蠻不好意。 他一輩子無論從事哪項工作、無論在哪個地方工作都是扎紮實實、認認真真、精益求精。特別是在寫材料期間，他經常通宵用工、徹夜不眠；擔任會計工作時曾發明過一種財務報表，可以讓各級的財務報表都能及時準確地上報。因此他曾得到過多次獎勵。特別是1956年在松滋縣釆購局任會計股長期間，他獲得過湖北省人民政府頒發的省級勞動模範獎狀和勳章，退休後還享受了省級勞動模範補貼每月六十元。 1976至1978年間，他在松滋教育局任副局長時曾連續三年擔任過縣招生辦公室主任，其間他與松滋縣街河市中學的劉柯凱同志一道為地、縣兩級及各基層單位領導、各層幹部以及城鎮居民的下鄉子弟(知青)做了大量的工作，真是以全心全意為人民服務的精神，認真落實文化大革命後政府要突出重點㧓好教育工作的一系列指示精神，廢寢忘食，儘可能多的讓有志青年重返學校。為了從省、地招生辦多爭取指標，他揹着被招青年的檔案蹲在地區招辦一個一個的落實去向。比如荊州地區某單位有位同志的孩子叫張風波，當時被下放到松滋八寶某大隊，1976年招生時，他挎着一個解放軍用的小黃挎包到我家來找他，碰巧他當時不在家，是由我接待的。張風波向我講明了他的來意，說自己非常想上大學，我答應一定幫他轉告，要他回大隊等着。等宏啟到家後，我把這個孩子的要求告訴他，說這個孩子看起來很不錯，長相身材、語言談吐都蠻叫人喜歡，與我們的大兒子同年，是一棵好苗子。他聽後就用筆記下了，等他把這孩子的情況弄楚後就調來他的學生檔案，將他列入推薦名冊，後來他告訴我說張風波已被上海外語學院錄取了，我還為這孩子高興了一陣子。後來聽昌明告訴我說，他已是一位了不起的國際尖端人才。 由於他在招生工作中做得出色而且清政廉明，受到湖北省教育廳廳長周時炎的讚賞。後來周廳長到松滋視察教育工作時還專門到我們家走訪過。 1993年退休後，他最突出的幾件事再還囉嗦一哈。 一是酷愛學習。我們當時訂有兩報一刊，即《湖北日報》、《參考消息》和《文摘》，退休後我把《湖北日報》改訂為《楚天都市報》。他每天上午主要看報，除了看還做筆記、剪貼報紙，並把重要消息講給我聽，他做的筆記堆了好大一堆。 二是行善積德。他有一顆最善良的心。為孤寡老人，我們曾給地區民政局送去捐款；汶川地震我們分別在各自的單位捐款；他做得特別突出的是凡看見要飯的、殘疾病人討錢的、神經病人在垃圾堆里找吃食的他都是身上有多少錢就都給人家多少，對不會用錢的人就先去買吃的， 然後趕着送到那些人的手中。他有幾個同亊告訴我說，老劉同志呵，你的老袁真是一個大善人。他若出去你就把些零錢，免得他有一百就給人家一百元，有五十元一張的就送給人家五十元，他硬是把荷包倒光了才回來。 三是虔誠禮佛。他從亊革命亊業數十載，自始自終都是一個忠於黨、忠於人民的好黨員、好公僕。六十歲退休後由於他身患高血壓心臟病，特別是2002年以來病情日趨加重，經常心絞痛，每次去看醫生，醫生都要他馬上住院，到了出院的時候，醫生總是再三叮囑他回到家裡要堅持臥床休息。但他是一個閒不住的人，為靜心強身，他想到禮佛。1994年他開始在荊州章華寺請經書， 比如《大乘楞嚴經》、《阿彌陀經》、《觀音普門品》、《慈悲梁皇寶懺》等等，同時開始誦經做早課，還請了觀音大士聖像。在頌讀經書的過程中，他專程到松滋大悲寺拜果師付為師學佛受戒(即不殺生、不偷盜、不妄語、不姦淫、不酗酒等)。經過經書和師付的開示，他於1996年開始在家嚴格實行每天安排好的生活、學習及禮佛的日程， 即每天零晨四點鐘起床，洗漱完了就開始按儀式念佛、做早課，然後就盤腿打坐(開始只能單腿盤坐)、靜心頌經，堅持三個小時做完後才吃餐，然後看電視新聞聯播、做家務活，如果見到太陽就曬衣服、被子等，中餐後睡午覺，兩點多鐘開始做午課直到五點多鐘，之後要麼幫助收衣、被，要麼打掃樓梯處的公共場地等，晚餐後堅持到戶外活動，主要是散步，回家後看中文國際頻道的節目即“中國新聞”、“國寶檔案”、“走遍中國”、“海峽兩岸”等，九點鐘他就上床睡了。有時他還應松滋大悲寺的邀請去參加拜懺活動，住上月余時間，寺廟的師付們都很親近他，因為他禮佛特別虔誠，哪怕有時心絞痛發了他吃了藥喝點水稍休息一會又急着上場，飯前飯後的休息時間，他從不空着，不是給大家洗碗筷就是掃場地或殿堂。平時居家，每逢農曆的初一、十五他都到附近的多寶庵去敬香禮佛。就這樣日復一日、年復一年一直堅持到2002年，功夫不負有心人，有一天他突然很高興的告訴我說他己能完完全全的打雙盤坐了！當時他己六十八歲，真是不容易啊！ 2002年以後他的心臟病更加嚴重，發病頻繁，每次發病差不多都在深夜。每年多次住院，特別是到2006以後，除心臟病外又加上痛風病經常發作，每次都痛得死去活來，因此就很少到松滋大悲寺去了，只是偶爾到附近的多寶庵參加重大的禮佛活動。每次他去任何一個寺廟從不空手，不是上功德就是供養僧人或者捐款修繕寺廟。1997年他向大兒子告我的狀，說我每月給他的活動費少了，大兒子跟我說您就每月給他一仟元，我就按大兒子的意見每月給他一仟元，讓他用在禮佛、敬佛、行善方面去了。特別是在2009初，我看他病得太重，就把我倆共同的積蓄毫無隱瞞地告訴他(因他對我放手放心從不過問錢財之事)，聽候他忍不住每天都催我把錢取出來(當時錢在股市)給他，沒辦法只好順從他，把十萬元人民幣的存款交給他，他一拿到手轉身便叫小兒子替他送給松滋大悲寺四萬元，送給多寶庵三萬元，剩下的由他本人親自送給他家鄉石山堡的袁氏詞堂和寺廟了。2010年元旦節期間大兒子全家從北美回荊州大團圓，給他一萬元人民幣他回頭就捐了出去，還大大讚賞大兒子向民政局捐款的善行。看到他這樣無私虔誠的行為，多寶庵的演本師傅曾說：“袁居士真是一位大善人，將來他一定是一個虔誠菩薩！” 在長期住院的情況下，他不能再盤腿打坐、早晚禮佛了，但他依然帶病堅持以松滋大悲寺震果法師摘編的名義執筆撰寫了《南無阿彌陀佛是怎樣一尊佛》的小冊子，並在當地佛教信男信女中廣泛發行，其所有費用都是他一個人承擔的。 到了2011年，他連續五次住院，因為心衰嚴重、心臟辨膜高度損壞，隨之引起腎衰，呼吸也特別困難。醫生多次找我談話說要我作好思想準備，他隨時都有“走”的可能，在最後20多天裡，他受盡磨難，終究逃脫不了病魔的糾纏，於2012年元月2日下午五時許被疾病奪去了他的生命…可憐我夫君剛過了七十七歲就離開人世先我而去了… 但跟我講過，他的整個晚年都是幸福的。後來我在他的遺物中發現一張字條，上面有他親筆寫的三句話:辛酸的童年，奮鬥的青壯年，幸福的晚年。 ----------------------
My Dates
Between 1934 And 2012 Is A Line Short But Containing Numerous Dotted Words
[Actually, these dates are my fathers]
01/02/2012: for Yuan Hongqi
That was the day when my father died Before finishing the longevity noodles Mom’s trying to feed him below our feet On the other face of the planet, where He had persisted long enough to allow Us to celebrate another new year’s day In Jingzhou as well as in Vancouver When my brother’s only son managed to Travel all the way to Grandpa’s dying bed To report how he was doing in New York This was also the time when I and Hengxiang Felt like making love again after another Cold war, when Iran successfully testfired Two long-range missiles in the Persian Gulf To deter the invasion to be led by Uncle Sam And his running dogs, when the very first Plymouth Neon was made in 2000, when JFK Became a senator in 1960, when a stamped Took 66 human lives after a soccer game At the Ibrox Park Stadium in Scotland Even earlier, and when God was taking A long overdue nap, since he knew All was well with this wild wild world On that day, I became the oldest male In my entire family, ready to take my turn To deal with death in a masculine manner
Tomb Visiting: For Yuan Hongqi
Last year, before burying your ashes Right beside Grandma’s grave site (To guard her Buddhaship, as you had Wished), I opened your urn for a peek And found your biggest bone chip Glistening against the January wind As pink as a piece of charcoal Now, too far to attend your anniversary Like every other good Confucian son Burning joss sticks and fake money Lighting a huge pile of firecrackers Before your tombstone, on Big Wok Peak But I did make three loud kowtows Towards the east, and in so doing I saw a little rosy cloud drifting around Like an inflated bird beating its wings Along the horizon, amid evening glows And wondered whether that’s your spirit Still lingering between earth and heaven What was it tightly holding in its beak: A heirloom, or simply our family name?
[Although the poem was written early in 2012, it was round 10:30 pm on Saturday evening 30 December when my mom was conducting a traditional commemorating ritual in Jinzhou, China that I led my family actually to kowtow towards the east]
上墳：獻給袁宏啟
年初，我把您的骨灰 埋在奶奶的墳邊 （保她平安，如您生前所願） 我打開您自買的骨灰壇偷看了一眼 但見您最大的一片骨殖 在元月的寒風中閃閃爍爍 粉色的，就像一塊火炭 現在，我離您實在太遠 不能像其他儒家孝子 到大鍋頂您的墳前去祭奠 點香，燒冥錢，放長鞭 但我還是領着妻兒面朝東邊 磕了三個響頭，當時我遙見 一朵紅雲飄飄然然 象一隻充氣的鳥兒振翅飛旋 在地平線上，在晚霞之間 不知那可是您的魂靈 還彷徨在天地之間？ 瞧，那鳥嘴裡叼的是什麼 您的傳家寶，還是我們的姓字‘袁’？
Recalling: For Yuan Hongqi
‘Wait a while!’ Mother would shout, ‘they say There might be more showers this afternoon.’ So I recalled, from time to time How he would turn a deaf ear to her And continue, dragging out quilts Sheets, pillows, blankets, padded coats One pile after another Like moving forests Hanging them on thick ropes Tied to deformed poplars or lamp posts ‘Not again! This old man of mine just wouldn’t Want to waste a single ray of sunlight.’ And remembered, for nearly half a century My dad had tried each time to empty the whole house And sun-wash everything, more like a grandma Than like a father, even during the Cultural Revolution Now realizing how I have been haunted By his stark image, smiling, in blue, ever since He nodded his head to Mother for the last time About 5 pm on January 2 last year I find myself choked again with gratitude: It was my father who gave me so many a chance To smell fresh sunlight in my boyish nightmares
Kinship: For Yuan Hongqi
Yes, we are father and son, but so often Did I doubt this simple small biofact: We could never say more than three short Sentences to each other when we met, nor Did we meet more than three times per year Before I managed to flee a thousand miles Away from you, and later ten thousand away From your village on this world’s other side Like other Chinese fathers, you never said You loved me, gave me a hug, or touched me Unless it was a cutting pinch in the arm Or a heavy hit on the butt, (always in surprise) While my peers kept bragging aloud About their great fathers, grandfathers I looked down upon you, not because of Your slight stature, but because of your Smaller personality, constantly calling you ‘A Buddha outside, a Devil at home’ (Of course behind your back), so I used to Feel guilty, fearing I could never shed Any teardrops when you die, just as every True Confucian son is supposed to Unlike me and my son, with a big store of Co-memories ready to share, to cherish We were born enemies, karma-determined In our former lives, just as you had explained To my mother, (who would be busy filling In each new crack on our wall, with a big pail Of muddy mixture every time we met) Yet ever since your death at the dawn of 2012 I have been haunted by your image, kindly Smiling, and even sobbed my heart out While dreaming last night: are you there, Dad?
親情：寫給袁宏啟
沒錯，你我確係父子，不過我常常 懷疑這一簡單的生物學事實： 每次相聚，我們難能說完三句短話 而一年到頭我們見面也不過三次 那還是我在世界的另一邊 逃避你千里萬里之前 像其他中國父親，你從未說過 你愛我，擁抱過觸摸過我 除非是深掐臂膀 或痛打屁股，（總是冷不及防） 當我的同伴大聲吹噓 他們的爸爸爺爺如何了得，我卻 瞧不起你，不是因為 你身量矮小，而是因為 你性格怯弱。我時時（在你背後）說你 ‘在外是活菩薩，在家是活閻王’ 因為這，我深深內疚，唯恐不能像個 真正的儒家孝子在你離世時為你落淚 不像我和我的兒子，總有許多共同往事 分享回憶，我你乃天生對頭 前世註定，一如你向我母親訴說的 那樣。（每當我倆相見 她總是擰着個大桶， 隨時在你我之間的 高牆上填縫補隙） 可是，自從2012年年初你撒手人寰 你的形象一直追纏着我，慈愛的 微笑，每每使我泣不成聲 昨夜還夢見：你在麼，爸？
Family Reunion: Once, and Forever
Yuan Hongqi, may your spirit, Dad, come And join us from Pure Land in this poem (Conceived in and dedecated to Vancouver) With Liu Yu, my mother, who is paying us A visit from the other side of the world Let’s gather together behind these thin lines Where I and Hengxiang Liao, my old girl Have prepared a big dinner according to Our own recipes. Please, sit here with Mom Above my central metaphor. First, take a sip Of Luosong Soup, our only family specialty George Lai and Allen Qing, my two sons Always love to drink, even Hyunjung Lee (George’s Korean wife) finds it agreeable -- By the way, the young couple has finally Decided to buy a condominium in Sunnydale Now, try some consonance, and this assonance Fried with Tofu, a course you never heard of In your lifetime. Look, right beside you is Julian Han Yuan, your most favored grandson The pride of our family who’s doing his PhD In New York, and across the table are Liu Yun My brother and his current wife Chen Jing Still working far away in Jingzhou, China Dad, since you were a vegetarian, a Buddhist Let’s have internal rhyme instead of wine, let’s Celebrate our grand family reunion. Cheers!
[Towards the end of 2011, we had our first and last family gathering when my father was still alive. In terms of health and finance, this was a highly costly reunion, as George and Hyunjung had to travel from San Francisco, Julian from New York, and we - my wife, my younger and i, from Vancouver all the way to Jinzhou in Hubei Province. Because of this trip, Allen's disc problem got worse and has never recovered, while I began to suffer from dramatically obvious symptoms of heart diseases such as HCM (?)]
Here are all the pieces I have written with my father in mind since I began composing poetry in English, which have all been published as well:: Well, Well, the Well
(for Yuan Hongqi) In the lowest terrain of My father’s native village Used to be an old well As deep as the memories Of last century, around which Boys would be running At noon in summer And girls dancing under the willow At midnight, where my father Often sat, listening to his sick mother Telling stories about his unknown ancestors The well finally ran dry After God knows how long, and Since electricity came across the hills And ponds, nobody has returned to it Except mosses and lichens that have colonized The whole territory, where only my grandma’s ghost Shines down from time to time Trying to guard its walled-in secrets Now as dry as its mouth
[This is a parallel poem based on an imagined experience.]
Ischemia
In my line of people, especially on my father’s side There never seems to have been ample blood Running within the arteries behind our Chinese chests No matter how warm-hearted we actually are As in the case of my father, who used to Accuse me of being an ill-hearted teenager My heart muscle is imbalanced As one side is less infused with blood Than the other, thus causing palpitation Short breath, and a strong sense of Tightness, heaviness or tiredness about life To diagnose my cardiovascular defection Neither an echo nor a stress test is needed For I am keenly aware of my own doomed Arteries that have been clotted With too many syllables Voiced or voiceless And to make all these sounds flow out of my heart Is already stressful enough Nevertheless, I will keep pumping out these words Be they ever so blood-soaked [This is a parallel poem based on a puzzling health-related experience.]
心肌缺血
在我的家人中，尤其是男性 好像從無足夠的血液 在我們的中國胸腔里流淌 儘管我們實際上非常熱心 一如我父，他常罵我 是一個心壞的小子 我的心肌不夠勻稱 尖端處總是缺血 因此我時常覺得心悸，氣短 以及對人生的疲倦 或負重感 要診斷我有缺陷的心臟 其實無須掃描或進行運動試驗 我深知我的心臟血管 因有太多的音節而堵塞 有的是清音，有的是濁音 讓這些音節都通過心室 早已使我精疲力竭 然而，即使這些音節沾滿鮮血 我也要將其泵出
Curse in Verse: An Ischemic Tradition*
As if this had been a family curse You have all the symptoms of ischemia: Palpitations, short breaths, irregular heartbeats Although no test results show you Having a physiological cause of the problem While your family doctor keeps wondering Why you do not have enough blood Flowing around behind your Chinese chest You know your heart muscle as a sponge From which you have squeezed out Too many of your blood-rooted words Like your father, like your son [While my dying father Yuan Hongqi has never been able to get his poetry published, my 16-year-old younger son Allen Qing Yuan, who suffers greatly from disc problems, has already had his poems appearing in a number of countries. ]
詩咒：缺血的傳統*
仿佛這是個家族之咒 缺血的症狀你應有盡有： 心悸，氣短，律動不齊 儘管沒有哪項檢查結果表明 你確有病理方面的原因 你的家庭醫生實在弄不明白 你的中國胸腔之內，為甚麼 沒有足夠的血液流淌 你知道，自己的心肌像一塊海綿 從中你已擠出 太多太多沾血的字句 有其父，必有其子
Like A Lamp
in Vancouver west from time to time
you just cannot help yelling, yearning
for your father's humming
you fumble into musical halls
in pursuit of tunes
soft/hard utterances
you need this feeling
you need this contact
with origin
guiding your heart
like a lamp
along a forlorn road
[This is a parallel poem based on an imagined experience.]
Making Tea
Without a famous name These little shy leaves Coming afar from my father’s farm Deep among fluffy hills Like sleeping giant pandas Sowing a few in my crystal glass I see them budding Blooming in boiled water Taking a slow sip I fall drunk as if in a stupor With a tiny taste of All the freshness of spring And a whole morning glow Making Tea Without a famous name These little shy leaves Coming afar from my father’s farm Deep among fluffy hills Like sleeping giant pandas Sowing a few in my crystal glass I see them budding Blooming in boiled water Taking a slow sip I fall drunk as if in a stupor With a tiny taste of All the freshness of spring [My father enjoyed drinking thick green tea, but this is a parallel poem based on an imagined experience.]
Sunwashing
Never have I been a handy man With my hands so too clumsy Even to hold a hummer right As my wife often jokes about them But from my old man I did learn How to make my home hygienic By taking all bed clothing outside On a good sunny Saturday Opening all the doors and windows To replace the abused air Or even to remove the whole roof If removable So that my sons can dream A sun-fresh dream at night Just as I used to be so crazy About the golden smell of sunlight [My father would never wasted a singly ray of sunshine, as my mom often says: whenever it was sunny, he would put everything outside to enjoy some sunlight. I used to hate this addiction when I was a boy.]
Name Changing
Confucius once said If the name is not right Language will carry no might So my father created my name By rearranging the sun and moon Vertically and horizontally To equip it with all The forces of yin and yang Dispersed in the universe Since I became subject To a totally different grammar All people have complained Or made fun of my name So harsh and awkward They conspire to seduce me To adopt a familiar one Like Michael in the powerful speech But to retain the subtle balances In the wild wild world I wander To hold my father’s sunbeam With my mother’s moonlight I fiercely refuse to change it Even though I often feel lost When the sounds I hear Do not sound like my name at all
The White Goose
My grandfather was younger than my son When he died of an undiagnosed disease Somewhere in the Mid-South of China So we have been told since childhood: He did nothing memorable or forgettable Left no picture of his or any handwriting Not even one impression on my father’s senses Since he was born after he passed away) But he had bought a big white goose To protect his infant son in his place And a single-syllabled family name Copyrighting every little poem I have composed In a foreign tongue
Twilight：Hanyang County
Twilight Hanyang County My father was eight Yes, as young as eight Maybe only seven Burning with sweat On his way to nowhere In front of him a wild fellow dog (He was a dog according to Chinese zodiac) Was grumbling angrily with hanger While dry grasses and leaves Were swept from field to field And rain clouds too heavy with dusk Sacking down towards bald hills Dying of thirst and heat Both caused by an unknown fever He dragged himself close to a pond Smelling of rotten reeds and water buffalo shit There he drank to his full Wrapping his legs with fresh mud from the bottom To keep himself cool for the night The next morning he would continue Wandering around outside his fatherless home Like a premature vagrant
[When my father was orphaned at 13, he became a homeless boy travelling from Hanyang to Badong, Sichuan Province and then back to Shashi, Hubei Province, trying to find a job to make a living until 1949.]
Ancestry Worshipping
No, we never planned it that way But it so happened this seventh summer I took my twelve-year-young son To my father’s native village among hairless hills In the far east end, the other side of the world Which he had left as a starving orphan And returned with me in the Mao suit Like a magic-toyed boomerang When we were both at Allen’s age For the first times in our lives Last time, my father forced the Little Red Guard in me To kowtow, burn joss sticks and paper money secretly For his parents, whose dialect had survived Though I understood it only half-heartedly This time, I cajoled my boy to grasp a handful of earth From the grave of my grandma worshipped by villagers (Her humaneness has supposedly made her a local deity) And smuggle it to the backyard of our home in Vancouver Like some foreign seeds prohibited at the customs As we departed, again, our clan elder chanted: Under the shade of a new highway This old grave will soon be erased...
Masculine Haiku: A Poet’s Family
Debao Head and heart both bald He’s not pulled out one single line Except his surname George Using no poet’s lathe He shaves off his young manhood With an e-razor Allen Like son, like father His voice has begun to break All for poetry’s sake Michael To his great credit He’s published two finest sons Among his fine poems
The Death of a Chinese Widow
(For Li Juying)
In a remote Chinese village On a forgotten winter night A 38-year-old poor woman Tried hard to sit up noiselessly Put aside rather than on her padded clothes Crawled out of her frameless bed And resolutely drowned herself In a broken wide-brimmed water jug Behind herself she left neither worth nor words Except three teenagers who had been Bullied and looked at with slanting white eyes By their fellow villagers (who bore the same family name) Ever since their father died Of an untreated disease 13 years before Years later, her children understood Why she killed herself In a water jug on that night Many years after she had been suffering From a painful But not fatal disease Years later, her only son told me Why my grandma Chose to drown herself almost naked On that cold night
[My father was choked with tears every time he said he was never able to perform a son's loving duty, since his mother committed suicide to save family resources when he was only 13 years old. So, he insisted in having some of his ashes divided to be buried beside her tomb to do so. We honoured this wish of his, and to express my feeling, I wrote the above poem to commemorate my grandma.]
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parcenary my destination was preset you will receive a parcel by express. It turns out all too expressly, and the sender was my parents who had wrapped themselves inside already
My Photo Tightly embedded Within a metal frame Is my colored soul Sitting high Against the wall Like a stuffed owl I know how I will be spending days and nights Of my posthumous life there Watching my children walking Into their little rented room Or out of it
Father’s Soliloquy: A Mock Poem after Shakespeare The other night, before the cock crowed, or The crow cocked out of darkness, a yellowish Shape stalked in vision, as in blank verse ‘Mark me,’ it says, sounding almost exactly Like my late father. ‘Lend thy very serious Hearing to what I shall unfold.’ Suddenly alerted I got up among figures, between dream and sleep ‘When you were a teenager, I hated you so much For looking at me always with your eye whites Giving me an ugly face each time I talked to you So much so that I cursed you numerous times in My dream for being such an unworthy son; I often Doubted if you were my own flesh until you grew Into a normal loving adult, making me feel guilty All my life; also, I was suspicious of your mom Betraying me, not only in heart but also in body I almost caught her making love with some guy On our own bed - -You still remember that small Apartment we used to live in? Among all my dadly Secrets, these two I want to reveal to you first Next time, I will tell you more about the limbo Between hell and heaven, with the lightest word Which might harrow up thy spirit, burn up thy Blood…’ now the cock crows, and I must vanish
[This is a parallel poem based on an imagined experience.]
Walking with Father: For Yuan Hongqi One thing I forgot to mention, Dad Is I intentionally moved either before Or behind you, each time we happened To be walking together. That way, you could Neither pinch my arm not slap my face So readily; otherwise, you would have to Embarrass yourself if you ran forward Or waited to do so, as you tried to Educate me in anger. Since my departure From my home town beyond the pacific How often have I hoped to walk again, just once Side by side with you, getting or offering support Whenever either of us needed it But now I could only follow your footprints behind Step by step, while you wait to beat me in heaven, smiling Inviting My Father’s Spirit Rarely did we get along, Dad, before You gave us all up, and seldom Did we even talk, so you never Knew how I really felt about you As a father, in particular, about your Grooming habits: each time you Returned from your office or trips You skinned us off and washed all Our clothes, sheets, towels, mops Cleaning furniture (including Every foot’s bottom), polishing Lamp covers and cooking utensils Though you often forgot to put them Back in good and tidy order; true I learned to love your cleanness But never the way you were so busy Doing all this like an old woman Now you are taking a long break Up there, (where everything is Supposed to be perfectly clean); do You enjoy watching me doing Such things down here to keep My home and heart both dust-free
A Lost Memoir One more thing I never told you, Dad Was I always believed you to be an Extra-ordinary father, but in a highly Embarrassing way: each time you saw Me hanging around with my buddies You kept saying this like a big broken Gramophone: “Follow Chairman Mao’s Teachings; Follow the Party’s Lead,” just as you drove me crazy By trying to convert me into a true Communist like yourself, even When we happened to be eating At the same table. Still remember? You once forced me to kneel down On the hard ground until I finished Reciting Mao Zedong’s “Three Old Essays.” It was then I began to defy You blindly, to follow no other than My own heart, in a boyish rebellion Against your fatherly dictatorship Against any other form of tyranny
Twilight: for Liu Yu My heart muscle contracts, excruciatingly Like an overly-wound spring, ready to break Each time I imagine my mom walking alone Towards the dusty evening, while she used to Go downstairs first, waiting aloud for my dad: ‘Grandpa, what are you still busy doing there? It’s time to take a walk outside, along the moat!’ Now without a companion, my mother does not Have to wait or hurry for anyone, but how she Just misses the days when her shadow and my Father’s became longer and longer, side by side As they strolled slowly, until the sun set lower And lower above the blurred horizon of autumn
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