l to r.  Unknown little girl, my Mother, my oldest sister “Lucy” on my paternal Grandmother’s lap, my Father

The last time I was with my Dad, I was 5 months old.  Since I’ve seen photos of him, I knew he existed.

When my family immigrated to Canada 56 years ago, he stayed in China with my oldest sister.  His arrival to Canada was coming later.

I never knew anything about him.  I didn’t know what he did for a living; why he didn’t come with us or if he even thought of us.  It was at my paternal Grandfather’s funeral, that I found out my Father had passed away years before.

My mother is not a talkative person.   In my younger days, I use to prod her with questions about him and she never responded with any details.   I wasn’t fluent in Chinese and she wasn’t fluent in English.  I use to dream up fantasy stories:  he was a spy, he was royalty…   Once I got into my teens and my oldest sister arrived without him, I realized he was never going to show up.  I stopped thinking about him.

Over the years, I watched how my daughter Amber takes after her Dad in more ways than she takes after me.  These character traits, just like physical traits, cannot be denied that they are handed down from generation to generation.

Recently I was asked if I ever thought what my Dad was like.  I didn’t hesitate, “He was me”.  Unlike my Mother and siblings, I could only surmise that I took after my Dad.  So, I guess I knew my Dad.  I knew him better than anyone.

Children and their Parents

The quiet moments and enthusiasm between parent and child are shown in the set of six photos.

The excitement at sporting events such as the Rider Green and White Day, LA Dodgers and San Francisco Giants.

The quiet moments at the Japanese Tea Garden and Tijuana.

A child spinning an umbrella beside her mother at a Jazz Festival.

I can’t think of anything more special then a bond between parent and child.

My Canadian Family


Five months after my birth  I arrived on Canadian soil.  My mother tells me that I slept through the whole trip from Hong Kong to Humboldt.  Growing up in a Chinese restaurant, I had my afternoon naps in the midst and commotion of dishes, cutlery and loud voices placing food orders.  When I say I can sleep through a tornado, you know why.

Shortly after our arrival into Canada, tuberculosis struck my Mother.   She was sent away to a Sanatorium for treatment for a lengthy period of time.  Because my father remained in Hong Kong, my sister and I were placed in the caring hands of a wonderful family, the Schreiners.

In this picture, I would be just over a year old and the scowl you see on my face is the same one I wear every day.  I’m not angry about anything, I just find myself constantly analyzing everything around me.  So…it is an analytical face.

From left to right, my sister Lyn, my analytical face, Linda, Alan (a.k.a. Buzz) and Bob.  These siblings and their parents represents my loving Canadian Family.  This was the family that made all my childhood memories special and I thank them with all my heart.