Reflections on Home, Family & Belonging
Mike reminisces on his mother throughout her orientation to American life in Steubenville, Ohio, praising his hometown for accepting his mother, recognizing her strength, and forging her courage.
I was reflecting on Steubenville recently. It's easy to wax romantic and nostalgic about Steubenville, and I often do. It's easier when you haven't been in your hometown in a long time. When you're there, it takes about two weeks to start getting tired of the place again, and hating it all over again.
My Mother's Journey and Steubenville
But one thing I kind of cherish about Steubenville now, that I definitely did not before, is how they treated my mom. My mom was treated wonderfully by the people of Steubenville. Being one of a small handful of Asian families, I failed to appreciate how isolating that must’ve been for my mother.
One thing that I feel really bad about is how badly I treated her. I used to ridicule my mom a lot for being "stupid" - for not being intelligent and curious about the world. That was part of my vibe with her when I was growing up, and I feel really awful about this now, because I don't know how much of that condescension was of my own - and how much of if was imparted by the manner in which my father talked to her.
As a kid, my dad and I would geek out on stuff together - playing video games, sci-fi films and series like Star Trek: The Next Generation et al… We reveled in being big nerds together. In fact, my dad was a sort of “big brother” with regards to enjoying video games together. He introduced me to video games in his own fascination when purchasing the Atari console that first piqued this interest - before getting the Nintendo system. Believe it or not, it was my dad who introduced me to this “gateway drug” into video game obsession - and all the unhealthy addictions and habits that come with that…
But my mom and I did not share in common as many of those hobbies, passions and interests. My mother was very much an enigma to me. It was difficult to have special moments together. There simply weren’t as many bonding moments, and they weren’t the same as the ones I had with my dad. There was a wall between us.
One of my biggest frustrations with Mother was trying to teach her how to use a computer. My passion about computers when I was a kid was borne partly from having attended Wells Elementary School, back when Steubenville had its “Parental Schools of Choice” in the form of little magnet schools - these specializations throughout its various elementary schools. Wells was known during my time there from grades 2-5 for its dual specialty in fine arts and computer science.
While attending Wells from grades 2 - 5, it was known as a fine arts
One of the big frustrations I always had was trying to teach my mom how to use a computer. I was passionate about computers when I was a kid. I went to Wells, which back when Steubenville had its parental schools of choice (magnet schools for elementary schools), I went to Wells from grades two to five. At the time, it was known as a fine arts and, now that I think about it, quite progressive for a school back then: its specialty was computers and fine arts. God damn, what a combination! Now that I think about it, that really explains a lot about my own passions. I don't know about any other Wells kids out there, of course, now it's Wells Academy, after they bulldozed and tore down the physical building that housed my old elementary school and moved it into the unused part of the high school due to shrinking demographics and population of Steubenville, Ohio.
Nonetheless, I remember being passionate about computers. Mind you, this was back in the late '90s. Computers were still kind of first entering the PC market. People were just getting their first PCs, and it wasn't uncommon for a kid never to see a computer except at school, and that's only if their school was lucky enough to afford these things or have them donated. But my mom couldn't give a shit less about computers. In fact, she probably still can't, even though she uses them all the time and doesn't realize it. But that was always a big source of tension between me and her. As a kid, I always wanted her to learn, which is funny and ironic for a kid to try and teach a parent something, because you don't hear about that very often. Obviously, it's usually the parents who are believed to pass knowledge down to their kids. It was frustrating teaching my mom how to do anything. It's not because of stubbornness; it's just because she literally had trouble. She was learning so much when she came here. My mom spoke English, but it wasn't her first language. I can't help but think what it must have been like for her moving to the U.S. where nobody else around her spoke her language, and she just had to pick up English. She knew a little English when she lived in Taiwan, enough to impress my dad, and that's how they met.
Here's a picture while we're doing my little tribute to mom. I love that picture of her. The way I have it framed reminds me of those pictures of Mao in China where everybody has the same picture of Mao. You guys can see her, and I have that same picture of her elsewhere on Facebook. I love that picture; that's her at the age of 36, which is the age I'm at now. Oh God, that's so weird.
My mom came from Taiwan to the United States, didn't know very much English. She had to pick it up. I compare that a lot to when I lived in Montreal and failed so hard at picking up French. Mind you, those are two different situations. Montreal is a bilingual city, so it's easy to get lazy and slip right back into English, which was part of the problem why I never really learned French adequately enough for Hydro Quebec to hire me.
So, that's something I never took enough time to really admire my mom for: how she adapted to this weird country of ours. Not only did she adapt to the United States in a general notion, but Steubenville, Ohio, of all places. I think often when immigrants come to the United States, they usually find some cool big sexy city to settle in, and within that city, they find a little diaspora of similar people. You see it everywhere, all the time. In Columbus, for instance, there's a whole diaspora of Eastern African peoples, Somalis. They all hang out. It's fascinating to look around your city and discover these things. Of course, New York City has well-known places like Chinatown and Koreatown. Then you have the gays, which, mind you, that's a whole different... I mean, that's not like an ethnic group. The gays aren't people, for the most part, I wouldn't say are people that, okay, let me think about this for a second. I guess a lot of gays had escaped smaller towns that were dangerous places to live, so I guess they would have a similar story to what immigrants went through. Mind you, they were kind of domestic, mostly domestic, in-house immigrants, migrants I should say, migrating from a small town.
Nonetheless, my mom did not have that. My mom lived in Steubenville, Ohio, and like I said, we were the only Asian people there. Man, when I look back, I remember how lonely it must have been for her, not having other Chinese people to talk to, not having other Taiwanese people to talk to, not having that sense of community where she kind of based her identity. And damn it, my mom never even talked about it. As a kid, I never picked up on it. I definitely picked up on the fact that my mom kind of did her own thing; she didn't have a lot of friends, and she didn't hang out with all the other women around town. But she did have friends; she made very few but very valued friends there. I remember Norma Jean, or God damn it, Norma Jeanette, she wants it to DeCarlo, but that's her maiden name. A lot of the DeCarlo family, we were friends with. And then there were these Italian ladies on our street, and my mom learned how to make legit, really legit tomato sauce, pasta sauce, the best pasta sauce you can imagine, like from a home in Italy, like that Italian grandmother hand-crushing the tomatoes and making the sauce. That type of tomato sauce, made with love. My mom made great Italian food. I think it's sort of a testament to Steubenville, Ohio, that my mom made such amazing Italian food as a Taiwanese immigrant. That just goes to show how wonderful my hometown was at accepting my mother.
It's easy to kind of write off Steubenville as a Podunk town. But really, they were full of some of the nicest, kindest people, at least as my mother was concerned. When I look back on that, I really, really cherish that, man. Especially the individuals who went out of their way to make my mom feel at home, especially when I, as a kid, kind of shunned my mother. As a kid, I just wanted to be like everybody else, so that meant sort of pretending... well, I never would think this is how my mother, but I just remember feeling like the weirdo with the immigrant mom. That's unfortunate that I looked at it that way back then. But whenever I look back at it now, obviously, I really appreciate her a lot more. God damn it, she did stuff, she took risks and took leaps that I would never do at this time. She didn't have, I mean, maybe it's just that she didn't know any better. No, I doubt it, because I keep... that's kind of what I always used to assume. Damn it, I just admire that so much, especially at that age. It's not like she learned English growing up; she learned English in her middle age, in her 30s. Which is remarkable.
I was reflecting on this because my mom has lived in Taiwan since 2003. She has not been to the States since 2003, that was my junior year of high school. It amazes me, I think one of the most remarkable things about her is that her English is still so F-word perfect. I'm pretty sure I must be the only person she talks to in English anymore. That's on the phone for maybe once a week. Sometimes I've gone months without talking, or even years, and yet her English is perfect. She's able to understand my English, this blabbering, fast-talking bullshit. She's able to understand me, and damn it, that's just incredible. Thank God for that, also. I'm thankful for that because I can't even imagine how terrible it would be if I couldn't speak to my own mother, if we had that language barrier. I guess I already feel kind of distant from her side of the family just because they don't speak that much English, and I don't speak much Mandarin. But I don't think enough credit is given to my mother for that, and I will... damn it, I just really love everybody, all of you out there who treated my mother with kindness, respect, and love. I love you guys, because you guys, and you know who you are, really... when I look back on that, it really means a lot to me, especially knowing how much of a shit son I was.
But yeah, I just want to say that. That's kind of what I want to reflect on a bit, because my mom, it's incredible, just the journey she's been through, and the fact that she never even got a high school education until she moved to the States, and until maybe five to eight years after she moved to the States. My mom earned her GED at the same time that I was maybe finishing elementary school, when I was 10 or something. And God, I was so condescending to her. I just remember thinking, "My God, my mom only has a high school education." I just remember thinking as a kid that my mom was stupid. I really regret that. Damn it, she's such a smart woman, and I do not give her enough credit for it.
Anyway, but you guys did. A lot of you guys really did. You saw something in my mom that I failed to see. And damn it, I just really cherish all the random women, God damn it, you know who you are. I'm just thinking of Norma Jean and, yeah, the Sibireos on my street. God damn it, and thank you to the Sibireos too, because that explains why my mom made such killer tomato sauce. I have you all to thank for that, and also why I, to toot my own horn, make some killer pasta sauce as well. Almost as good as mom's.
Anyway, that had to be said, because I do not give enough praise to that woman, to my mother. She put up with a lot of crap from me and my dad. My God, how lonely must she have felt sometimes in her shoes, in Steubenville, Ohio, as a Taiwanese immigrant…
I get weirdly emotional when talking about my mom. And thank God she's okay too; she's healthy and everything's good on that account. I'm very thankful for that, especially given the state of the world these days, especially given the increasingly fragile existence of Taiwan. That's a whole different subject.
The Best in Where I Grew Up
I love you guys, and I love my hometown. Steubenville, Ohio. And while we're on the subject of things that don't get talked about enough in a positive light… Steubenville, Ohio, I think, deserves some credit, and the people there will forever get some deep-seated love from me for taking good care of my mother - when it seems it must’ve been very lonely for her as an immigrant in America - not in the bright prominent immigrant beacons like New York City and San Francisco where all the other Asians were, or even Pittsburgh - but Steubenville, Ohio!
It is quite remarkable that my mother was made to feel so welcomed in a place like Steubenville, Ohio. I think that small towns like Steubenville don't get enough acknowledgement for that at all. But let me just say that I’m thankful for that.
