LIFE LESSONS I LEARNED FROM MY DAD


1.	A GOOD LIBRARY CAN SHAPE YOUR DESTINY.

As a teenager during the difficult and impoverished years of the Indochina war, dad taught at a village school far from home to provide for his family after grandfather’s early death.  Fortuitously, a wealthy old man saw promise in this youth and kindly opened his vast home library to him.   Dad recalled the thrill of having access to shelves upon shelves of books spanning the breadth of human knowledge over millennia.   And plunge in he did and read everything –science, technology, philosophy, history, religion, art and literature, both Eastern to Western.   He devoured the Tao Te Ching, the I-Ching and Tang poetry as ardently as Plato, Aristotle, Shakespeare, and Tolstoy.   His mind filled and burst with knowledge and ideas; new ways of thinking and seeing the world that led him to a life-long love of learning and exploration.  These classics must have also molded his character and guided his conducts the rest of his life.

As a young man, he taught himself electronic principles and repairs through the few scant books and mostly through hands-on experiments.   He started and built up very successful electronics businesses through his extreme hard work and ingenuity, and brought prosperity, comfort, dignity to his family.   He became a well-respected member of the community, contributing to schools, civic and philanthropic organizations in his small town. 

As a middle-aged man starting over in a new country and no longer his own boss, dad was determined to keep up his professional knowledge and skills for his electronics repair job in Lynchburg.   He spent evenings after work poring over homework (like his school-aged children) to complete a mail-correspondence course with a vocational institute in Hong Kong, and earned a certificate in the new field of digital electronics.  
   
As an old man in ill health and wheelchair bound, dad continued to feed his mind and passion for learning by taking a Coursera class on Chinese poetry.  He relished the lyrical poems and the insightful lectures, which must have helped him transcend the confines of his waning days.  

Not just lofty erudition, early on dad had also self-mastered the art and skills of writing, public speaking, conversation, painting, critical thinking and deep analysis.  They manifested in his impassioned speeches at community events and his witty repartee among friends.   And in his poignant farewell letter to Lynchburg published in the local paper and read on the radio the day we moved to California.  One could see it in his elegant watercolors and dignified Chinese calligraphy, and hear it in his enchanting storytelling and uproarious jokes.   His analyses and commentaries on world events were original and insightful that rivaled those of New York Times’ op-eds.  

With little formal education, dad had forged himself into a multi-talented man and shaped his own destiny.   We often wonder if he had grown up in America or another country rich with opportunities, what scientific breakthrough, what ingenious invention, what bold enterprise, what philanthropic mission, what literary or artistic masterpiece dad could have contributed to the world. 


2.	KNOWING THE RIGHT CURE CAN GET YOU OUT OF JAIL.

As a young man, dad was imprisoned by the Communist for political reasons, and he was due to be executed the next day.  But that night the jail warden was wracked by deadly intestinal pains, fever and chills, convulsing and suffering.  Desperate, he sent the prison guards out asking anyone there knew how to cure him.   Dad raised his hand, “I know!”  He instructed them to gather certain herbs, smash them up and make a brew to drink.   Like a miracle the warden was cured, and in turn dad’s life was spared and he was released from prison!

When I heard this amazing story from Chu recently, I was reminded of Joseph of the Old Testament, who was also released from prison because of his superior ability to interpret the Pharaoh’s dreams.   Dad learned the cure from his avid study of his physician father’s Chinese medical texts.    Ever curious, dad loved to learn widely and deeply, and who knew that one day, some niche and arcane knowledge could get him out of jail and save his life.


3.  WHEN PEOPLE ARE DOWN AND OUT, FEED THEM A BOWL OF PHO.

One morning around 1979, I woke up and went downstairs in our home in Qui Nhon, and found to my astonishment a throng of strangers slumping against the wall and sprawling on the floor of the corridor stretching from the front of the house to the back.  There must have been at least 30 some men, women, children and babies, all looking disheveled and dejected.  They had sold their possessions and left their hometowns to flee Communist Vietnam, but their captain never showed up, leaving them strained with no boat to get out of the country and no home to return to.    

Someone directed these down-and-out victims to my father’s house for refuge.   Dad called in a street vendor, and ordered everyone a bowl of steaming hot pho.   The invigorating aromas of star anise and basil filled our house that day, and their hopes were revived after slurping that nourishing soup.  Dad housed them for several more days.  He gave money to some and clothes to others and helped them return to their hometowns.   
    
As a kid, I was puzzled by my father’s openly taking in all those seeming intruders, without worrying about the safety of his family.   As an adult, I admire his Samaritan spirit and his magnanimity.   He acted out of compassion toward his fellow human beings, who were robbed and left along the road--so to speak--without expecting any gratitude or payback, as he would never see them again.


4.	CHERISH YOUR FAMILY ABOVE ALL ELSE.

Looking back, I marveled that dad was ahead of his time in his approach to parenting at a time when fathers were usually stern and aloof.   With a full-time job and numerous responsibilities, dad still committed time and devoted energy to expend on 6 kids, teaching and nurturing us and making our childhoods so much fun.  

When we were little kids in Vietnam, dad would often tell us bedtime stories from the classic American children's books -- Make Way for Ducklings, Petunia, The Biggest Bear, and others.   I never got tired of hearing the familiar stories over and over, and would crack up with glee every time dad turned the page and bellowed “boom!” at the scene of the massive explosion with farm animals flung in all directions because of the foolish goose.  Or feel delighted and comforted every time the big bear found his way home.  And the image of the mother duck bravely leading a line of her adorable babies across a busy street, stopping all traffic, stuck with me for years, and I had to locate the story’s setting when I went to college in Boston.    
 
Dad didn’t just read the stories but brought them to life with his animated voice and expressions, embellishing each with his own details.   In Lynchburg, our favorite pastime was listening to his enraptured storytelling of The Monkey King, The Three Kingdoms, or The Dream of the Red Chamber.    All 6 kids plus our cousins would pile onto the long pink sofa in the living room with dad in the center.   I’d always claim my spot on top of the back rest, lying horizontally against the wall to have a direct view of the graphics in the book.   For the next hours, we would be magically transported on wondrous adventures in faraway lands and distant eras by his spellbinding yarns.  Our imaginations exploded. 

Dad would often give us puzzles to solve, riddles to crack, scientific challenges to figure out.  He was involved in our homework and school projects:  from patiently looking up and explaining the meaning of each new word in my textbook when I was first learning English; to discussing the great literary classics with me that sparked brilliant ideas for my high school term papers.   He was always encouraging and expecting us to do our best, and so proud of our achievements.   We’d cringe with embarrassment whenever he rattled off our awards to visitors and showed off our trophies.  But deep down, we knew he was genuinely believing in us, and it gave us the confidence to aim higher. 

Academics wasn't the only focus, dad had also made growing up fun.   Always an explorer, dad would drag the whole brood (wife and 6 kids) every weekend to discover a different part of Hong Kong during our 6 months limbo in the refugee camp.   I remember squeezing into crowded, stifling hot double-decker buses, or luxuriating in the cool breeze on the slow ferry ride across the harbor.   We hit amusement parks and beaches, street markets and temples.  We braved a white-knuckled slog up a long and tortuous unpaved mountain road just to see a secluded monastery.     It wasn’t always fun, and sometimes a bit stressful.   But dad had turned our unsettling refugee situation into some sort of a memorable family escapade.   The exposure to travels and adventures must have ignited my wanderlust into adulthood.

On my first school field trip to Williamsburg as a fourth grader, dad taught me how to operate a camera and frame a scene.  After the trip, I couldn't wait to see how my photos turned out, and the weeks of waiting for the film to develop was the most agonizing anticipations in memory.  But it was all worth it when dad sat down and reviewed the results with me and showered me with praises.  I was ecstatic!  Now I appreciate that dad had entrusted me, barely a 10-year-old, with his own camera on an overnight trip far from home.  And this experience had fueled my love for photography ever since. 

In retrospect, I realize my wide-ranging interests, curiosity, values, zeal for adventure and exploration are all attributed to my father’s strong influence throughout my life.   He had shaped me to become who I am today.  

It was evident family was always his number one priority and his greatest love, and I hope to carry on dad’s expansive spirit and deep convictions for the rest of my life.

I really miss you, dad.  

Love, 
Jen

Dear Alex, An, Ellen, Jen,  Mei Hao and Peter, 

I wanted to write to you to send you my condolences on the passing of your father.

I know it must be a difficult time for you but I know you will all find solace in the remarkable life your father led and the remarkable legacy he has left behind. It must be apparent to all and particularly to family members like myself, whilst we are separated by so much distance, that his greatest achievement must certainly be the family that he brought together to a new land and the future he created for all of you. Your family, your values, and your achievements have always been a source of inspiration for me.     

I hope to see you all sometime soon.

All the best,

Andrew

My Dad

Curiosity in learning is what my Dad used to tell me all the time while growing up.  It's because he always wanted to know more about things deeply and how they could be applied. He was a believer in knowledge for practical purposes.  At an early age, I had already started learning about electronics from him by hands-on experiments, exploring the mysterious world of mysticism and magic, and re-living his life's experiences through his wonderful storytelling.  When I became a working adult, every time I called home, he'd ask me what is the  latest in technologies, or we'd discuss interesting new discoveries, covering a wide range of topics like the medicinal properties of plants. 

Curiosity about the world and the relentless desire to learn is what I've learned from him.   I'm very grateful to my Dad for the many things he had taught me throughout my life.  He was a loving Dad and a dutiful parent.  

Now as a dad myself,  I'm trying to inspire my son to be always curiously smart in learning and testing what he's learned in practice as well.

I love you, Dad, for inspiring me to carry on your lessons. You're always in my heart, and thank, God, for all of Your caring, love, and life. 

OBITUARY

Yan Zhi Chen

October 20, 1933 – March 3, 2019

El Camino Memorial - Sorrento Valley & Memorial Park

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