All Over Creation (8 page)

So, in case you want to know, I am fine now. Last year was pretty harsh. I was living on the street for a while, panhandling and stuff, but I got by. After that I was sort of adopted by some good people here in Berkeley. It's a real Pan-Asian scene out here, some Japanese, some Korean, some mixed like me—sure is different from Idaho! We live in a big house, and they're mostly all college students, so they have good values when it comes to education. They make sure I go to school every day, and they also help me with my homework. One of them took me to see the cherry blossoms in a real Japanese garden. It's called
hana-mi
in Japanese which means “flower gazing.” Have you ever heard about this? It reminded me of your garden in the spring, Mom. I'll bet it's still too early for flowers in Idaho, huh?

Don't worry about me. Don't bother writing back unless you want to, but I should warn you that I'm not ever coming back to Liberty Falls. I hope you are fine and that everything on the farm is fine, too.

Yours truly,
Yumi

 

P.S. If you see Cassie Unger around, please tell her to write back.

 

 

July 1976

 

Dear Mom,

Wow, you actually answered my letter! I didn't expect Daddy would let you. Maybe he didn't. Maybe I shouldn't be writing to you at all, because it will only get you into trouble, but I guess you can handle him. I'm the one who couldn't. Did I always make him so mad? (That's called a rhetorical question, which means you don't have to answer it.)

Anyway, I'm sorry Daddy had a heart attack, but I'm glad it wasn't too serious and he's okay now. I hope he's not still totally angry at me. I guess I feel a little guilty, but deep down I don't think what I did was so bad. I was just a stupid kid, dumb enough to get in trouble, but smart enough to do something about it. I know he would call that sinful, and maybe you think so, too, but that's just your opinion. Honestly, I wouldn't change what I did, but I guess there's no point in even talking about it. I know he won't forgive me, and probably you don't approve either. That's okay. I appreciate you writing back. Do you miss me? I miss you sometimes. If the time ever seems right, please tell him that I love him in spite of everything.

love, Yumi

 

P.S. That's too bad about Carl Unger losing his farm, but it's good that he can go and work for Daddy. Do you ever see Cass? I sent her a bunch of letters, but she never writes me back.

 

 

July 1979

 

Dear Mom,

Wow, thanks for the money order. Guess what I'm going to spend it on? My college textbooks! I got into Berkeley. I got a scholarship and everything! I think I'm going to major in Asian Studies, or maybe English. Or both. So I'll need lots of books, and the money will totally come in handy. By the way, where are you getting it from anyway? Does Dad know?

 

 

April 1983

 

Dear Mom,

So how's the seed business going? Are you planting yet, or is it still too cold? I guess with the new greenhouse you can get a jump on the season. I think it's so cool that you made a business out of it, all on your own. I'm so proud of you!

Thanks again for the money. It's hard at the end of the semester, making ends meet. Anyway, you won't have to worry about me for a while. It looks like I'm getting a prize for a paper I wrote. It's called “The Exiled Self: Fragmentation of Identity in Asian-American Literature.” Pretty heavy, huh? And the best thing is, it comes with a check for a thousand dollars! Isn't that cool? I wish you could come to graduation.

I'm sorry to hear about Mrs. Unger. She was nice, even if her husband was a creep. When you wrote that he died, I was glad because finally she could be free of him, but maybe she just got hooked on all that abuse and couldn't live without it. I'm glad Cassie married a nice man and got out of there. She never did write me, but if you see her, tell her I said hi.

Are you sure you can't come to the graduation? No, I know you can't. But, I'm thinking maybe I should try writing to Daddy myself.

Love, Yumi

 

 

April 1983

 

Dear Dad,

I am writing to tell you that I am graduating from the University of California at Berkeley this year, and I would like to invite you and Mom to the graduation, if you would like to come.

We haven't seen each other for just over eight years now. This really makes me sad. I know there is a lot we don't agree upon, but you are my father, and I would like to have a relationship with you again. I know you think what I did was wrong, and I won't ask you to forgive me, but won't you even talk to me?

I'm graduating with honors in English and Asian Studies, and I'm also receiving a prize. I'm not bragging. I was just hoping that maybe you would be happy to know. I'm enclosing two round-trip plane tickets for you and Mommy that I bought with my prize money. I hope you'll come.

I love you, Yumi

 

 

May 1983

 

Momoko and Lloyd,

I hate you.

 

 

November 1983

 

Dear Mom,

Thanks for your letter. It took awhile for it to catch up with me. I moved out of the Berkeley house and got a job writing grants for a professor in Plant Sciences. He says that normally he never would have hired an English major, but he was surprised at how much I knew about agricultural stuff. He says I must have just absorbed it, growing up on a farm. Anyway, I need the job since I've decided to go to grad school.

Thanks for the money order. I meant those tickets to be a gift to you and Lloyd, but I can use the money for books.

 

 

March 1984

 

Dear Momoko,

Why do we have such a difficult relationship? Why can't we just love each other like a normal family? I'm trying to understand why I'm so scared of having kids of my own, and I realized it's because I'm afraid of screwing them up. My friend thinks it's important for me to share my feelings about this with you, so that's what I'm doing.

 

p.s. please give the enclosed letter to Daddy.

 

 

March 1984

 

Dear Lloyd,
Fuck you.
Yumi

 

 

November 1984

 

Dear Momoko and Lloyd,

I'm writing to tell you that you have a grandson. His name is Phoenix, and he was born on the first day of November. He weighed 9 lbs. 5 oz. at birth. He is a magical baby, and I am overjoyed.

I hope you will find it in your heart to be glad. I know I never do things the way you want me to, and I suppose the first thing you will want to know is if I am married. I am not. And you should also know that Phoenix's father and I don't intend to get married. Paul is the Plant Sciences professor I've been working for. I've known him since he was a grad student, and we lived in the Berkeley house together. He's the one who got me off the street and off drugs—I never told you much about that year, but it was bad, and I can honestly say that I owe him my life. He's gay, but we decided to have this child together because, well, that's what happened, and this is San Francisco, and it just seemed right. (Paul is Japanese, Mom, a
sansei.
His last name is Yamamoto, and he comes from a long line of gardeners, too.) Anyway, he and I both agree that since normal families are so screwed up and dysfunctional, we might as well try to have an abnormal one. He's smart and kind and handsome. He'll be a wonderful and nonjudgmental father.

 

 

December 1985

 

Dear Momoko,

Thanks for the letter. It finally caught up to me here in Portland. Paul and I decided to get married after all. He got a job at the University of Oregon, and I came here to be with him. I'm back in school, working on my master's and teaching part-time. Rents are a lot cheaper than in Berkeley, but it rains a lot. Phoenix is one now, and he is so beautiful. I wish you could see him.

 

 

December 1987

 

Dear Mom,

You didn't tell me that Lloyd had a second heart attack in '83. Is that why you didn't come to my graduation? You don't have to answer that. It doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm glad that he was okay. He sure is lucky, isn't he? You don't have to answer that either.

Phoenix is doing great. He's three now, and I've got him in preschool, which hopefully will give me a chance to finish my master's thesis. It's called “Fading Blossoms, Falling Leaves: Visions of Transience and Instability in the Literature of the Asian-American Diaspora.” Basically, it's about the way images of nature are used as metaphors for cultural dissolution.

Are you still doing the garden and selling seeds? My love of plants is purely poetic, and Paul thinks it's funny the way I kill anything I actually try to grow. His interest is purely scientific, so we balance each other out. He's doing well, by the way. He got a job offer in the plant-breeding program at the U of Texas, so we may have to move to Dallas. Yuck.

May 1989

 

Dear Mom,

Well, it's final. I got my master's, and Paul and I are getting a divorce. I guess I should have seen it coming. The good news is that he's finally getting tenure, so he can pay child support. I'll need it—the pay scale for the kind of adjunct teaching gigs I can get is for shit. Anyway, I'm sick of Texas, and I'm thinking of moving someplace with a larger Asian presence, so Phoenix doesn't have to grow up twisted. I think I may have a chance at a teaching fellowship at the University of Hawaii, where I could work on my Ph.D. Wouldn't that be exotic?

 

 

August 1992

 

Dear Momoko and Lloyd,

I'm writing to tell you of the birth of your first granddaughter, Ocean Eugenia, born on June 21—a summer-solstice child. I'm sending you a picture. She has Fuller eyes. I'm living in Honolulu now. Phoenix and I are living with Ocean's father in a great house on the beach. He runs a surf shop. I'm still working on my degree and teaching, but it's more laid back here, and maybe I've got a better attitude. Paul used to say that adjunct teaching was like any economy of scale, and you just have to treat it like farming potatoes—standardize your product, increase your volume, work the margins, and make sure your courses are cosmetically flawless. Whatever. It's really so beautiful here, and as long as the kids are happy, it's okay for now.

Aloha,
Yumi

 

 

February 1997

 

Dear Momoko and Lloyd,

Well, I haven't heard from you for a really long time, so here's the news: Whether you like it or not, you have a new grandson. If you want to know his name, you can write and ask me.

Yumi

P.S. This is the last one you are going to get.

 

 

December 3, 1998

 

Dear Cassie,

Wow. Is this really you? I got your e-mail and then your letter. Thank you for telling me about Lloyd and Momoko. I've been wondering what's been going on with them, and this explains why she stopped writing. I hope they're still okay?

Anyway, I went back and forth about your suggestion—I have some pretty complex feelings about my parents, as you can imagine—but I've decided I should see them. I can take a month off during winter break, so I'll be arriving in Pocatello before Christmas. I'll e-mail you with the date and times. Do you think you could pick me up at the airport?

It will be interesting to see each other, don't you think? After all these years?

second

And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind . . .

—Genesis 1:12