Ling Cong Xin, better known as Sunny Ling to his Canadian friends, died on Sunday exactly two months short of his 94th birthday. Sunny and his late wife came to Canada in 1987 to live with their daughter and her family in Lougheed. For several years, I had the privilege of being his ESL tutor.

When I met Sunny, his knowledge of the English language was already, in some ways, as good or better than mine. He had an extensive vocabulary and his understanding of the mechanics of the language was superb. Pronunciation was his biggest handicap and a real source of frustration for him. Sunny was, however, a lifelong learner who never gave up trying to improve his ability to communicate with those around him.

In addition to improving his English, Sunny had another dream. In China, he had been trained as a doctor of traditional Chinese medicine as well as an acupuncturist and it was his desire to become a certified acupuncturist in Alberta. He took the three part exam in 1993, passing the practical and oral tests but falling just short of a passing grade on the written portion which was a timed test administered only in English. In 1996, he decided to rewrite the test and we spent many of our tutoring sessions working on the required vocabulary. Again, he fell short. It was soon after that that the registry, recognizing that Sunny would have passed had he used a translator or had more time to write the test, decided to make an exemption in his case and invited him to come to Edmonton to personally accept his certificate. Though he never accomplished his dream of opening an acupuncture clinic in Lougheed, it was indeed a proud moment for Sunny. He was 84 years old at the time.

When Sunny received his certification as an acupuncturist, he was interviewed by our local newspaper and a feature article appeared. I had been trying for some time to convince him that he ought to record his memories and experiences but he had always been reluctant to do so. As we read through the newspaper article together he expressed frustration over the fact that he felt that the reporter had not understood everything he had told her. I once again told him that he ought to tell his own story. The following week, he asked if I would help and so began one of the most exciting projects that I have ever had the privilege to be involved in. As we worked together week after week, it was like sitting across the table from a living history book!

The son of Chinese parents, Sunny was born in Indonesia on January 16, 1916. He remembered carefree childhood days going to the crowded market with his mother each morning, climbing trees and playing with his friends. In 1924, his parents decided to return to China where his father would join his uncle and build a family business in Canton (present day Guangzhou). The trip across the South China Sea was a rough and terrifying one for young Cong Xin but he quickly adapted to life in China where he and his parents were surrounded by relatives from both their families.

It was here that Sunny began his formal education first attending a small private school near the family home and later, a prestigious boarding school for teenage boys. Though Sunny’s father had only had about two years of formal education, he was a self taught man who recognized that his homeland was changing and he carefully chose a school that he hoped would help prepare his son for life in the new China.

In the years that followed, Sunny lived through some of the most tumultuous decades in China’s history. He spent his first year of university in Shanghai. During that time, the presence of Japanese military personnel became more and more noticeable and when the school year ended male students were asked by the government to spend their summer vacation taking military training. After two months at a military camp outside Shanghai, Sunny returned to Canton to continue his studies there. At first life was peaceful but soon the Japanese swept through China and in the fall of 1938, Canton was captured. Most of the students and teaching staff of the university and medical school that Sunny was attending packed up and moved inland together. Travel was difficult. In order to slow down the movement of the Japanese, the government had asked people living near roads and railways to destroy them. The only option was to travel on foot. Over one thousand people set out walking all the way to Hong Kong. This is normally a trip of approximately 75 miles but a much longer, less direct route was taken in order to avoid the Japanese forces. From Hong Kong they traveled by boat and train and eventually donkey until they reached the relative safety of a small town in the countryside near Kunming. Here those who survived the trip lived and studied wherever they could find space in residential homes and temples. Sunny remembered staying in a Buddhist temple where the wind whistled through the walls. Regular classes were not held but the professors continued to guide the students as they completed assignments and wrote essays using reference books that they had carried from Canton. Much of what they learned had little to do with academics, however, and much to do with survival. The young men learned to hunt and they ate whatever they could get their hands on including snakes and wild pigs.

During this time Sunny completely lost contact with his family who had escaped to Hong Kong. Several years passed before they were reunited and it was only then that he learned that his father had contracted a serious disease and died less than a year after they parted.

In 1940, Sunny traveled by bus to the city of Chongqing which had become the wartime capital of China. There he wrote an examination and, along with approximately 120 other youths, was accepted into a training program designed to prepare them to help build up China which was by this time in political and financial ruin. Every Monday, Chiang Kai-shek, leader of the Nationalist Party or Koumintang, came to speak to the students. Sunny recalled him walking amongst the students offering words of encouragement. It still boggles my mind that week after week I sat in a coffee shop in a tiny Alberta town and listened to a man who had personally known a historical figure like Chiang Kai-shek whom I had only read about in textbooks!

After completing his training, Sunny worked for the government taxation bureau. Life in China continued to be difficult. By the time the war with Japan came to an end, the Communists, under the leadership of Mao Zedong, had gained control of large areas of northern China. Fighting soon broke out between the Communists and the Koumintang over control of the rest of the country and in 1949, the Communist forces defeated Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist forces and took control of mainland China. Sunny fled to Hong Kong and worked for a time as a journalist writing newspaper articles about what was happening in China under the Communists. Later a series of these articles was compiled and published as a small book which was of particular interest to Chinese refugees who wanted to know exactly what was happening in their country.

Returning to China, he found that life had become even more difficult. People who expressed anti government opinions were imprisoned or killed. It was illegal for people to organize for any reason. Food and other necessities were rationed and all travel required government approval. For Sunny, a former official of the Nationalist government, finding a way to support himself and his mother was the biggest challenge. He tried many different jobs from raising chickens to teaching school, eventually learning the book binding trade. During these years, though he did not establish a formal practice, Sunny was often called upon to treat the illnesses of family, friends and coworkers.

During the Cultural Revolution of the 1960s, many of China’s intellectuals were imprisoned or forced to leave the cities and take menial jobs in the countryside. Sunny, who had by that time a wife and young daughter, was forced to leave Canton in 1967 and move into the countryside. I had hoped that we might continue writing his story up to the point when he made the decision to leave China and come to Canada but when we reached this point in it’s telling he began to claim that his memory was failing him. I believe that reliving the memories simply became more than he could bear. He also expressed a genuine fear that if some of the things he told me about were ever published, the Chinese government might even today make life difficult for relatives still living in that country.

Before the Communists took over, while Sunny was working for the Nationalist government, he had occasionally traveled into the countryside to get away from the city and enjoy the scenery. It was on one of these trips that he befriended a Buddhist monk who taught him the ancient Chinese martial art of tai chi. Tai chi combines gentle exercise with deep breathing and has many benefits including improved flexibility and reduced stress. Sunny continued to practice tai chi on a daily basis for the remainder of his life. At one point, he taught me the basic movements. Sad to say, I didn’t keep up the practice and have forgotten the moves but his example was one I haven’t forgotten and it helps me stick with the exercise routine that is part of my daily life.

Several years ago, when his body began to fail and he needed more care than his daughter, who operates a small town motel and restaurant, could provide, Sunny moved to a Chinese seniors home in Edmonton. I remember when I visited him shortly after the move, how frustrated he was by the fact that most of the residents there were content to spend their days playing cards and watching TV. Sunny wanted to keep on learning and was happy to report that he’d found a new ESL tutor! Learning calls for painstaking effort, he once told me, and even in his senior years, he was a man who was willing to put in that effort.

On Saturday morning, I’ll be traveling to Edmonton to attend his funeral. I have no idea what to expect. It may be a Buddhist service and it may be conducted entirely in Chinese but I want to be there to pay my respects to a man who became a very special friend.

It’s twelve days until opening night of the Flagstaff Players production of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. We’re a long way from being ready but I have no doubt that we’ll pull it off. In order to do so, though, we’ll practically be living at the Sedgewick hall for the next two weeks!

This afternoon was costume call. We met at the hall to go through our “tickle trunks”* and figure out what everyone will wear. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll join the director and another cast member at Mopsy Tucks, a costume rental place just down the road in Lougheed, to see if we can fill in the gaps. I also have some sewing to do; mostly minor alterations.

On Wednesday, immediately after the community gathers at the hall for the annual Remembrance Day ceremony, we’ll begin constructing our set. We have a crew who are ready to move in and put it together. As usual, I’ll be there with hammer or paintbrush in hand to do whatever I can. The stage itself will be an elaborate one with several different levels but the backdrops and props will be quite simple.

It always amazes me how a play begins to come together once the set is in place. When we have walls instead of lines of masking tape on the floor, the whole thing becomes much more real and we usually move pretty quickly from hesitant and nervous to confident and ready.

Most of the cast have memorized their lines and we’ll be prying reluctant fingers from the last few scripts this week. Once we’re onstage without the scripts, we can work on voice and character development. Then the play really begins to come to life.

Richard and I have very small roles in this year’s play. Because we were away for three weeks this fall, we weren’t able to take on as much as we have in the past and have found it a little harder to get into the spirit of things. Now that the deadline is fast approaching, however, I’ll be living and breathing A Christmas Carol until the lights go out at the end of our final performance and I’ll be loving every minute of it.

*Those of you who aren’t Canadian might not know what a “tickle trunk” is but the term is familiar to anyone who grew up or parented children in Canada within the past 40 years. The name comes from Mr. Dressup, a popular children’s television series that was produced by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation from 1967 to 1996. The show, which aired every weekday morning, starred Ernie Coombs as Mr. Dressup. Each day, one segment of the show featured his Tickle Trunk, from which he would get a costume. It might be an animal costume, or a policeman’s or fireman’s uniform, or some other outfit in which he would dress up and play whatever role was suggested by the costume. The trunk must have been magic as it always had the right costume, in the right size, neatly folded at the very top. I can only wish that our “tickle trunks” were as well equipped!

This has been the view out our front windows for the past seven months. For close to 30 years, we looked out at a vacant lot. In the summer, the town kept it mowed and it was a great place for kids to play. Several winters, when our children were young, Richard ran a garden hose across the street and flooded the lower end of the lot to provide a skating rink for the neighbourhood. We celebrated one of Matthew’s February birthdays with a skating party and bonfire on the vacant lot. Our old tent trailer spent many winters parked in one of its corners.

We didn’t really expect anyone to buy the long, narrow corner lot but shortly before we left for Japan, we learned that it had sold. While we were gone, we heard from friends and neighbours that a monster house was being built across from ours. We came back expecting to see a finished house but this is what greeted us. It hasn’t changed one iota since. We understand that it’s at the centre of a lawsuit between the owner and one of the contractors who insisted on being paid for work he didn’t do. Apparently, nothing more can be done until the suit is settled.

For awhile, during the summer, the lot became an eyesore with building supplies strewn around and gigantic weeds everywhere. I thought about complaining to the town office but before I did, the owners showed up and cleaned up a bit. That’s the only time I’ve seen them there.

Though the house is much too big for the lot and dwarfs everything around it, I like the design and was anxious to see what it would look like finished. Now, with so much time gone by, I wonder if it will ever be completed or if it will gradually deteriorate and eventually have to be torn down.

Recently, one of our neighbours referred to it as the haunted house. I hadn’t thought of it until then but it definitely has that look, especially at night with the moon rising over it. Tomorrow evening as I open the door to little ghosts and goblins, I’ll have to watch for spooks in the shadows of the haunted house!

We’re home from our trip to Vancouver and planning to stay for awhile so we’re debating whether or not to put our names back on the substitute teacher list. We know that our skills are in demand and the pay would supplement our pensions rather nicely but we’re really not sure we want to.

After retiring in June of 2007, we both did quite a bit of subbing until we left for Japan in February 2008. In Japan, we taught full time for 12 months with our longest break being only two weeks. It was an amazing experience but, by the time it was over, we were definitely ready for a break from the classroom. We decided that we wouldn’t put our names back on the sub list until at least the end of this October. There’s a shortage of qualified substitute teachers in this area, however, and we hadn’t been back in town for 24 hours when the phone rang the first time and we were asked if one of us could come in the following day! We declined but the phone continued to ring quite regularly throughout the remainder of the school year. We thought it might begin again in September but, since our names still didn’t appear on the list, I guess the message finally sank in.

Neither of us would mind subbing occasionally if we always knew in advance and could plan accordingly. There are many times when teachers have medical appointments or workshops to attend and are able to book their subs in advance but there are also those early morning phone calls! We remember the times when we woke up sick during the night and simply couldn’t go to school in the morning and sympathize with the poor teachers who find themselves in that boat but we’ve developed the delightful habit of sleeping in until 8 o’clock most mornings and dread the thought of the phone waking us an hour or more before that! With flu season upon us, we know that that could happen frequently.

It might not be too bad if we were certain that the phone would only ring once but, unlike most larger jurisdictions, there’s no central dispatch for subs in our area. Each teacher is responsible for calling their own sub so a person can end up fielding many calls for the same day. We also know that ours is a number that many teachers would call first because they have a two for one chance of getting someone.

For many years, in spite of the fact that I enjoyed my teaching career, I had what I called my “school dreams” in the days leading up to each new school year.  These were dreams in which everything went wrong.  All a teacher’s worst nightmares would visit me as the end of August approached! One of the nice things about retirement has been the absence of these dreams; until the past week, that is! Since we started discussing whether or not to begin subbing again, I’ve had several “school dreams” and in each one, I’ve been a substitute teacher! I spent one night dealing with a mixed class of grade 1 and grade 9 students and another night with a class of unruly high school English students who were supposed to be writing stories.  Instead, some of them laid on the floor, hid behind the shelves, or wandered in and out of the classroom while others gathered around tables and played cards! Last night even Richard had a “school dream”!  He dreamt that two of the most difficult students that he ever dealt with were in the same grade 5 class. In real life, these two young men are close to a generation apart in age but dreams are like that. They don’t always make a lot of sense but I wonder if these ones are telling us something?

The unfortunate part of substitute teaching is that it can sometimes be as trying as the scenarios in my dreams. I subbed for three years earlier in my career and during that time, I worked hard to establish a reputation amongst the students. I knew I’d succeeded when I walked through the halls of the high school and heard comments like “Oh no, it’s her!  We’re going to have to work today.” It wasn’t easy building that rep though and I’m not sure if I want to try to do it all over again.

On the other hand, we still love kids and winter is going to be long so maybe…  All I can say for sure at this point is that we have definitely decided not to do anything for another week or so, so that if we do walk into a classroom again, it won’t be until the post Halloween sugar highs have run their course!

Written Sunday, October 12:

We missed Thanksgiving while living in Japan last year. We’re making up for it with two celebrations this year. Yesterday, I prepared the traditional turkey dinner at my parents’ home here in Vancouver. We were joined around the heavily laden table by my older brother, Donald; our son, Matt; his wife, Robin and our littlest grandson, Sam, who at just fifteen days old, weighed less than the turkey! It was his first introduction to his greatgrandparents. Today, we’ll be joining Robin’s family for a second Thanksgiving dinner at her parents’ home.

As we approached this Thankgiving season, I began to ask myself what I am truly thankful for this year.  Here, in no particular order, is a list of things that came to mind:

–   the free gift of salvation that makes everything else in life worthwhile

–   family, particularly the addition of grandchildren to my life

–  dreams come true, especially the opportunity to spend a year living in         Japan

–   the amazing country that we call home and the opportunity to enjoy so        much of it this year

–   retirement, the freedom to do what we want to do when we want to do it

–   good health

–   wonderful friends

–   financial security

–   contentment

What more could anyone ask for? I am truly blessed.

We don’t have internet access at my parents’ home in Vancouver but I’m writing anyway and will post whenever I’m able.  The following was written on Saturday, October 10.

I’ve been afraid of heights for as long as I can remember but today I challenged that fear and won! Overcoming this phobia has actually been a long and gradual process. When my children were young I was determined not to pass my fear on to them so I forced myself to do things and go places that I might otherwise have avoided. I remember riding the glass elevator up the outside of the CN Tower in Toronto with them in 1991. I stood as far back as I could and still, by the time we reached the top, the brochure that I was carrying literally bore the imprint of my white knuckled fingers, I was clutching it so tightly.

I’ve also been determined to live life to the fullest and not to allow fear to keep me from seeing and experiencing all that it has to offer. Consequently, over time the fear has gradually diminished. Climbing Mount Fuji last year was a definite turning point. Since we climbed at night and couldn’t see beyond the area that was illuminated by our flashlights, my fear didn’t really kick in until after sunrise the following morning when we began our descent. At first, I was almost paralysed but once you’ve reached a mountaintop, staying there isn’t an option! I had no choice but to force myself to begin the downward climb. The trail was wide and, in my head, I knew that it was perfectly safe but that didn’t make it any easier. As I forced myself to continue putting one foot in front of the other, however, I gradually relaxed and began to enjoy the views laid out below us. By the time we reached the bottom, I knew that I had conquered a giant.

This fall, on a particularly windy day during harvest, it was necessary for either Louis or I to climb to the top of one granary to check whether or not it was full and then another to open the hatch. The only ladder that we had at our disposal was quite flimsy and in the wind, we didn’t consider it safe enough so he lifted me to the top of the granaries in the bucket of his front end loader!  To reach the hatch on the second one, I had to climb out of the bucket onto the top of the granary. There was a time when I couldn’t have forced myself to do that but it was actually fun. That’s when I knew it was time to challenge my long held fear of suspension bridges!

For several years, while growing up, I lived within walking distance of Lynn Valley Canyon in North Vancouver. As a terrified teen, I crossed the suspension bridge that dangles some 50 metres above the canyon a few times but I always had nightmares afterward. Returning as a adult some years later, I was unable to step foot on it. Even though the children were with us, I simply couldn’t force myself. They crossed with their father and grandfather while I stood by and watched.

Before we came to Vancouver this time, feeling confident that my fear was finally under control, I determined that we would visit the park again and that I would cross that bridge. I thought to go one day next week when the park wouldn’t likely be crowded and I might even be able to cross alone without the vibration caused by many people crossing at once. This morning, however, we woke to beautiful sunshine and even though it’s a long weekend and I knew that the park would be busy, I decided that today was the day.

We went directly to the bridge and I crossed, not once, not twice, but five times! The first time, I stepped out confidently but crossed with some hesitation and didn’t look down. The second time, I stopped midway and enjoyed the view and by the fifth time, I crossed without even touching the handrails! What a victory!

Will fear of heights ever threaten me again? I don’t know, but if it does I know that I will remember that I’ve crossed the bridge and hopefully that will give me the courage to step out in confidence.

Last Friday was our 33rd wedding anniversary. We drove to Calgary that day and spent the weekend with our daughter, son-in-law and 17 month old grandson, Andrew. While we were there, the first snow of the season fell. In my opinion, it came much too early!

Monday was my birthday. We left Calgary that morning and drove to Cranbrook, BC via Banff and Radium. The drive through the mountains was spectacular with fresh snow and sunshine on the peaks and fall colours all around us. What a gift!

After spending the night with friends, we continued our journey to Vancouver the following day to meet our newest grandson, Sam. What an exciting moment that was! Because we were living in Japan when Andrew was born, we didn’t meet him until he was over 10 months old. Needless to say, we’re cherishing the opportunity see and hold newborn Sam who is sound asleep in his bassinet behind me. I can hear his tiny breaths and little grunts as I write.

In addition to enjoying our time with the grandchildren, it’s been a pleasure to watch our children become parents. Melaina has proven herself to be a wonderful mom and to see Matt, a competent world traveler and soon to be full fledged lawyer, tenderly holding his wee son in his big hands and to hear him extolling the virtues of a new baby stroller or comparing diaper brands is truly delightful! As grandparents, we couldn’t be prouder.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that my retirement years would include seasonal farm labour but it’s harvest time again and I’ve spent many hours on a combine this week! Though harvest is late this year, we’re enjoying an unusually warm and dry September allowing us put in long productive days. As I cross the golden wheat fields, I’m surrounded by the beauty of the season and can almost see the leaves turning brilliant shades of yellow and orange around me.

Fall holds another delight for us this year.  Our second grandchild is due just two weeks from today! Since he’ll be putting in his appearance in Vancouver, we’ll be on the road again when harvest is over.

Fall is also drama season. Five performances of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol are scheduled for the last two weekends of November. Auditions have taken place, the cast list has been posted and the first rehearsal took place this week. Since we can’t commit to a heavy rehearsal schedule this year, Richard and I have both taken very minor roles this time. Fortunately, our director understands the importance of both harvest and meeting new grandchildren!