A visit from Mr. Lee and how it changed our stay in Taiwan
Mr. Lee came to our house about two months after we arrived in Taiwan, in the fall of 1961.
My husband introduced him and said we’d be teaching him English, which meant I’d be teaching him English, but that was fine. While the Military Advisory Group was there to support the Chinese Army, the families were there to help in any way we could. Mr. Lee was Taiwanese.
Our family would spend three years on the island that was once called “Beautiful Formosa,” now, Taiwan. We knew almost nothing of the history. We looked forward to meeting the people of the area. We assumed they would all be Chinese. While the members of the military received training in language and customs, wives mostly got fliers about snakes and rats.
“110 varieties of poison snakes, on this island 245 miles long and 90 miles across. That’s a lot of snakes,” the young soldier standing by the door said, handing out Welcome to Taiwan fliers from the U.S. Government at the orientation meeting.
“If bitten by a viper,” the paper said, “keep calm and consult a doctor as soon as possible. Don’t put ice on it.” It wasn’t clear whether it meant the viper or the bite or both.
Turns out the viper population was exaggerated. There are only 50 varieties of snakes and a scant 6 types of vipers. “Pay close attention to the color pattern of any vipers that bite so that we can treat you properly,” said the flier helpfully.
We quickly adapted, as military families learn to do. First Kid, age 7, began selling her 5-year-old brother’s action figures to the Buy-Buy men who regularly came to the door. Only when he displeased her, she pointed out, but he displeased her pretty often.
We met none of the threatened vipers, but we made lifelong friends.
Kuney Lee was a young Taiwanese accountant whose father had disappeared in mainland China. Mr. Lee lived with his mother and was comfortable with the fact that she would pick his wife. Our arrangement was that I would teach him English, and he would teach me Mandarin. What could go wrong?
After three months, my best phrase was, “How Bu How, Maymow?” which seemed to translate to “How do you do, Eyebrow,” This was not practical.
Mr. Lee threw in the towel and conceded that I was pretty much unteachable. Unwilling to accept lessons without giving something back, he took us to see his island. We met the aboriginal people in the mountains and visited the Buddhist temple where his mother received her medical prescriptions. In their tiny home in Taipei, Mr. Lee’s mother and six of her friends prepared for us the best meal of our lives.
The people we met on that lovely island were kind, smart, dedicated and independent, Taiwanese to their toes. They said little but had ways of letting us know their feelings. SuSu, the delightful young woman who helped me make order out our house, found my 2-year-old an eager student of the local language. Little kids learn language so fast. They made a game of his lessons. She taught my blond, blue-eyed boy to smile sweetly up at uniformed Chinese soldiers and curse them in flawless Mandarin. Not too subtle but clear intent.
Mr. Lee and his family visited our Lakewood home a few years ago. He had just retired as owner of one of the largest businesses in Taipei, and he kindly credited our English lessons for giving him a start. “I have come to thank my friend,” he said.
So on a foggy August morning, he stood by my husband’s grave, left flowers, wept quietly and said thank you. I asked him the question that had puzzled me all this time.
”Mr. Lee,” I said, “how did you find us, all those years ago?” His answer was that as American troops and people from all over the world poured onto his tiny island, he realized that a young man who could speak English would have a bright future. He knew three words of English. What could he do?
A brilliant idea came to him. Every day he boarded the bus to the American Military compound and took a brisk constitutional walk around the walls. Perfectly normal. He spoke to every soldier he saw. He knew they would have learned at least some Mandarin. Finally, on the fifth day, my husband, answered him and he was part of our lives forever.
“Don’t forget us,” Mr. Lee said at the end of the visit. “We work hard to stay independent.”
He couldn’t really retire. “There is too much work to do, “ he said, “while there is still a chance.”
Where to find Dorothy in August
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