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PARTISAN REVIEW
boiled the sack in a caldron with black dye to make the color
uniform. My father used that sack to carry all his clothes and be–
longings, while he hid his money in the pocket of his un–
derwear. The next morning, my mother burned the joss sticks.
As a wisp of incense arose, she then placed them on the altar
desk, imploring Buddha and the spirit of our ancestors to bless
my father with good fortune.
Carrying the sack, I walked two miles with my father to see
him off. The sack was heavy and I felt it also held the uncer–
tainty and hope of my family. I wanted to lug the sack further,
but my father persuaded me to return home. I stopped and
watched him as he wandered down the tortuous road and disap–
peared behind a hill. A long journey lay ahead of him -one
day's walking, three days on a raft, and forty hours of rough
railway. Mother murmured to herself: "Buddha bless a smooth
sailing.. .it's better to get the train ticket soon, the lodging is ex–
pensive, the money is not enough to stay too long on the way."
* * *
In my father's letters, the illusory hopes and disappointing
news came in turns. In the replies Mother would dictate to me,
the first line always followed the formula handed down for gen–
erations: "Father your Excellency, I report the following under
your knees." Besides offering a few comforting words, we re–
ported our problems. This letter was written after my youngest
brother was saved from a severe attack of diarrhea:
Father your Excellency, I report the following from under your
knees:
Your letter was received and read with allegiance.
The principles about study and behavior you have taught me
are very important. I pledge to follow your advice and never
to disappoint you.
Unfortunately, my younger brother has suffered from
terrible diarrhea. Moxibustion treatment and all available
herbs have been unsuccessful. The last suggestion by our
neighbors was to hire a Taoist priest to come to his rescue,
