June 7, 2007
A few years ago I sat in the lobby of a dental office waiting for my appointment. There were magazines on the table. I picked up a Reader’s Digest and dived into the Lives in These United States. There was this story about a Greek immigrant who owned a Greek restaurant in New York City. His son tried to convince him to hire an accountant to improve his bookkeeping. The dad wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, the son said, “How else will you know how much money you have made?”The dad answered:
It’s really not that hard to figure out. 40 years ago I came to this country when I was 17 years old. Other than what I was wearing, I had 2 pair of pants and 3 pots. Today, you are an accountant, your sister is a doctor, your brother is a lawyer, and I own this restaurant. Take all these, minus two pairs of pants and 3 pots, that’s how much I have made.
Madam Toastmaster, most welcomed guests, and fellow toastmasters:
Today I’d like to talk about a story about another immigrant, Yours Truly.
I was born and raised in Taiwan. After graduating from college, I got married, finished my mandatory 2-year military service, and a master degree in Biology. It occurred to me that I wanted to go to American to further my education.
It was 27 years ago. Leaving my wife and my 1-year old daughter at home, I packed up and headed for America. What I had on me was a military backpack and $3,000 in traveler’s checks. The $3,000 came from my dad who worked as a high school teacher. It was not easy to save that much money on his income then. My wife sewed the traveler’s checks inside my underwear. I felt very secure, but let me tell you, physically it was not very comfortable sitting in the plane for 30 hours with those crisp checks reminding you of their existence--especially when you have to go to the bathroom.
When I checked in to the dorm, a Taiwanese upper classman gathered us new comers from Taiwan together and said he would show us country bums how big America was. He took us from Chicago to Cleveland. It was miles upon miles of cornfield. By the roadside, we saw a huge basket full of corns and a small cookie jar with a few dollars inside. A hand written sign said, “10 corns for 1 dollar”. We did not see anybody around anywhere. It was amazing that nobody had taken the whole basket AND the cookie jar as well. Anyway, I put a dollar in the jar and we started to pick our 10 corns, someone saw us and walked over. I immediately started to practice in my mind how to explain that we had already put in the one dollar and that we were not stealing. It was a beautiful blond girl, perhaps in her early 20’s. She did not question us about stealing; she was more interested in finding out where we came from, which school we went to, what we were studying. All the time, she was calling us honey, sweet heart, and kept on giving us one ear after another of corns.
Back then, we hadn’t seen many blond girls other than movie stars in Hollywood movies. Now this Grace Kelly look alike, who must be a few years younger than us, was calling us honeys and sweet hearts and the only thing in my mind was how to explain politely that we didn’t have enough money for all those corns. It was a good thing she said not to worry about the money. That’s my first impression of America.
Those corns were the sweetest corns I had ever had. A few days later, I went to a Kentucky Fried Chicken wanting to order a cup of corn soup. Nobody understood me. I had to spell out C-O-R-N
And there are memories not so funny but even more heart-warming. In order to be easier to find a job, I changed my major from biology to Biomedical Engineering and moved to another school in Cleveland. My wife brought our 18-month old daughter to stay with me. I had to make up for many engineering courses in undergraduate school. I struggled with physics, computer science, and electronics. In desperation, I told the foreign student advisor about my difficulty. She said I needed a tutor. I told her I didn’t have the money. She picked up the phone and called the professors. Half an hour later, tutors were provided to me in the evenings; free of charge. That’s how I got my Master’s degree in Biomedical Engineering.
After getting my degree, I needed a job. I sent out hundreds of resumes, but did not get anywhere because they all required permanent residency. Then someone told me I might have better luck in the Silicon Valley. So I sent my wife and daughter home to Taiwan and bought a one-way ticket to San Francisco, found a motel in Mountain View, and started my job search again. A whole month went by without any success. My wife said for better for worse the family should stick together. That was a very good advice. Because the day before they were due to arrive, I got 3 job offers.
I chose to work on being a research engineer in a company making diagnostic ultrasound systems. That’s 1983. From then, I changed jobs 3 times, worked my way through technical positions and became a software group manager at Siemens Medical Solutions in Issaquah. In Sep. 2005, the Project Management Institute certified me for Project Management Professional (PMP). In Oct. same year, in a massive restructuring, Siemens laid off 9 software group managers, the software director, all the V.P’s. along with the CEO. I was lucky to be spared, because of my PMP credential. I am now a Project Manager at Siemens.
27 years ago I landed in this country, a stranger in a strange land—strange; they don’t have corn soup in KFC. I was not able to speak coherent English to order a cup of corn soup. Today I am giving a speech in English in front of a group of toastmasters. Yes, I am shaking. But, at least I can write home telling my dad I am brave enough to attempt it. The only worry I have is not to shake too noticeably.
My wife used to work for H&R Block preparing tax returns for people. She often argued with our friends when they complained about paying too much tax. You cannot find a better person than my wife arguing in favor of the tax law. Today, she works at King County Library because she enjoys talking with people, finding out what books people are reading and benefit from that.
27 years ago, I was a poor skinny student spending money my parents and my wife saved with much sweating. Today, I have (this beer belly and) a house in Sammamish. My 1-year old daughter is now married and working as a dentist in Seattle. The whole family is going to attend my son’s commencement tomorrow at UW. We often joked that Andy is the only one in the family eligible to be elected president of the United States. My wife and I celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary last year.
All these, minus the military backpack and the $3,000, were due to the opportunities given to me by the American society. I deeply appreciate that America adopted my family and me as its citizen and into its society. I got a bargain in this immigration deal; I hope I can hold up my end of the deal so that the American society won’t regret adopting us.
Ladies and Gentlemen, this is my little tale of an immigrant’s experience in America.
Madam Toastmaster.
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