The Zone

An Asian man lives in Boston. He used to own Chinese restaurants then sold one for $250,000 and another for $450,000. In the basement people would dance after dinner to David Bowie.

His name is George. George smiles and doesn’t get mad.

“Asians give loans to their family.” They’re not really loans, no paperwork is involved. It’s a concept loan, that the recipient may or may not pay back. Sometimes loans are paid back with vacations.

George’s kids send him on cruises to Hawaii, Bermuda and Guam.

He smokes cigars and talks to strangers. George is 78.

Beautiful women go on cruises. At the pool they wear bikinis and let loose. Men seem the same in suits and bathing suits. Drinks are served in coconuts.

Women talk more to strange men on cruises. It’s a friendly vibe.

George and I met at a high top table near an outside bar. It was a Tuesday on a cruise ship near the coast of Bermuda.

George wears a ship captain’s hat and a flowered button down shirt, most buttons unbuttoned.

We talked about life, women, business, population, history repeating itself and told bad jokes.

Women in their 50’s stopped to say hi.

George and I look different.

I wondered when I’d own my Chinese restaurants and thought about the day when someone would come knocking on my door asking to buy them for $250,000 and $450,000.

With history repeating itself and all, I figured this cycle would run its course through me in due time.

Some beautiful Italian women laid on top of their men on the lounge chairs, bikini’s small enough to store in a pen cap.

I found it odd and funny to think that George, a Taiwanese man, would wear a white captain’s hat with a gold emblem.

We talked about the wars of the 1900’s.

He said that the Vietnamese and some people from the Middle East share a similar belief, that death is an honorable pursuit.

We wondered how a culture that fears death could carry on a rational debate with a culture that does not fear death, rather encouraging and welcoming it.

A Jewish couple pulled up barstools next to us.

“What are the books and papers for?”

“I’m doing some writing, working on a novel, it’s pretty bad,” I said.

People like writers, even wannabe writers.

I think it’s because writing is timeless. It doesn’t disappear or rot like a pear or an iPhone after 18 months.

George was a calm dude, very patient, no judgments.

He had been around the world, seen it all, and was comfortable living peacefully amidst the chaos.

I asked George how he came up with the idea to start a Chinese restaurant in Boston when he had just moved to the US?

“There were no Chinese restaurant there, so we start one. Do very good. Then we start another.”

“Had you started a Chinese restaurant or any restaurant before these?”

“What? Oh no, first time. Whole family work at restaurant. Around the clock. Turn into bar after dinner. Invited all Chinese in Boston. American start coming too. Work nonstop. Then someone offer buy.”

I said “congratulations, you deserve it. Now you can provide for your family, give loans, go on trips with your grandkids, and give your sister and her family money in Thailand when they need it.”

“Yes, hard work, everyone get involved, and just do it.”

George’s four kids are doctors (one dentist) or work at big banks.

First and second generation immigrants eager to work, contribute and build.

I wondered what had changed in the world, or rather, what world had I grown up in that wasn’t anything like George’s world.

I’m a 6th generation American living in America.

Maybe I need to be an American living somewhere other than America, as a 1st generation immigrant eager to work, build and grateful for opportunity. Sometimes it’s easier to see opportunities when you’re far away from home.

Meeting George may have just been one of those occasions.