Meeting My Own Past on a Special Day of Remembrance

Every Memorial Day, we as a nation take time to pay tribute to our brave military men and women and remember those who have sacrificed so much for our freedom.

Two years ago, this special day of reflection and remembrance brought me the chance for a special commemoration – and an unlikely meeting with my own past. My husband, Mark, and I were driving back from Toronto, Canada, where we had just attended the international launch of my Chinese historical memoir, Once Our Lives. After some 20 years of writing and editing, you can imagine how excited I was to meet my publisher and present my book for the first time to an audience of readers, critics, and authors.

I tried to savor every minute of it, in spite of the long road trips back and forth from our home in Bethesda, Maryland. On our way back, a delay at the border crossing added two hours to our trip, making it impossible to get home by dinnertime and prompting us to stop for a late lunch along the way.

We soon found ourselves passing through a remote town in upstate New York called Ellicottville and were pleasantly surprised by its stunning beauty. Sitting in the foothills of the Allegany Mountains, it was quite an attractive, 19th Century resort town with a grand view of luscious green mountains and ski slopes, a row of quaint shops, upscale bars, and restaurants.

Fearing that it would soon end its lunch service, we quickly walked into a café, found a table in the back, and ordered some burgers and barbecue in the spirit of Memorial Day. As we waited for our food, I surveyed the dimly lit room and its small handful of patrons. My attention was soon lured toward a display of desserts at the front entrance. I went to check it out.

“The cookies are very good.” I heard a calm and kind voice and turned toward it. There he was, an elderly gentleman, sitting alone in the corner and sipping coffee with his back against the wall. He was wearing a worn orange t-shirt and a crisp grey cap embroidered with the word “Navy.” Despite being indoors, he had a pair of sunglasses on. He smiled at me and quietly nodded his head.

Qin meets a friend from her past.

“Thank you. Perhaps I will consider them after I have my lunch.” I smiled back at him before walking back to my table.

Toward the end of the meal, our waiter surprised us with a plate of cookies. “The gentleman over there bought them for you,” he explained.

The stranger’s generosity touched us. We went over to thank him. I told him about the launch of my book and how we were heading back home. Since he wore a Navy hat, I also told him about my one and only experience with the American military.

Thirty-five years ago, I had been a tour guide for American tourists visiting Shanghai. As part of my duties, I was assigned to be the interpreter when three U.S. Navy ships made a historic visit to China in 1989.

“I was there,” he said in a quiet, pleased voice. Behind their dark lenses, I detected a pair of transfixed eyes staring into the distance. He told me that he was a Navy cook and continued in the culinary profession until his retirement.

“Remember the acrobat show you watched? I was the English announcer that night.” I was excited to share my part of the story, how I conducted the Shanghai tour for a busload of sailors, and how, at the end of the day, as they hopped off the bus, each placed his hat on my lap. I was at a loss about what to do with the hats. We talked like two old friends having a reunion.

Soon, we said goodbye to our new/old Navy friend so we could continue on our way home. For the rest of the drive, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about this sailor, a man of seemingly limited means, behaving so generously to us – two strangers. Was he sitting in the café waiting for us to arrive? Did he sense that we once shared a historic moment when a U.S. battleship arrived in a distant Eastern port?

Now, on every last Monday in May, I give thanks not only to those who gave us freedom, but to a single sailor who gave me a cookie and a most memorable Memorial Day.

Reflections From The East Column

By Qin Stubis

You can always reach me at qstubis@gmail.com, or please visit me at QinSunStubis.com. You can find a copy of my book, Once Our Lives, online at Amazon.com