Title: A Journey Interrupted: From Green Bay to Japan and Back Again
Posted: 26 April 2005 | Revised Edition
Today, my mother-in-law called from Illinois and informed me that she would purchase the plane tickets for my wife and kids. It would happen in two weeks or so. I am relieved, needless to say, as it takes a load off my mind. Now, it’s a matter of psyching myself up to face the upcoming journey back to the land of Lincoln—and beyond.
It has been almost ten years since I was last in the States, and I genuinely look forward to returning. I left San Francisco in 1995 for Japan, where my family and I lived for three years before moving here. Japan was a good transitional place for me after living in the U.S. for 21 years of my life.
I was 25 years old when I left Malaysia in 1973 with my first wife and our four-month-old son. Looking back, I realize I’ve circled the globe four times in my life so far. My first stop in America was Green Bay, Wisconsin. I lived in "Pecker country" for eight years, working for three of those as a boner—a meat cutter—to get myself off the ground. What a job it was for someone who had never seen snow before. It was demeaning and dehumanizing, mind and body, but perhaps the most effective way to build character. Coming from a culture unprepared for the harshness of a redneck town like Green Bay, it forced me to adapt or be broken. I slowly, but surely, became a regular drunk—a certified Peckerhead.
Green Bay was a major life lesson. The ups and the many downs, especially working in the packing houses. But it forged something in me. A few years later, I was divorced and living like a bum on my own.
Ya, hey! Green Bay!
Bart Starr and the Packers. Chicken booyah. Old Style beer.
I remember living on a farm out on Humboldt Road with my landlord, Mr. Leon P. Lodl, a unique man in his own way. He educated me, turning me from a mixed-up Malaysian kid into more of a gentleman. He taught me how to appreciate wine instead of guzzling beer, and turned me on to jazz and classical music. We’d drive up north to Iron Mountain, Michigan, where Leon owned a church he was converting into a ski lodge. On those trips, I saw some of the most beautiful countryside, especially in the fall. I’ll never forget standing atop one of the world’s tallest ski ramps, looking down over three U.S. states and Canada. The leaves were changing. It was a sea of color all around me, and when Leon asked if I could paint that view, I told him only God could.
Later, I was persuaded to join the University of Wisconsin, Green Bay, where I spent five of the best years of my life earning a degree in Fine Arts. Through a program called University Without Walls, I was able to travel to England, South America, and eventually back to Malaysia. Travel, I suppose, has always been in my blood. I’ve been fortunate to live in different corners of the world, and I hope that continues until I’m too old to do it anymore.
For now, I was looking forward to seeing the good old Midwest again—the cornfields, the silos, the lazy summer months, and the bone-chilling winters.
Asta la vista, Malaysia.
But it wasn’t meant to be.
I later found out that I wouldn’t be allowed to accompany my ailing wife and children to the U.S., due to tightened immigration policies following the 9/11 attacks. My children, only eleven and twelve at the time, had to escort their mother all the way from Kuala Lumpur to Illinois by themselves. Not a month passed before my mother-in-law realized she couldn’t manage both the kids and my sick wife. She made the painful decision to send the children back to Malaysia. I felt deeply sorry for her, burdened by the cost and the struggle.
These were some of the darkest days of my life. I often wonder how I managed to stay sane through all the guilt and uncertainty. But in the end, all I could do was accept what had happened and quietly remind myself:
This, too, shall pass.
#LifeJourney #GreenBayMemoirs #MalaysiaToAmerica #ImmigrantStories #FineArtsLife #UniversityWithoutWalls #MeatPackingReality #ZenInExile #JazzAndWine #AmericanMidwest #Post911Struggles #FatherhoodChallenges #TravelAsHealing #ThisTooShallPass #ResilientSpirit #HealingThroughArt #MemoirWriting #MixedCultures #LivingThroughItAll #BlogLifeReflections
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