An exciting creative burst began in 2008 in which Eth-Noh-Tec was asked to present at Portland, Oregon’s Hearing Voices festival with the theme of Immigration. Nancy researched and wrote about her ancestors arriving in 1850 onto the shores of California.

Then in 2009, JustStories in Evanston, Illinois, commissioned Nancy to write her mother’s story. Many attempts had been made before, one was even performed. But, with her mother’s death in 2008 came an entire new experience of their mother-daughter relationship. A reading will happen in January 2010 in San Francisco with a fully enacted premiere on April 17, 2010 in Chicago.

Here are excerpts of each story – not starting at the beginning – but nonetheless a part of each story. Red Altar will be a full evening concert of 1 hour, 15 minutes; Bittersweet will be 30-45 minutes in length.

Enjoy! Feedback welcomed!

“Tough! I’m tough!”

This was mom’s mantra: “I’m tough!” And she was.

But she was not just tough. She was one of the most courageous women I have known. She never let anything stop her. She tried everything put before her. She was never afraid to try something new. She was never afraid of failure, and certainly not of success. She did not hesitate before anything or anyone.

As a 7 year-old little girl, she braved the bus rides all alone through the big city of Chicago to take dance classes. She braved running from her dance class up the street to her daddy’s restaurant to smile and prance before his staff and then settle down to her favorite roast beef meal.

She braved his death when she was only — and at 12 left for China wither older sister, braving the long ocean ride, the civil unrest in Hong Kong, the inability to understand the foreign language, the sitting and jeering as they sat as teens in 1st grade.

In college, her arm raised to answer each new call for someone to represent Yenching University in volleyball, track, brod jump, discus throwing, baseball, bicycling, tennis. And she thrived on competition – and she thrived on winning – and she won lots of medals. In fact, Mr. Lai told me she was considered one of the top 10 athletes in China at that time.

Oh yeah…She was tough!

When the family in Chicago called her back in 1937 for a family reunion, she never intended to stay. She was to return to assist China’s war effort as the Educational Director of the Red Cross. But, she met Dad.

And as wonderful as Dad was, she would need to be ‘tough’. With his total dedication to his work and the community, Dad left mom to take care of everything else – running the household efficiently, balancing the finances, handling all the demands of 4 children. Money was scarce from a war torn China, and as the wife of this Chinese diplomat, she had to earn a steady income working nights as a nurse. She had to be ‘tough’ and when she lost 30 lbs. her 1st year of marriage, life had been tough on her as well.

She was to go from a nursing career, to that of a tour guide in Chinatown and a tour guide for Chicago as well. She faithfully filled out the weekly cross word puzzles in the Tribune to win one thousand dollars – a lot back in the 50’s. Finally, she worked long hours as a financial consultant. She did well. She succeeded. She was unafraid to cold call, to reach out to strangers, to offer them a way to not only save their money, but to grow it.

And it was a natural profession for her because she was good at saving money! She had to with 4 children and a husband who lived to serve and thought nothing of making money.

So she became the ultimate bargain hunter. She even demanded extra service from doctors and dentists without having to pay for it (often to our embarrassment).

Oh. She was tough! And she expected everyone else to be tough, too, or you weren’t worth much of anything

She was a bargain hunter to the end. In her final years in SF, at 92, at 93, 94 95, 96 – she walked the neighborhood every day searching for a good deal. She didn’t need anything mind you, but she loved finding good deals!

She loved altering and mending the skirt or jacket or pants she’d bought for $3.99! She’d have me drive to pick up a rug or a chair she’d found for $7.99! What a buy! She could spot amazing finds amidst the cluttered shelves of Goodwill or the Salvation Army store or her favorite Out of the Closet. She was quick! Being a bargain hunter myself, we’d sometimes go together. As soon as we hit the door, she was off on her own and me on mine. When we’d find ourselves in the same aisle, her basket would be full of interesting and sometimes things I wished I’d seen first. She had an eye for finding the needle in the haystack!

She cooked for herself and she also bought her own groceries walking from Chinese to Mexican stores getting the best deal. She took herself to the dentist or climbed up the bus to the doctor’s. She made herself walk everyday and if she fell, she picked herself right up and kept walking.

When I suggested she use a cane, or one of those walkers with wheels, and a place to sit and a basket to hold her purchases, she simply barked: “I’m not that old!”

Yet, she liked bragging how old she was. One of her pet peeves was when people didn’t say hello to her – specially the grandchildren. When I suggested that she could say hello first, she balked “Hmmf! Why should I? I’m the elder.” She would not give an inch to anyone!

She was tough and proud of it!

In my mom’s last 6 months after her heart attack, she was a changed woman. She was no longer brusque, dour, bitter, angry or complaining. She found her happiness. One of the first things she told me after her heart attack was that she’d had a happy childhood. We’d never heard that before! In fact, all we heard was how horrible life was until she was in China away from her family.

She was still tough, but it was a different kind. It was a steadfast and persistent courage coated with a gentleness, humor, patience and gratitude. She was a different person than I had known.

She kept trying to keep her legs strong, walking up and down the hallway. She taught her caregiver how to make pigs feet, chicken feet, won ton and sweet and sour riblets. She finally surrendered to the wheelchair when her legs could no longer hold her up. She still went bargain hunting, tho, wheeling from rack to rack! And she taught at least 6 of us – family, lo fon friends and her Fijian caregiver how to play her beloved mah jong.

Oh she played a tough game, too. But she was fun to play with. She was a feisty and witty player. She collected those nickels we played for with a vengeance! At the same time, she was amazingly generous and patient as a teacher even as she waited forever as we mah jong neophytes tried to figure out what to do next.

Mom died as she wanted – in her own home and in her sleep.

Mom may not have been a favored child growing up or as beautiful as her older sister, but many of you who have gardens know that amidst the lovely flowers is the weed that persists with life. It is the toughest. Pull it out, and soon another pushes itself through the dirt toward the sky over and over and over again. And that plant, considered ‘just a noxious weed’, if allowed, blossoms forth with a tiny brightly colored and very tough and courageous flower. That was Gladys Wang. That was my mom.

I love you, mom. And I miss you.

Red Altar

(excerpt from Nancy’s Immigration story)

…“Jiao lei! Let’s go!”

The teens jumped up and soon the wind billowed the sails and the junk began its journey out into the wide-open waters.

In all, there were five junks- theirs and 4 others that left the shores of the Philippines on that early morning in the summer of 1849. But now, 7 months later, only 2 junks remained in sight. One junk would land far north on Cascade Beach in the land of the giant trees – in Mendocino, a town just getting started. Their own junk was blown south of their mark by stormy weather and the strong current – near the shores of San Diego and Mexico. Now they had to fight the bullish current and northwesterly winds to return back north toward San Francisco.

Blackened clouds gathered to clash, sending down buckets of rain, and slashing winds mounted the waves higher and higher. The winter storm conspired to sink their junk, but they would not give up.

“Gum Sann – where are you! I know you are close,” Quock Bo shouted into the winds.

“Not close enough! It has been so long. I can’t stand it anymore!” cried out So May.

The junk began to lose the battle as water lapped up over the sides and the wind tore at the sails. The junk listed side to side dangerously, nearly tipping over onto its side. The wind was pushing them closer and closer to the rocky shore. Surely this would gash the side of the junk, sending them all overboard to drown.

“There! There! Ahead! A beach. A soft landing if we can steer her there! Mung! Mung! Pull! Pull!” the men shouted.

But the wind continued to gust, shredding the sails and rendering them useless. Lifting their kerosene lamps, they saw that the tide began to push them toward a rocky shore. They had been fighting the storm for an entire day and into the night. Little was left of their will to fight. Yet, the Dragon King and Tin Hau must have watched over them with a keen eye. Somehow, the junk missed the rocky cliff and spilled its inhabitants into the waves rushing toward a beach.

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The sun rose over a calm sky. Waves lapped at the sandy shores. Off in the distance, a junk boat gently rocked. Tattered sails bobbed up and down dancing with the slow rhythm of the water as it headed to shore and out again.

On the sand sprawled six bodies. Two laid on their backs; one on her side; the other three on their stomachs. Several pairs of bare feet surrounded the six, careful not to step on black hair spreading out like fingers pointing toward land.