As a retiree, it’s an honor and a privilege to give back to my community. For the past 8 years, I’ve devoted energies to a community service project appropriately nicknamed the “Dream Project”. To those unfamiliar with this project, it’s a free college access service for low income Asians in the city of Quincy. It’s dubbed the Dream Project because of the affection I have for the job and the people I serve. To no surprise, a great majority of my clients are Asian just like me. So in many ways, it feels as though I’ve gone full circle and returned to my community.
The question is, what’s the appropriate definition of “my community”? I was born and raised in Boston’s Chinatown, more specifically, the Hudson Street section of the neighborhood. The first phase of my life took place in this small, highly insulated, ethnic enclave. It was so insulated that those who looked, talked, or walked differently, were suspiciously pigeon-holed as “outsiders!” That included Asians of other nationalities or immigrants who spoke other dialects other than our’s. We even developed our own dialect called “Chinglish”. Ultimately, each of us eventually changed and became more open-minded as years passed. However, much of what we learned in the old neighborhood was positive and enriching. We took care of our own and matured in the process. Boston’s Chinatown may have had its flaws, but to us, it was a special place and during those coming-of-age years, a special time. As quoted in an early scene of the epic gangster movie “Goodfellows”, “it was a glorious time!” No, we weren’t gangsters, but we were all proud members of our “old neighborhood” and those were indeed, glorious times.
As products of Chinatown, we were in some ways, out of touch with the real world in those days. I thought that Toisonese subculture in America. Our forefathers were the first to flee China for economic reasons. They made American history by helping to build the early railroads. Our ancestors were among China’s low-echelon, forced to emigrate to seek a better life. Many of our ancestors had a sense of optimism and even christened the New World as “Gum Sun” (Gold Mountain). Understandably, most of my peers were low-income Chinese Americans with disadvantaged parents. Most Chinatown households had both parents working as many as six days per week. Latchkey kids managed many of the households. Despite the drawbacks, we moved forward and succeeded as a community. Most of us learned to adopt our parent’s work ethic and pride in our community.
As kids, we were a band of mischievous, fun loving goofballs, who bonded together and immensely enjoyed our coming-of-age years. We experienced the same confusion and aimlessness as do some of today’s youths. Surprisingly, we persevered and eventually became productive citizens. My peers and I were largely responsible for the emergence of established organizations such as the Knights Chinese Athletic Club, the Wang YMCA, Gung Ho Club, to name a few.
We, also adapted to the challenges ahead in the so-called outside world. Most of us graduated college, while many also completed graduate school. We’ve become educators, lawyers, physicians, entrepreneurs, and other respectable professionals. A few even became politicians. Most of us now reside in the suburbs, thanks largely to the Mass Turnpike Authority. The Turnpike people eminently displaced us from our beloved community and did us a favor (or did they?). As for my family, we settled in the City of Newton, where we’ve lived for decades. Most of us from the old neighborhood followed similar blueprints. Most married childhood sweethearts (some even happily). This makes us somewhat of an anomaly in today’s society. Although many of my Hudson Street buddies also reside in Newton, things are different now. Newton is a wonderful place with nice neighbors. However, it could never be the same as Chinatown. One could easily write volumes about those glorious times, but sadly, the old neighborhood is but a collection of treasured memories, lost but not forgotten. Although, we as adults, now share many success stories, none have forgotten our humble beginnings.
Despite living the majority of a lifetime in the suburbs, my closest ties are still friends from Chinatown. Luckily for me, many of my old Hudson Street buddies also joined me in the suburbs. My monthly movie & dinner group consists of old Chinatown buddies (Albert and Bonnie Yee / James and Donna Fong). I treasure each reunion with people from the old neighborhood. In 2013, my wife and I travelled to China with a tour group consisting of my old Chinatown buddies and their wives. The trip was memorable and it was like old times again. It was comical how our tour guide amiably called us “Asian foreigners”. It’s ironic that we’ve also become to some extent “Asian foreigners” in our own beloved Chinatown.
So as I continue my volunteer services in the Quincy area, the people and surroundings are amazingly familiar to me. North Quincy is remarkably reminiscent of the old community of my youth. It’s almost like being back in Hudson Street again. I’m in a good place here – in Quincy - and it’s an honor to give back to my community.
