My Dad is a difficult person to blog about, because he always has a mask so thick that I do not know how he feels most of the time. His name is Decheng by the way. If I have to use one phrase to summarize him, it would be “wasted genius”. If I can be regarded as smart, my dad’s gene must contribute 90% (sorry, mom, but it is the truth). However, my dad was born in a very different era, when jobs were assigned, when marriage was not based on love but on economic calculation, when family responsibility overtook personal freedom. In that time, genius was easily wasted. The reason? Well, it is hard to say, but my theory is that when you are smart intellectually, you are retarded socially. When a society focused on family/community rather than individual development, smart people are screwed. My dad numbed his feeling as a self protection, so that he would escape the boring secular life and breathe a fresh air in intelligence on his own. I am lucky that I am out of there.
So from early on, my dad became my role model with a strange twist: I want to be as smart as my dad as well as anything that he is not. My dad used to give me question set beyond my grade, and I took on it without a sweat. But after a while, I began to question, “what’s the point?” If everything would lead to a life just like my dad’s, I would go crazy. So even I was so good at math, physics and chemistry, I hated the prospect of a life that just repeats my dad’s. That’s part of the reason why I tried to switch to sociology. I did not know what sociology was that time, but it was a rational choice for me that time. I thought taking a risk was at least better than to have my life following a boring blueprint. I am still not sure whether my choice is a good one, until today. Sometimes I miss the time when my dad asked to solve a complicated math problem. It was my golden age, when intellectual pursue does not attach to material gain, and I had fun just out of solving the question, rather than expecting the tangible benefit that might come along. And I do not know what my dad would think of my choice: a betrayal of family tradition or a fulfillment of a path that he himself never got a chance to follow?
Anyway, I took joy of beating my dad in any possible way. He is so good at chess that I never had a chance to beat him, so I gave up trying. He taught me to play “go”, which I later got so good at that I could beat him easily. Then I gave up “go”. I guess beating my dad is one of the main goals why I perfected my “go” skills in the first place. For math (my dad was a math teacher), I began to feel bored only after I felt I could solve the questions that my dad could not. Only after beating my dad I would question, “What’s the point? What else is possible?” That’s when I tried to pursue a life beyond my dad’s shadow. However, I am still somehow in his shadow. He goes to library a lot, just to read random books and magazines. I am a same nerd. I do not know why I go to library so often, but when I have nothing to do in the end of the day, library is the default. I just do not know why, and I want to contribute that to my dad.
My dad never felt comfortable in social interactions. He is book-smart without any street wisdom. He does not understand that people should act differently in different social situations. He would approach an informal conversation in an extended family gathering the same way that he would engage to an academic conference. For that, he would be laughed at. The laughing is never in a bad way, but it makes me feel uneasy. It taught me two important lessons. One, I would try my best to be socially effective. Two, I would respect people who are just different from the mainstream society. Behind an awkward conversation is usually an amazing personality. I hope that I have taken that to heart.
Some snapshot of my moments with my dad. The first thing emerges is that time when my dad taught me to ride a bike. We were in the big block of grass, and my dad would tell me that he was holding the back seat to stabilize the bike. But sometime he would just let it go without my noticing. But when I noticed, I would be scared to fall. After a while, I got much better. But for some weird reason, I always fell after one circle on the grass. I guess we shared some laugh together that time. He called me as too “Jiao Yao”, a reason why I fell after one good circle, and I was amused by the different ways that I can fell and by his strange explanation.
Moments like this were scarce though. Most of my interaction with my dad happened in the small apartment, where everyone was uptight. The small space led to more friction than physical intimacy. Both my dad and I had a tendency to go out for a brief escape. He goes to library. And I went to
Well, this blog is supposed to be about my dad, but I ended up talking about me. As usual, you would say. But this one really comes with a reason. Although from the beginning I want to be unlike my dad, the premise is that I am must alike him. I am so scared of being like him in the future so I escape from everything he is, intellectually and physically. In some way, my dad and I embody two different possibilities of the same story. We probably had the same genetic endowment, but I was born in a very different time with new opportunities, and I could look up to my dad to take whatever I like and avoid the pitfalls that he experienced. I hope he is proud of me now.
My dad is getting old. His white hair is dominating his head now. He is not as quick as before. He began to have bad memories. He wants to learn English and computers, but he is no longer a quick learner as he wants to believe. He is also a little overwhelmed by all the changes after reforms, probably a little easy about how young people could disregard families and communities to pursue personal development. Maybe I can eventually beat him in chess some day. Happy father’s day, dad. Thanks for your genetic contribution, and please be proud how far I can go with it.
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