Memories, shared, by the father and son, they’re so very close to one another too, and, this, is a very hard to come by parent-child relationship. Translated…
The elderly can’t hear so well anymore, Zu-Guan was more than patient, with his lips close to his father’s ear, reported live to his father, who’s currently speaking, what, is being said…
Since I could remember, I’d ever held my father’s hands.
Even a couple of years before he died, when I took him to get his hair trimmed, accompanying him across the intersections, I’d only wrapped my arms around his arms, and stroked his loosened muscles through his clothes, and feel the temperatures of his body through his shirt.
When I discovered, him, a young man, a little over thirty, I’m thinking? From the very beginning, had held on to his ninety-year-old, blind father’s hand, my heart, was hurting now, from being pounded on.
Helping You Hear, Holding Your Hand
His name, Zu-Guan Yang. Based off of my speculation, a little bit past thirty. When he was just a newborn, his sixty-year-old father became blind, and his mother left the house.
Zu-Guan’s father, with the pseudonym of “Mason”, originally named Ping-Chun Yang, is blind and elderly, and still he wrote every single day, not only was he able to manage a novel of six hundred thousand characters in just six years, he’d also won the Golden Drinking Cup Prize and the Prize for Novel Writing, and cranked out “The Story of Wild Grapes”, “The Tears of Youth”, “A Rash Man”, along with the philosophical collection “The New Me Idealism”, “This, is What Confucius Said”. With the seventeen years, he’d managed the “Mason on Literature” with 250,000 characters; what’s more amazing was, two years later, he’d written, “This, is How Laotzu Stated it”; and heard, that he has a new book out next year too.
What fueled to Mason’s writing? Could it be what he’d said, “The love for literature, ‘til death”? If he’d led an ordinary life, with an unsettled mind, could he have let his own thoughts soar in the darkness, to allow his pen to fly over the papers?
I think, his son, Zu-Guan was his primary assistant, to help him become such a well-published writer.
Zu-Guan would check to see if there’s still ink in his father’s pen, and, guided the ruler that tied to the pen to steady itself, so it won’t slip off, helped his father proofread, type, collect the essays, and, carried his father’s thick manuscripts, to knock on the doors of the publishers……..
This young man in how he interacted with the world around, is very well-rounded, I wondered, how it is, that Mason had taught his son? Maybe, it’s a side effect from my journalism days, before I find the answers, I’d used a magnifying glass, to examine Mason’s clean face, along with Zu-Guan’s face too.
The elderly can no longer hear so well, Zu-Guan patiently transferred what was said, reported it live, to his father, who’s talking now, what’s being said. The father would prod, had his voice would get very loud, and, that hint of apologetic would come up to Zu-Guan’s face, and, get close to his father’s ear, and answered him. After the father understood what was going on currently, he’d squinted his eyes, like a philosopher, thinking. His father’s palms were faced up, Zu-Guan’s, down, gently, and patted his father, to tell him, “No matter what, I’m here with you.”
And this, is the closeness of a father and a son, which, is still very rare these days, and, can you imagine the kindness that the father must’ve shown the son when he was younger, for the son to reciprocate it back to him now???