Kerry Hotel. Kowloon. Hong Kong.

Wasn’t really ready for another long trip and before I could react I found myself freezing to death inside a 777 reading Lung Yin-Tai’s book about the Chinese Civil War, 1949, not sure how to translate the book title accurately. I got emotional half way through the first chapter. Thought it was the air pressure tricking me but the plane was still on the ground when I teared up. 

Suddenly everything became emotional. 

Truth be told it took me awhile to pick up this book from the my bookshelf. I was well aware of the controversy regarding the author’s political point of view and the so-called “fast-food history”. And even reading it I found myself agreeing with most of the criticism. But to me anyone looking for some kind of cultural resolutions in  this book might have missed the point. This is Lung’s journey in understanding the history related to herself and her family. It’s her emotional response attempting to piece together a puzzle — We don’t ever see a full picture of anything anyway. (Not while we live on this earth). In that sense her journey is a private one. And me reading it is also a deeply personal experience. It’s my emotional response to understand the generation before me, about my grandmother and the part of her life she rarely talked about. 

I’ve always resented the idea of “The Greatest Generation”. To me holding up a black and white photo and say “Look at these  good ol’ American heroes!” is nostalgic to the point of irrational. No generation is better than another. They (we) all face their (our) own challenges and must figure out a way to live on. In peace time and in war time. 

But I understand, hearing my grandmother describing her experience running from the Japanese troops while bombs flying over their heads is fundamentally different from my mother complaining about some things her in-laws said to her decades ago. 

Grandma described it with very little emotion. Mom would do it with pure anger. 

Individuals do react differently to our troubles. But to say H. W.’s  generation is greater than G. W. Is laughable. Just like Lung’s effort in trying to connect the Chinese Civil War and the refugees of 1949 to Post War Europe. It doesn’t connect, at least not for me. 

At the end, understanding the traumatizing history of wars may not have much effects in our lives (if at all). It could easily just be us saying “Do you know about that horrible thing? About how the Japanese raped Nanking? About how many civilians died because of Jiang’s poor direction in fighting off the Communists?”

And that’s my pessimistic view. We took a peek at the struggles of the last generation and move on to our own. Mom would not stop talking about my dad even if she knew everything about what my grandma went through. We turn to ourselves, and so it is. 

But deep down something is in the works. When we attempt to comprehend someone else’s sufferings, we are given the opportunity to accept, that after all, we are just human beings doing our best. And with that insignificant wink to our fellow humans, we might just be a little more gentle, a little more forgiving , and a little more loving when we go on our daily lives. 

Maybe that’s all there is. And maybe that’s enough.