This campfire tale starts with a polar bear and ends up in Taipei
.jpg "The polar bear at the Anchorage, Alaska, airport in the 1960s was 12 feet tall, stuffed and supposedly the biggest polar bear ever shot.")
You remember the giant polar bear, don’t you? If you ever stopped in the Anchorage Airport, you must remember.
He was 12 feet tall and, yes, he was stuffed and supposedly the biggest polar bear ever shot. Travelers got used to seeing the bear, visiting him in the airport entrance.
But that was our first look and he certainly didn’t look dead. He didn’t even look disinterested. We couldn’t escape the feeling that perhaps the bear wasn’t really stuffed and he might come down and start going through the children’s snack bags at any moment.
Largest recorded polar bear, shot in Alaska in 1960. The children looked forward to seeing him, and spreading a picnic at his huge feet. I’ve got to tell you that in those days we didn’t give much thought to why and how an animal had been hunted. He was there and he was big. That was enough.
My husband had made his will, and as I belted the children into their airplane seats, I found myself believing glumly that this might be a one-way trip. After all, we were going to the other side of the world. Maybe we wouldn’t be coming back. We were a long, long way from Seattle or Spokane.
My husband would be a MAAG (Military Assistance Advisory Group) adviser to the Chinese Army. We would live in Taiwan for three years, and didn’t yet know that Taiwan and China were not the same thing.
Since August is the very best time for campfires and storytelling, I do have a story to tell you and it starts with that bear in the airport.
I was very queasy about the fact that one day we were enjoying the World’s Fair in Seattle and the next day we were on our way to Taipei, a flight of more than 24 hours.
It was October 1962 when we lifted away from Seattle and left the World’s Fair behind. Our baby, 9 months old, was strapped into his car seat and then his seat belt. Two children, 4 and 5, were seat belted in.
We had been in the air for two full days with just that brief stop in Alaska and one in the Philippines, but I felt very smart because in Tokyo the other young mother in our group had to spend the whole break period sterilizing bottles and preparing formula, but as I was feeding my baby boy with what came naturally, I got to spend our time on the ground napping, and I will tell you that a nap is more important than jewels at a time like that.
I looked at the area around us as the plane settled into the landing glide path and we were coming down. There did not seem to be a runway. We skidded to a halt in what seemed to be an unbroken stretch of water and plants.
As I tried to get my bearings, a huge water buffalo lifted his head right at the end of the wing, and glared at me with contempt. He also was drooling furiously. I would not have said previously that an animal could drool with contempt, but he certainly did. I clutched the baby and whispered Dorothy’s line from “The Wizard of Oz.”
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.”
We were on the ground, in the capitol city of Taipei. Our sponsors had found a house in Tien Mou village.
I was only clear about one thing: I was determined not to have a maid. I would take care of things by myself as I always had. I was adamant.
And then SuSu came to live with us and I was lost. Unfailingly courteous and bright, she had traveled from her home in Keelung at the south of Taiwan.
If a member of the Army came into the house, she immediately and abruptly went out to the back steps where she sat, pleasant but immovable. I tried to reason with her. She smiled brightly and repeated. “Yes, Missy, I know. Many Chinese, very wonderful, very brave. I just hate..”
We learned a lot in our time in Taiwan. For instance, SuSu had the care of our little son, Ross, and he was darling with big blue eyes and blond curls, and she taught him to go to Chinese soldiers standing at the bus stop near our home. They would all think he was adorable and want to pat his head, and he would curse them in faultless Mandarin.
SuSu’s story is important to me because it shows how the local people felt, that they were doing what they could. I certainly didn’t think of her as a patriot at the time, but she was one, wasn’t she?
So as these long August days roll by, it’s a good time to share family stories of life-changing times and maybe keep an eye out for bears.
Where to find Dorothy in August
- Find the latest episodes of Swimming Upstream and Coffee Chat and Change the World at https://itsnevertoolate.com/