Chapter 12 - THE EPISCOPALIANS ARE OUT

As they gained back some strength and recovered from the illnesses, parasites, and malaria, their moods changed. I had read that after the initial excitement, there was almost an inevitable dip, sometimes into depression. I soon saw this begin to exhibit itself. The realization of everything that had happened to them was starting to hit them hard.

I thought it was time to find them jobs, and a place of their own, but also called a meeting of the buddies, to explain what I was seeing, and ask them to be supportive in this new stage.

I called in a friend, a local psychiatrist to help us understand how to do this. He attended the meeting and gave us some good guidelines. He also felt that jobs, if at all possible would help.

We began our search. Many ideas, many tried and failed interviews, their English was still such a problem. Frustrated I walked the floors, not knowing how to accomplish this. And I managed to find a few little job interviews for Bobby, but this was also a huge problem!

Tek would lose face. He was head of the family, he must be first, and it had to be a better job than the others! I thought this was impossible. This frail older man, how could I solve this? How could I disappoint poor Bobby again, there would be no possibility for him to go to school. He had his heart set on higher education, but for now, he would have to accept the responsibility of breadwinner. He would have to, even if I could find old Tek a job.

I talked with Goodie, Bert, and Lorne. I harassed Carol with questions and thoughts. We all came to the conclusion, however painful, that we would have to take jobs as they came, we cannot worry more about Tek’s feelings, and we cannot let them work for minimum wage, because they will never be able to live on that with all these kids. The minimum was around 3.10 per hour. All we had found was minimum wage at McDonald’s, it wouldn’t do, they needed a fighting chance. And we cannot find a way for Bobby to go to school.

Out of ideas, and options I made a phone call to my father. I felt my family did not approve of what I was doing, and I didn’t want to call, but I decided it just had to be done. My dad had been President of the American Home Builders Association. He knew a lot of people, and a lot of people liked him. He could help me if he wanted to. I was awake the whole night before, sick to my stomach, asking for something always did that to me. “ What if he says no? “ I thought. “ What if he lectures me on doing all this and ignoring my marriage?” “What if, what if…” I tortured myself. I called.

“Sure, I can help.” Answered my father right away, “Let me see, I will give Marty a call, and let him know that you will get in touch. Give me a day or two, then call him, Martin Walters, at Richmond Insulators. He’s a nice guy, and always needs good workers, says he often can’t find them. Let me give you one tip, though. They will need a driver’s license.” No fuss, no lecture, just a simple yes. It was my own neurosis, as usual. “ A license, uh oh. Well maybe fast lessons for Bobby, but Hung will take a little longer.“ I supposed it would take longer for Hung to be ready to read the test.

We went on the interview, I went along this time. Both men were very excited and so eager. Marty was really helpful. He explained the job, in detail, taking his time. He showed them the material, the fiberglass insulation, the batts, and the blowing material. He told them how irritating it could be for skin and eyes. He showed them the tools they would use, and the blowing machine. He let them use a staple gun, and hold the blower, and turn it on/off to feel the power. He explained that he provided uniform coveralls, goggles, hardhats, and gloves, that they would need steel-toed shoes and they might want to purchase some knee pads. He showed them the warehouse. And then the trucks they would drive. Then he told them, “ I want to give you a chance, so as soon as one of you gets a license, you can both start as a team.” They shook hands enthusiastically.

Bobby knew what he had to do, and had his driver’s manual book memorized in four days. For the driving, I called on the meeting again, volunteers came in a constant stream, an hour at a time, to help Bobby and Hung learn. Bobby drove, Hung watched every move, and the volunteers observed and assisted when needed. Bobby had his license before the month ended, and Hung was ready, but for his English, he was working hard. Although he failed his written exam twice, he passed, and had his license, too within three months.

They started their jobs the Monday after Bobby got his license. Marty remained helpful, making detailed maps of each worksite, on their work cards. He added landmarks for them. He always had teams of two men, so Bobby and Hung were a team, but they also worked on big sites with other teams, especially in the beginning, and they learned more and more. The men they worked with said they got a kick out of helping them with their American English, on the job. The first week they learned “Big Mac, French fries, and a coke, please?” And ”Bro“ soon afterward came “What the hell ?” Their work was miserable, hard, dirty, and skin irritating work. And they were often given the hardest dirtiest parts, crawling into the damp crawl spaces under homes, encountering snakes and all kinds of vermin. Or they were working long hours in sweltering heat in the attics, with the blowing machine, which blew insulation into the smallest spaces, which unfortunately meant their ears, hair, every crevice of their bodies, nothing escaped the tiny itching fiberglass fibers. Their skin itched constantly, and they were so happy to get changed from their work clothes and get a shower at the end of the day. But they persisted and did well. Marty was more than pleased with them as employees and called them his “A-Team” in a short time. And they understood that it was good money and a chance. It was the beginning, of financial stability, and an eye-opening experience. Working class America, up close and personal.

For the time being at least, this meant Bobby’s dream of higher education was replaced by announcing he would save and buy a Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. The foreman at work had one.

And one Saturday I hosted a tea, in my home given to introduce sponsorship of refugees to several women representing other interested church groups in the area. The group was a bit rigid and cool, but everything had gone pretty well. Annie had helped me serve and had charmed them all, with her sweetness. Kan joined in, and they were impressed with how well she was speaking English, she learned quickly and was one of the best. She was so poised and graceful. The little girls had followed Annie in a little traditional dance. It was all so lovely, so civil. Then in came Hung and Bobb from the job. Before he even realized what he was doing, Hung exclaimed “Some Motherfucker stole my fucking tools !” oh, yes they learned quickly. Dear Annie, trying to rescue the situation, blurted out, “No MotherFucker, Hung, a thief!” “Yes ! “ answered Hung. “A MotherFucking Thief.” I nearly fell off my chair, I had been so taken by surprise that I had breathed in my tea, and began wheezing. The looks on the ladies' faces are a picture I shall never forget. Goodie had remained quiet, amazed at our situation. I tried to smile, to compose myself, and to explain that Hung had no idea what he had just said, and had not learned this in my home, but at his new job. The church women murmured and seemed to stiffen even more. The Episcopalians did not become sponsors that year. I never heard from them again.

Mary and Kan had some long, often whispering conversations after Kan had gone on her infamous interview. Then they asked if we could talk, in private. They said it was very serious and personal. I asked if Carol could be there. They said yes. I had noticed they both were still a bit down and lately seemed a bit skittish. Carol and I wanted to take them out to lunch, to a little place Carol loved in the Fan, a special part of the center of Richmond. But when we were in the car, we saw how tense the two women were, we decided perhaps this was not the right day for a bustling café.

“So what is plan B?, Kemosabe?” Carol asked as she drove along the highway.

“umm, hmm, ah..” I was trying to think.

“How about a take-out picnic? “ Carol asked. She always seemed unruffled and took things in stride. She knew where to go, she knew inner Richmond well. In a matter of minutes, we were eating some take-out Szechuan. We sat in the park on a blanket from Carol’s car, looking over a grassy field and a large pond.

“Well, girlfriends, what’s up?” Carol teased. We started just talking about light subjects, waiting for them to bring up their reason for needing our talk.

Mary looked at me and then Carol, “We girlfriends?” “I like be girlfriends.” But they went quiet again and fidgeted.

Carol answered “Sure we are! We are all girlfriends, but I get the feeling you need to talk with Tricia privately, so I am going to run over to my favorite bakery, and will be back here in half an hour, ok?”

“Oh, Carol! “

I was surprised, but she gave me a wink and a nod, and I let her go.

I smiled, and said, “ Oh Mary, Kan, Yes! Oh yes, we are girlfriends, of course! We have become very close, I think. You are like family. You are like my sisters. We are close, don’t you think so?”

They both answered “Yes, yes, we are close friends. We are little bit like sisters.”

“We have problems, I so sorry.” Said Kan. Her eyes were so troubled, she shook her head.

“You are like our teacher. We give you much respect, but we have done something very wrong." “ We very scared, our teacher, but we must tell you. We are ashamed, very ashamed, teacher.”

“Please, no need for shame, tell me the problem, and we will solve it,” I answered.

Mary began quietly to cry. Tears ran down her cheeks. Kan held hers back, though her eyes were red, she said, “Teacher, we cannot solve this. We already did a bad thing. It is too late, I think for us, but we must tell you.“ she seemed to gulp, looking at Mary, and back to me. “ Teacher, we lied. Very big lie to United States of America Government! We lied to Immigration, also! And teacher, we lied to you.” She put her proud head down.

My mind raced, desperately trying to guess what they could have done. Had they really lied to the government? What do I need to do, I wondered. I was concerned, not panicked. I saw them hold hands.

Kan raised her head and held it high, her normal pose. Her family had spoken Mandarin, but she had learned Cantonese and Khmer. She never spoke a word of Mandarin since Pol Pot came to Cambodia, her father knowing long in advance that speaking Mandarin might cause problems, it was known to be of a higher class, than Cantonese. It could indicate education, and both these things could mean death, during the Pol Pot days. But Kan had always been proud of her Mandarin background, she was happy she no longer needed to hide it.

" When Mary and I were small girls, we dream we would sew beautiful clothings. We learn little bit, and make clothings for our dolls. We make pretty sarongs we sew flowers on them. We learn sewing little bit with needle and thread. We sew with hands. I learn make flowers and pretty designs,“ she took a deep breath. “We never get to finish school, we all forced to be farmers for Pol Pot.” She looked at me with anxiety on her face. “ Then in Thailand camp, they ask us questions. We must tell them answers for immigration papers. They ask what is our job. Mary and I talk before our turn. We decide we say the same thing, so maybe we can stay and work together. The gossips in the camp say, nobody want you, with no profession! So we tell immigration we are seamstresses! “ Her voice cracked, and she hung her head again for a minute. She raised her head, and Kan’s eyes welled with tears. “ We very scared, teacher. They turn many people back over border.

We came out jungle, we tired, we starving. People die in jungle, we saw much death, many bodies. We know if we go back, we die. We think nobody want two Pol Pot farmers. We want to be seamstresses, so we say seamstresses.” She took another deep breath. “But I went on the interview. I was too scared. I saw big machines. We never sewed on such a machine. We don’t know machine. Now, we have more interview next week. Our buddies made appointment for us to show our sewing, on company machines. We not seamstresses. They will see we not seamstresses! Maybe we get sent back.” Mary began to sob. She leaned on Kan. “ We so sorry, so sorry” Kan began to apologize. I was thinking about what I would have said to get out of the hell of the Pol Pot terror.

I calmed Kan and Mary. I told them no one was sending them anywhere. I told them I needed to talk with Goodie, and Carol and they agreed since they were now girlfriends.

It took Carol, Goodie, and me several days to come up with a plan. We knew it wasn’t a great plan in many ways, with many flaws, but at least it was a plan. Goodie and I both had sewing machines, both collecting dust in our homes. Carol hit the phones again, she arranged a two-week delay for the interview and started calling women in our meeting that might be able to help. Volunteers could teach the women to use the machines and some sewing skills. This time we had a lot of enthusiastic women, who wanted to help but weren’t sure what they could do. This would be short term, we only had two weeks, intense, and then only as needed, if they got the jobs. Goodie made another of her very helpful charts, showing who was coming, when and for how long, and what they would teach. I explained to the girlfriends, and they were immensely relieved. They would be seamstresses, then they would no longer be liars, they never said that they were good seamstresses. They never said they had much experience.

We dismantled my dining room table and set up the sewing area. Since the Cambodians had arrived we never used the dining table anyway. We all used the long coffee tables in the living room and sat on the floor.

Tess and Annabelle loved this arrangement. Especially the two-year-old Annabelle, she ran around the table choosing little bits of food she selected from each person’s plate. Sitting on different laps, always being indulged and spoiled. We ate almost exclusively Chinese and Cambodian meals. She had assumed this was all quite normal, and when we visited my family, she told my mother, that what she was serving was not dinner! “ Where is the soup? Where is the rice?” And Li’s cooking was a dream. And beautiful, almost too pretty to eat! But oh, we did eat well!

Well, hour after hour, day after day, Kan and Mary followed the instructions of the grandma volunteers. Annie and Li served tea and snacks. And the machines started to whir. I was amazed within two hours they had sewn together and neatly hemmed and edged several sarongs. They went on to cuff curtains and some other basic household sewing jobs. Some of the ladies brought some sewing kits from the local crafts store, and they produced stuffed animals and rag dolls for the little girls, an Elephant for Annabelle, her favorite animal. Soon came the patterns, basic simplicity patterns, representing most of the seventies, and some older. Kan, Mary, and even Annie were fascinated and excited to try to make the fancy dresses that they saw. They seemed disappointed to realize the first thing they would make was a simple skirt. Or simple, or so they thought. It started fine. They moved along at a steady pace, precisely following instructions. Right up until they got to the zipper, they were fine. Connie had led them well through the whole skirt. They had cut the fabric fine, measured, and understood the slight alterations she showed them. They had started at 8 in the morning and had the skirts almost put together, except for the zippers, by lunch. But then Connie had to leave and Barbara came for the zipper, this had been planned. Barbara was really good at putting in zippers. However, she couldn’t seem to get the girls to understand. They did the zippers, and the zippers puckered, buckled, the fabric stretched, the zippers were slanted, and once Kan’s was even backward. Barbara remained smiling, but you could tell she was getting tense and impatient, She kept telling them to tear it out and start again, and again, and again. They worked through the afternoon, Barbara arranged to come back after dinner, she said she and her husband would eat nearby, and she would be right back, she wanted the girls to get that zipper!

They tried and tried, but the secret of setting a zipper properly into a garment seemed to be a puzzle they couldn’t solve, they both continued to work, hours after Barbara finally left at nine. I saw the frustration and the tension. I suggested that they take a break, and start fresh tomorrow, but they kept going. They worked until the wee hours of the morning, and on, but by dawn, they had finally mastered the zippers! Two girlfriends, two strong determined women, went to the job interview at the factory together. They were both hired.

I had seen a classified ad for a job in a specialized furniture factory, asking for an experienced woodworker. I showed Goodie the ad, but said that I guessed this would be out of reach for our Tek? But Goodie got a determined look, and said “Let me call, we have nothing to lose, and everything to gain for Tek, “ she insisted, “ Who knows? At least I can try.” We had all just about given up hope on a decent job for Tek. But when I had been trying to clean up an old trunk I had in the attic, Tek had come over and, as usual, took charge. He looked over my refinishing supplies, and tools, turpentine, waxes, oils, stains, and my steel wool and sandpaper. He started right to work, sending me away. The following evening he called me to come to see it. I was speechless, at what a beautiful job he had done.

“Tek! This is wonderful, You didn’t tell me you knew how to do this!” He replied, “I know about wood.” So when we saw the ad, I thought, let Goodie call, maybe, maybe it will be something. She called, made the appointment, and Goodie and I both drove Tek there. We met the manager/ owner of the factory. He was polite but skeptical. Goodrun offered to wait outside, but he said, “nonsense.” We talked a little, and he showed us politely around. “ Here, we are making replicas of fine antique furniture. It takes patience and care, and talent to produce a really fine piece, hand-crafted, and one-of-a-kind. “ he explained. “ We are looking for someone with skills, traditional skills with woodworking, we have been making fine furniture here in Virginia for generations, Virginian craftsman. I am afraid someone new, well, he may not be familiar with our kind of products, with such a long tradition of quality craftsmanship.” His tone told us he didn’t think it would work.

Goodie and I nodded, assuming that nothing could come out of this. Plus Tek had been nearly silent for the whole “interview.” Then as we walked by some large pieces of wood, and some tools Tek asked, “ I show?” The manager agreed and set Tek up with some wood, an array of chisels and knives, and other various implements.

Tek chose a tool and began to use his hands to feel the wood. He smoothed it, and stroked it again, as though it spoke to his fingers. We all stood in awe, chins dropped, as Tek expertly began to carve the most ornate swirls, roses, and fleur-de-lis, the more he carved the more astonished we all became. The owner was nearly in tears. He explained how this was a dying art, and that he had searched in vain for so long, trying to find someone that still understood the craft. He was speechless for a bit, and then offered Tek a job, on the spot, with far higher wages than Bobby and Hung were making, and benefits! Benefits! Tek didn’t understand what benefits were, but he did understand that he would make more than the other two, and eventually understood vaguely, what health insurance was.

I noticed Tek’s swagger was back in his step as we went inside the house. I saw his face, stoic, at first, as though things had gone wrong. He waited until everyone had come in, and all attention was on him. He let them all sit, but he remained standing, pacing a bit. Finally, he told them, he had a job. He was speaking in English for full effect! “I have job.” Then he walked to look from another angle, crossing his arms. “I have very good job!” he announced, with a grin appearing on his wrinkled face. “How much you think, Hung?” he asked, arms crossed over his chest. “How much you think, Bobby?” they didn’t dare answer. He raised his eyebrows, and told them I make more than you! Ha!” he swaggered a bit more

“ And Benefits!”