Earl, Taitung 2002

I don't remember the first time I met Earl. But, there was an overwhelming feeling that he should not be here. He just didn't have the adaptability for a culture as different from his native Pennsylvania, USA.

He was selling a telecommunications package to the local government. He married a Taiwanese woman he met back in PA. She was a psychiatrist. His 3 sons, from a previous marriage, were here with them, enrolled in the local school.

Earl was not happy. He made no effort to hide it. He tried to mask it with an acidic sense of humor. Whenever I saw him he only had bad things to say about the local people, about the culture. His only refuge was the only bar in town.

Once I made a breakfast date with Earl at the golden arches. I arrived early, sat with a book and waited. After a couple of pages I saw him crossing the street with the traffic light in his favor. He had to break stride for a farmer on a motorcycle. Earl yelled, “Watch where the f -- you're going ya' imbecile. What are ya' color blind?”

He sat down with an air of superiority about him that went beyond arrogant. He spoke loudly so that his conversation cut through the room. I made a feeble attempt to explain that he was not in Pennsylvania anymore and that he had to adapt to the local customs.

“But he ran the red light,” he cried.
“Well, not exactly. The old guy crept through the red light with his granny on the back of his 50 cc scooter at 15 kph. That is local custom. You gotta know which lights are optional and which are mandatory. That's the beauty of living in a small town. Not everything is so black and white.”

It was not unusual to see Earl staggering drunk and grumbling. I tried to reach his wife to discuss it with her. She seemed to indicate that she gave up. “He's on medication.”

I got a call from her one day. Earl was in the hospital. My first thought was,”Psychiatric ward?”
“Intensive care. He was attacked by some boys. They cut him up very badly.”
In the IC, he was eating all his meals through a straw. He whispered the story to me through his wired shut mouth.
He came out of the Amigo pub, very drunk. Some kids on motorcycles said something to him in Chinese. He flipped them a bird. They chopped him up with cane knives and split his head like a coconut, broken ribs, leg and both arms. He had bandages on every appendage, broken ribs, 200 stitches and his right hand hung from a thread.

Earl was good for parting shots. Through a wry smile, ”I gave them the finger, but they wanted my hand.”
At least he still had his sense of humor.

Disasters, September 23, 1999

The news was as devastating as the earthquake itself whose epicenter was directly below Hu To San, at the geographic center point of Taiwan Island. He began to rummage through the closets for unused clothes, blankets, tents, shovel, pickaxe, jack hammer, bicycle, canned foods. He loaded up the minivan and put some cash in his pockets.
“Where do you think you are going?” his wife asked?
“I am going to join the rescue and relief effort in Puli.”
“ But, you don't know anyone there. “
“ Not a problem. I can connect through Jya Fu Jong Xin or through the World Vision or the churches or through other pilots who live there.
“Who is gonna teach your classes?”
“ You can call Michael and David or Paul. There are plenty of others who can teach.”
A long hiatus ensued.
“If you go anywhere, there is no need to come back. I will divorce you.”
He continued to pack the car. I'll be gone for 4 days, maybe 5. If you pay someone to cover my classes, how much will it cost?
“Too much. 50,000 NT.” another long silence. “ How about I make a 50,000 Nt donation to rescue effort instead?”
He could see how much a pound of flesh this was for her. He really looked forward to getting away from the twin roles of “Crouching Husband, Bitching Housewife” but reluctantly agreed. “OK.”
The boys stood on the side, too young to understand what was going on.
“I'll empty the van at one of the donations centers in town,” he offered.
“En,” she replied.