
Dr. Song, whose Chinese name is Song Yaowu, is known to me as Howard.
When I taught English as a second language, he was the department head of international affairs at the Harbin Institute of Technology. I guess you could say that he was my boss, but he immediately was my friend.
I’m sure everyone has the kind of experience where you meet somebody and it just clicks. That is the way it was with Howard and me.
We are both dreamers.
Not having a car in China, I used to walk almost everywhere. On the last Saturday, my feet were killing me, and I still had a lot of walking to do on my last day, Sunday.
Word must have gotten back to Howard that I was sore. The next morning I received an invitation to go to a private club with him on Sunday evening for a foot massage.
We took a taxi down some residential streets and descended into a beautiful room. From there we were taken to a private room where two masseuses washed our feet and started bring life back to my aching feet and legs.
The two women were soon forgotten. Howard and I were together letting our minds race. I told him of what I would like to do if I ever came back to Harbin. He shared with me some of his ideas. Our thoughts bounced around the room like the ball in a pinball machine, complete with the flashing lights.
A couple of years ago, Howard got a fellowship at Michigan State University. He didn’t have a visa for Canada, so I went to Port Huron, Michigan to spend the day with him and his daughter.
It was as if nothing had changed. We still fed on each other’s dreams. Howard talked of my going back to Harbin. The day wasn’t long enough for either of us.
Howard and I don’t have much contact with each other. It is sort of like planets that approach each other only once in a decade or something. When it happens, it is something special. While I would love to see him more often, it is a friendship that I treasure. While I have sent him emails, they have been unanswered. I have learned to wait until I look at my inbox and there is a message from him.
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