My Friend, Jimmy

He was one of my best friends at UCLA.  He was a graduate student on scholarship, fresh off that boat from China, in the aftermath of the Tiananman Square massacre.  He could not speak, English.

I think the Dance Department suggested he attend an additional undergraduate choreography class, just to help with more exposure to the language.  So our paths crossed, and the friendship was one that grew with strength and ease.

In China, he was a very successful ballet star, choreographer and teacher.  He had served on the faculties of the prestigious Beijing Dance Academy and the Hong Kong Academy of Performing Arts. In America, he was anonymous, almost invisible, especially when without speech.  Someone asked him what his name was.  He said, Jian-Min, Jian-Min.  And that someone said, Oh, Jimmy? Jimmy?  Oh nice to meet you, Jimmy!

And so he was Jimmy.  On certain days and evenings, Jimmy who once was Jian-Min, distinguished artist and faculty member at two of the best dance academies in Asia, could be found, in a maroon uniform, serving and cleaning up, at a dining hall, on campus.

What I loved about my friend then, and what I still love about him, is his warmth, his kindness, his gentle humor, his dignity and his humility.  His tenacity and courage?  The stuff of legends.  Growing up during the Cultural Revolution, dance for him, was the only way out.  And when he seized the American opportunity, he also had to leave his wife and a young daughter in a closed, communist China.

My spoken Chinese is that of a toddler, grappling with speech.  His English was non- existent then.  But ever present was the shared language of dance, where the body speaks freely without the need for words that hinder and astound.  So from the moment we became friends, we in a sense, could not stop, talking.

Mo & Jimmy, London 2014

This afternoon, he hugs me tightly and tells me, Tammy, ni mei you bian! (Tammy, you've not changed!)
I say, Wo bian, wo bian!  Kan!  Wo de yen jing kai shi diao!  (I've changed, I've changed! Look!  My eyes are falling down!)
Mo his wife, is all smiles and hugs as well.  She says, Tammy, hao xiang shou le!  (Tammy, looks like you've lost weight!)
I say, You dian shou!  (A little bit!)
(But then I remember, the last time I saw Jimmy and Mo in Los Angeles, I was, 4 months pregnant...  Dang ran shou le, ba!  (Of course I am thinner now!))

I say to Jimmy, You are such a wonderful person.  I will never forget, ni neng chi ku  (You are able to tolerate hardships), and at all times, never complaining, but always doing things with so much dignity and humility.

Jimmy is surprised.  Ni hai zhi de, ma?  (You still remember?)
Wo zhi de, wo zhi de.
I remember, I remember.

We don't stop talking, and too soon it is 3pm.  I walk with them to the V & A.  I love that Jimmy and Mo walk holding hands, firmly.  Mo reminds me to come to California, and to stay with them, yi ding yao lai!   (you must come!)  She doesn't want me to be alone in winter.

Then it is time to say goodbye.  But in Chinese, we say, zhai jian- which means, "see you later".  We don't say, goodbye.