Grandpa’s legacy is
shown in memories
of his family

READER REMEMBRANCE

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Glenda Chung Hinchey / Special to the Star-Bulletin

There they were, the eight surviving children of Keum Whan Chang, my maternal grandfather, standing informally on a stage in the Coral Ballroom at the Hilton Hawaiian Village. The occasion was the Chang clan family reunion held in 1994, and friends and relatives had just finished a seven-course Chinese banquet.

Now, each aging offspring was giving an extemporaneous speech about their long-deceased father, who rose from being a penniless Korean immigrant to a plantation luna, then to a wealthy real estate landlord.

Following are some of their stories:

>> Julia, the eldest child and my mother, recalled how Grandpa longed for a male heir to carry on the Chang surname. When the cry of the newborn baby came from the bedroom, he rushed to the door, peeked in, and asked, "Boy? Boy? Boy?" Six births in a row, the answer the midwife gave was, "No...girl." Each time, Grandpa was disappointed. Finally, children Nos. 7, 9 and 10 turned out to be male and, ecstatic, Grandpa believed that God had finally rewarded him for his patience.

These three sons were his pride and joy, and much love and attention were lavished upon them. One son became a dentist, the second an accountant, and the third a teacher.

>> Aunty Margie related how Grandpa loved cowboy movies, and when his twin sons misbehaved, he tied them back to back to a post, just as the cowboys did to the outlaws in the movies.

>> Uncle Harold said that Grandpa often took him and his twin brother, Walter, to the theater, insisting to the teller that his sons were so small, they could easily fit in one seat, and, therefore, he would pay for just one ticket for the two of them. Amazingly, he got his way. Of course, once inside, the twins sat in separate seats.

>> Aunty Helen described how, the morning after the twins returned from college on the mainland, Grandpa rushed to their bedroom and shouted, "We have plumbing problems. You have to fix the plumbing."

"What?" Uncle Harold groggily replied. "We know nothing about plumbing."

"Of course you do," Grandpa yelled. "What did I send you to college for?"

These are just some of the stories I heard that night at the reunion, but it seems that at every family gathering, Grandpa is always the topic of conversation and one gathers that he was quite a character. Although a strict disciplinarian toward his children, he was very gentle toward his grandchildren. Whenever I visited, he would ask for a kiss and then say, "Ohhhh ... so sweet."

Toward the end of his life, senility took its toll. I frequently visited him in the nursing home, softly speaking to this shell of a man who stared at me in vacant silence: "Good-bye, Grandpa. I love you."