My dad did his best to build a life for his children. He died at 90, a devoted Lakers fan and a proud Chinese
Li Lu was raised in China and got his college education in the U.S., where he raised his family.
My dad died Friday, March 5, 2021. As we are a small family with no extended relatives in the U.S., we decided on no obit, no services. So may this suffice instead as a memorial.
My father, Li Lu (aka Ray), was born August 8, 1930. Or, at least, that’s the date in the records.
He explained to us that his birthday was August 8 because in Mandarin, that date is pronounced ba-ba, which is a variation on the pronunciation for father. So it was the perfect birthday for our dad.
He later told us that the date was auspiciously chosen, after his birth records were lost during his family’s escape from China during the Communist Revolution. Eight is a lucky number in Chinese culture.
So his birthday was actually a relic of a painful and formative time in my dad’s life, one we do not know much about.
Li was born in Henan, China, the oldest of 6 surviving children (two died before they were 2). He said his family was prosperous.
Then Japan invaded China, followed by the Communist Revolution. My dad said he was a teen when he served as a soldier. Ultimately, his family fled to Taiwan, leaving behind much of what they had.
Recounting these memories over the years would either incense him or choke him with sadness. We did not ask for details.
This led to a later start in life. He was educated as a mechanical engineer at the University of Illinois-Urbana Champaign. He married his wife, whom he met through friends, when he was 47. Photos show they took trips together and were very fashionable.
My earliest memories are of living in Taiwan with my mom, sister and brother. We stayed with my dad’s parents for about 4 years until he could establish a life for us in the States.
We then moved to Long Island, New York, then later to Reading, Massachusetts, where all three of us graduated from high school.
Times were not easy. Dad had failed business ventures; mom worked as she could. We knew our parents tried their best to provide for us and we knew we had to make their work worth it.
Dad treasured knowledge. He loved giving books as gifts, even if it was a decades-old engineering textbook with outdated formulas.
He also loved Chinese opera, classic movies (I practically grew up with Cary Grant) and collecting stamps and commemorative coins. In unpacking his things, we also discovered an impressive collection of airplane bottles of liquor, all unopened, some dating to the 1960s. We never knew him to drink much so this was a surprise.
He had an unyielding love of the L.A. Lakers. In 2019, I posted on Twitter about how my dad wanted Shaquille O’Neal to sign an old newspaper comic featuring Shaq. My appeal was a full-court lob. And it worked! Not only did Shaq see the tweet, he also sent a personal video. And my dad got that comic signed. Read more here.
Dad was proud to be Chinese and loved sharing the wisdoms of Chinese philosophers. For many years, he’d send an email to us on each of our birthdays with lessons of the moment.
He even sent one to his grandson when he turned 7, a long email with “important things” to pay attention to during his education journey. It included this snippet: “You have to know how to spend and use your TIME to do things. This subject is very scary. You never can get a minute back if you wasted it.”
We didn’t know our dad deeply, but we knew he was proud of us and wanted us to be happy and fulfilled.
In January 2016 he wrote us an email that ended with: “My new year resolution: I want to finish writing ‘Chinese Contributions To The World Civilization.’”
I imagine him having the time now to finish that piece, while listening to Chinese opera and watching a replay of an old Lakers game.
Love you, Daddy.
Kathy
Kathy Lu is a journalist who has been an editor for The Kansas City Star and The Roanoke (Va.) Times. She was most recently the digital and social media editor for America Amplified, a Corporation for Public Broadcasting initiative.
