Same Sun Here

by Silas House

  It seems as if everyone is really paying attention to the Appalachian Mountains now. I was really happy that your team won the basketball game, too, and that you did the big last basket and that Mark was there to watch the game. I hope he gets his artificial leg soon. Kiku says those are very expensive.

  Today my history teacher gave a lesson on serfdom. He started out by saying that luck is as simple as where and when you’re born and who you’re born to. In the old days, if you were born a serf, you stayed a serf. Every single country in the world has had serfs or slaves: England, Egypt, Russia, Iran, Japan, India, Spain, Ghana, China, France. Mr. Orff said it’s because there are some people in the world who want to control other people, who want to be comfortable and rich and protected, and they don’t care who they hurt to get that way. It seems so unfair that some people work hard but don’t have anything to show for it.

  Someone asked if America has serfs nowadays, and Mr. Orff said the closest thing is illegal immigrants who have to pay money to the people who smuggle them into the country. Mr. Orff said that a lot of American employers take advantage of illegal immigrants because they will work for less money than citizens. I kept thinking about Mum and Daddy and all the people Daddy works with at the catering hall. I usually talk a lot in history, but when the discussion went to illegal immigrants, my hands sweated and I felt like a knife had come through the air and cut me apart from the rest of the class. But no one but me knew it had happened.

  After school I went to the library with Mrs. Lau because Mum and Kiku were both working late. Remember when I told you about Mai, who teaches the citizenship class at the library? She also teaches Mrs. Lau’s free ESL (English as a Second Language) class. She is so nice. Today she gave a writing assignment, and I sat next to Mrs. Lau and helped her with it. Now I will type up the story Mrs. Lau wrote, so you can read it, too:

  One day I sat on subway next to a lady wearing pants sewn in my factory. I recognize the pants from the seams. I ask the lady if her pants were comfortable, and she said, “Yes.” I ask the lady where she bought the pants and she said, “At Macy’s, for thirty-five dollars.” I never knew how much our pants cost. Thirty-four dollars is how much money I made in two days of work. I sat on the subway and thought about all the people I worked with at the factory and all the pants we made and how many people there were in the world wearing them.

  Isn’t that a good story? Now whenever I look at someone’s clothes, I wonder who made them. I always like shirts that say MADE IN INDIA on the tag, like the manhole covers in New York. It is amazing to me that those big round pieces of metal on NY streets came all the way from India, just like our family.

  I asked Mai if working in a factory was like serfdom, but she said she didn’t know. Then I asked Mai about that line Mummy-Daddy will have to say to become citizens. I have memorized the line because the words are so grand, almost like a prayer: I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen. I can say it all in one breath. I did it like that for Mai and she laughed. She said it was not anything to worry about. She said we could still go back to India whenever we wanted. She said there are so many Americans — legal, illegal, citizens, not citizens — who love America and, also, the country they or their ancestors come from. I asked her if she felt that way about China and she said, “That’s what it means to be an American. To be free to love who and what you want, and to keep a lot in your heart at once.”

  When Mrs. Lau and I got home, the landlord was waiting in front of her door. It’s a good thing I didn’t go to our apartment first, and it’s a good thing I had my schoolbag with me. Mrs. Lau said, “This girl is walking my dog. I’m too old to go up and down the stairs,” and she leashed Cuba and he and I left.

  We walked around and around Chinatown. It felt like hours. Poor Cuba was panting and walking slower and slower, so we went to the library. I wrapped his leash around my leg and sat on a bench and did my homework, and he lay down and watched the pigeons and barked at a boy on a skateboard.

  I had some pretzels in my bag, so I ate those for dinner and fed some to Cuba. He took the food so gently from my hand. I could feel his whiskers and soft tongue and little front teeth on my fingers. After a long time, we went back to Mrs. Lau’s apartment. The landlord was gone. Mrs. Lau said he had been very rude to her and that he had demanded to know where her son was. He also refused to look at the leak in her ceiling where the dead mouse had fallen through, and when she showed him her cracked windows where the wind and rain comes in, he said, “They look fine to me.”

  Then Mrs. Lau said we should clean. She said, “Spring-cleaning make everybody happy.” We took a bucket and filled it with water and soap, and then we swiped Mrs. Lau’s windows with newspaper. I didn’t believe her when she said newspapers are better than rags for cleaning windows, but she was right. We got the windows to sparkle.

  Then we flipped over Mrs. Lau’s mattress, and I stood out on her fire escape and shook out her two rugs. It felt like we were making a new world, just the way we wanted it to be. The best part was when we let all the parakeets out of their cages. They flew around the apartment. All seven of them, flapping and squawking and dancing from foot to foot on the furniture. Sometimes Mrs. Lau clapped and they rose up all at once with a great whirring of wings. One parakeet even pooped on the sofa while he was flying! Cuba ran around the apartment wagging his tail at all the birds, and Mrs. Lau sat on the couch and laughed and laughed. Sometimes Cuba bowed down and stretched out his front paws like he wanted to play, and then Xie-Xie flew to his back and he would start to circle, trying to catch her. His toenails sounded like fast little drumbeats on the wood floor.

  While the parakeets were flying around, we cleaned their cages. We got rid of all their poop and changed their water and put down new clean newspaper. It was kind of sad catching them and putting them back in their cages, although they didn’t seem to mind.

  Well, the library is closing in ten minutes and my time on this computer is up. So good-bye for now, River Dean Justice. Please give Rufus a pat for me.

  Cheerio, from your best friend,

  Meena

  30 April 2009

  Dear Meena,

  I AM COMING TO NEW YORK CITY!!!!!!!

  Because of what I did at the capitol and me getting on the cover of the magazine and all that, Mamaw’s group has chosen me to represent them for this big environmental thing at the United Nations. So I get a three-day stay in New York City, all paid for, AND they are going to put me on the Today show, which I have been watching every school morning of my life for ages. I hope it is Meredith Vieira who interviews me, as she seems like the nicest one of the whole bunch and I used to watch her on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire when I was real, real little. I feel kind of bad, to tell you the truth, because I didn’t do anything to deserve a paid trip to New York City or being on the cover of a magazine or anything else. There are so many people who are fighting hard and standing up for what they believe in that they should get the attention instead of me. Like Mamaw. She has worked like a dog to get people to pay attention to all of this, and she’s not on the cover of Time. But she says she is proud of me. That’s better than any money or anything else, I reckon. And she is coming with me, too, so you will get to meet her. I told her about your mamaw passing away, and her eyes got wet and she said she couldn’t wait to “hug your neck.” That doesn’t mean she’s going to hug your neck, really. That’s just what people in the South say when they mean they want to give you a big hug.

  My dad and I went fishing today, over on Free Creek, where we used to live. They haven’t started any mines over there yet, so the creek is still clean and clear and full of bluegill and shad this time of year. We hadn’t been fishing together in a real long time, and it was about as pretty a day as anyone could ask for, with the sunlight so bright in the new leaves that they seeme
d to be glowing.

  I like the way that when we are fishing we can go a long time without saying anything, then all at once have a big, deep conversation. We had been there about an hour and I had already caught three bluegill when Dad all at once sat down beside me on the big flat rock shaped like a turtle, where I always loved to sit when I was little.

  “River,” he said, “you remember how I used to talk bad about people because of what color they were, or if they were different somehow?”

  “Yeah,” I said, not taking my eye off my fishing line.

  “Well, I was wrong about that, little man,” Dad said. “About all of that. Working down there with all different kinds of people made me realize that we’re all more alike than we think we are. I want you to know that.”

  I told him I did know that. I didn’t tell him that I knew that because of you, because you are my best friend and that our friendship is better because we are different but also because we are so much alike, too.

  He was quiet for a time, and I felt like he was studying me. Finally he put his arm across my back and pulled me toward him, and his voice was sort of low and trembly. “I just wouldn’t want you to think that any of that talk I did before, calling people names and all, was right,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to clear that up with you.”

  I nodded again. It didn’t seem like there was any need for me to say anything. Then we just went back to listening to the creek flowing over the rocks, which is just about the best sound in the world if you ask me.

  I have bad news, too (what would my letters be without that? LOL): Mark and his family are moving to Louisville. His mother is too afraid of rockfalls now, and they have that big MTR site up close to their house. It got to where none of them could sleep at night for worrying. Maybe I’ll get to see him every once in a while. It’ll be an excuse for me to go to Louisville sometime.

  Here are the things in your last letter that I wanted to respond to (you know I am always looking for a reason to make a list):

  I googled “daffodils” and they look just like the flowers we call Easter flowers. I also googled “crocus” but I’ve never seen any of those, although the Internet says they grow here, too.

  I looked inside my shirt just now and it says, MADE IN VIETNAM.

  I loved picturing all those birds flying around in the apartment. You should draw a picture of that (IN COLOR) and send it to me.

  You must have been scared to death when the landlord came. Were you?

  I can’t believe we are all going to be in New York together.

  Yours very truly,

  River Dean Justice

  May 14, 2009

  Dear River,

  You’re coming to New York!?!?! Is it really real? It feels like a dream. I can’t wait to hug your mamaw’s neck. Mrs. Lau is very excited about watching you on the Today show. She says, if you get a chance, to please tell Mr. Lauer that she says hello and that she likes his old hairstyle better than his new one.

  We have been friends for almost a year and we have gone through so much together. And now you’re coming here! It’s crazy, isn’t it?

  I have some good news, too . . . Mummy-Daddy passed the citizenship interview and exam. We are all really happy. There is just one more step to go — the swearing-in ceremony.

  It was really nice to read about your fishing trip with your daddy. I am happy that he said all those things to you and that you got to spend time with him and have fun together.

  It’s so hot today that I could smell the fruit ripening when I walked by the deli on Essex Street. Hot cherries, hot grapes, sold on the sidewalk. It smelled like fresh-baked pie.

  Last week, there was no electricity in our apartment or Mrs. Lau’s. The landlord turned it off and wouldn’t return Mrs. Lau’s calls. The electricity went out in India all the time, but it didn’t happen on purpose, to punish people. Mum got very upset because she couldn’t use her hair dryer, and Kiku was mad he couldn’t charge his cell phone. But it wasn’t really a big deal for us to not have electricity. It was very hard for Mrs. Lau, though. She gets lonely without the TV, and she has trouble seeing at night and Mum was afraid she would knock over the candles and start a fire. So I stayed with her and helped. Two nights Kiku and Mum came over, too, and slept on her floor in a big pile of blankets. It was kind of fun.

  The electricity came back on yesterday, but a few hours later the water was shut off. I can’t believe someone would treat an old woman this way. Mrs. Lau is such a good person. She says she is going to contact a lawyer. Mai told her that a new law was passed in February that allows NYC tenants to sue a landlord or managing company for harassment. Mai said the law was passed because of what is happening to so many people in Chinatown and the Lower East Side.

  Daddy left for New Jersey and work this morning after he and Mum had the interview and exam. I am missing him already. So is Mum, but since she cut her hair and started studying to be a nurse, she is stronger. She still cries a little when Daddy leaves, but she doesn’t cry like she’ll never stop.

  My favorite time with Daddy happened really early today when Mum and Kiku were still asleep. It was about 4:00 a.m. and I woke up and heard Daddy. He was drinking tea at the table and studying for the citizenship exam with a flashlight. I sat down and started quizzing him. He got everything right. I said I was a little hungry, and he put two pieces of bread in the toaster and we watched the red coils shade the white bread brown. Then Daddy took a sharp knife from the drawer and cut one piece of toast into a shape. “Texas,” he said to me, and I laughed. Texas is my favorite state because it is shaped like India. So then Daddy cut two pieces of toast into Texas. He cut each Texas into four curved pieces and then moved all eight pieces around on the plate, mixing them up. He made a toast puzzle! We fit the pieces together, matching curve to curve, until the pieces became two Texas(es). Then we slathered the Texas(es) in butter and ate, sliding each piece away till there was nothing left but the white of the plate.

  Isn’t that cool? Daddy said one of the dishwashers at the catering hall taught him to do that with toast. It’s something his grandmother did for him in Peru, and he does it now with his daughters. Maybe we can keep telling people and get the whole country to make toast puzzles.

  I noticed something about Daddy this morning. He has little smudges of brown in the white parts of his eye, like the color from his eyes has leaked out. It’s really pretty and interesting. Something about writing to you makes me notice things better. It’s like I want to remember everything really well so I can tell you about it later.

  I am so happy you will be in New York City soon. I can’t wait to meet you. Some days it feels to me like you are made of words. But soon I’ll be shaking your hand in person.

  I can tell you three things that will help you not get lost in the city. I will make a list for you since you like lists so much:

  20 New York City street blocks equal one mile. 4 New York City avenue blocks equal one mile.

  All the even-numbered streets in the city run east, and the odd run west.

  All the odd-numbered avenues run south, and the even run north.

  If you remember all that, you can’t get lost. And you can always ask someone on the street for help. Don’t forget that New Yorkers are very nice people.

  Here Comes the Sun,

  Meena

  P.S. Here are some sample US citizenship exam questions. I figure you’ve never seen these before, since you were born American:

  Name one war fought by the United States in the 1900s.

  What did Susan B. Anthony do?

  What is one thing Benjamin Franklin is famous for?

  There were thirteen original states. Name three.

  What is one responsibility that is only for United States citizens?

  What does the judicial branch do?

  Name your US representative.

  Who makes federal laws?

  What does the Constitution do?

  What is the supreme law of the land?
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  Name three rights of freedom guaranteed by the Bill of Rights.

  Who has the power to declare war?

  Which president freed the slaves?

  In what year was the Constitution written?

  What are the first ten amendments to the Constitution called?

  Name one purpose of the United Nations.

  Where does Congress meet?

  Whose rights are guaranteed by the Constitution and the Bill of Rights?

  What is the introduction to the Constitution called?

  Name one benefit of being a citizen of the United States.

  What is the most important right granted to US citizens?

  What do we call a change to the Constitution?

  How many changes or amendments are there to the Constitution?

  Who makes the laws in the United States?

  What are the duties of Congress?

  Who elects the Congress?

  How many senators are there in Congress?

  Name the two senators from your state.

  What is the capital of your state?

  Who is the current governor of your state?

  Who becomes president of the United States if the president and the vice president should die in office?

  What are the 49th and 50th states of the US?

  How many terms can the president serve?