I’ve been running around Dallas for two days trying to buy a car, set up a bank account, cope with the fact that there are six or seven Pentecostal preacher channels on our cable system, but no Fox News, and basically get my new life in order. So I haven’t been following events as closely as I otherwise would have. Tonight, I drove around the neighborhood looking for take-out food, until a sign at a Chinese restaurant in a strip mall caused me to pull over: NEW BIG WONG was the name of the joint. I mean, wouldn’t you have stopped? Turns out the proprietress was interested in the New York-centric sweatshirt my wife had on. She’d just gotten back from NYC, where she’d been visiting her son, who studies at the Parsons School of Design. She’s got another child studying at Cornell, and a third at UCLA. And here she is, a tiny little immigrant woman who speaks halting English, working her butt off cooking food for people in Dallas, and just bursting with pride over what her children have accomplished here, the fruit of honest labor.
What a great lady. What a great country. Viva New Big Wong, say I.