Arrival
Pictured above, my mother and her family upon arriving in the United States
Their first home at 296 Shawmut Ave, on right
First Impressions
My mother's eight person family shared a cheap basement apartment on 296 Shawmut Ave in the South End. The apartment was again, crowded, but much less so than Kowloon's.
During the 1970s and '80s, the South End was, in a word, sketchy; drug deals occurred across the street, there were many instances of assault in the neighborhood, and my mother recalls her parents not allowing her and her sisters to go outside at night. For this reason, the family spent most of their time in the apartment, or in Chinatown meeting other Chinese immigrants.
Making Ends Meet
"We leaned on our relatives to help us out financially, but a lot of it my parents did on their own and we returned any money they lent us" - Anna Yu
My mother's parents were, and still are very proud and selfless people. Despite having to take on multiple jobs and raising six children, they were reluctant to receive help, and always gave back any money given to them. They were lucky to befriend other Chinese immigrants who were generous enough to give them old clothes and blankets to keep warm during the unfamiliar and brutal New England winters.
One of my mother's sisters, Linda Yu earnestly reflects on the families that offered their help:
"The kindness and charity of others is something my family will never forget."
They were careful to live within their means; they shopped at Goodwill, never splurged on anything, and the children picked up jobs to help their parents.
Their parents' pride and humility taught her and her sisters to work hard rather than accept any hand-outs, a practice they all still continue and have pushed onto their children.
My mother (left), her father, Linda (in pink), and Mary (right)
One of my mother's sisters, her mother, and her industrial sewing machine
Work
My mother's mother worked from home as a seamstress so she could also take care of her children. She earned a dime to a quarter for each piece she completed. When my mother was 12, she was hired by the same boss to cut excess threads off of garments for a few cents a piece, a wage she thought was very generous.
My mother's father was a dishwasher at a nearby restaurant. Like his wife, he worked long days and received little pay. He brought home any extra unwanted food, like pork bones, to feed his large family.