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In May 1903, he wrote that he had been ill since the 7th of April, three weeks before the examinations. He said that he had 'walking typhoid fever' but felt he had been cured since he no longer suffered from fever or numbness of his legs, although he was still thin and weak. His doctor had assured him he would be perfectly well by the end of the month. Subsequently, in July, he went to San Jose for a short vacation with plans to transfer to Stanford University the coming year in order to benefit from the more hospitable climate of Palo Alto. Due to increased responsibilities with the arrival of his concubine in San Francisco a few weeks before, First Uncle could not help Ping Lim much except to pay the doctor's bill of 50 dollars, and to advise him to return to Hawaii in view of the fact that First Uncle could not continue supporting him. Grandfather sent him 20 dollars, but he still had to borrow 200 dollars from a friend. He also asked Father to send him 30 dollars to buy himself a new suit. He must have left California for Honolulu soon after that, because a letter from a friend, Otis S. Lee, dated 18 August 1903, expresses surprise to learn of his departure and said that all his friends missed him.
Although it was hoped that convalescence in Manoa would restore his health, Ping Lim died on 2 October 1903. It was a great blow to the family, especially to Grandfather. There was a eulogy to him in the San Francisco Chinese newspaper, for he had cultivated the friendship of a group of students from China and of other intellectuals exposed to Western thinking who would later participate in the political changes in China.
It was an annual ritual in early spring for Father to take Ruth and me with him to the Lin Yee Cemetery in East Manoa (established 7 June 1889) to pay respects to Uncle Ping Lim and his mother. We would take the Manoa street car to the end of the line, walk some distance along a country road to reach the cemetery and place a bunch of asters, Father's favourite offering, on each grave, located only after a long search among unkempt plots. Fourteen years after Uncle's death, Father hired a man to exhume the remains of Uncle and his mother in order to return them to their native land for permanent burial. I remember watching with fascination, after the earth was removed, the man lifting the lid from the wooden coffin and seeing a fully-clothed shape of a body that quickly deflated as air got to it. Taking mouthfuls
118
In May 1903, he wrote that he had been ill since the 7th of April, three weeks before the examinations. He said that he had 'walking typhoid fever but felt he had been cured since he no longer suffered from fever or numbness of his legs, although he was still thin and weak. His doctor had assured him he would be perfectly well by the end of the month. Subsequently, in July, he went to San Jose for a short vacation with plans. to transfer to Stanford University the coming year in order to benefit from the more hospitable climate of Palo Alto. Due to increased responsibilities with the arrival of his concubine in San Francisco a few weeks before, First Uncle could not help Ping Lim much except to pay the doctor's bill of 50 dollars, and to advise him to return to Hawaii in view of the fact that First Uncle could not continue supporting him. Grandfather sent him 20 dollars, but he still had to borrow 200 dollars from a friend. He also asked Father to send him 30 dollars to buy himself a new suit. He must have left California for Honolulu soon after that, because a letter from a friend, Otis S. Lee, dated 18 August 1903, expresses surprise to learn of his departure and said that all his friends missed him.
Although it was hoped that convalescence in Manoa would restore his health, Ping Lim died on 2 October 1903. It was a great blow to the family, especially to Grandfather. There was a eulogy to him in the San Francisco Chinese newspaper, for he had cultivated the friendship of a group
of students from China and of other intellectuals exposed to Western thinking who would later participate in the political changes in China.
It was an annual ritual in early spring for Father to take Ruth and me with him to the Lin Yee Cemetery in East Manoa (established 7 June 1889) to pay respects to Uncle Ping Lim and his mother. We would take the Manoa street car to the end of the line, walk some distance along a country road to reach the cemetery and place a bunch of asters, Father's favourite offering, on each grave, located only after a long search among unkempt plots. Fourteen years after Uncle's death, Father hired a man to exhume the remains of Uncle and his mother in order to return them to their native land for permanent burial. I remember watching with fascination, after the earth was removed, the man lifting the lid from the wooden coffin and seeing a fully-clothed shape of a body that quickly deflated as air got to it. Taking mouthfuls
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