Ahgon and Ahma Move On

Today is a big day for my parents. After over 35 years of hard work, my father officially hangs up his white coat and stethoscope and walks out of his medical practice for the last time. My mother walks out the door with him, having served as his office manager/bookkeeper/receptionist/point person for just as long. Any post about our adoption would be remiss if I didn't tell you a bit about their story.

My father is one of 7 children born to a farmer and his wife from Kaoshiung, Taiwan. When my sisters and I were growing up and getting lax in our attitudes towards school, he would often tell us stories of having to hide out in a shed just so that he could do his homework instead of working the fields. His diligence certainly paid off. He was able to earn scholarships that would carry him all the way through medical school.

While in training, he met my mother, a nursing student from Pingdong. She declined proposals from other dashing young men with promise and chose to wed the farmer's son whose picture was often featured in the local newspaper for his scholarly achievements. The two were married and within months were expectant with their first child, my sister, Even.

They immigrated to America from Taiwan in the early 1970s. My father was one of many foreign-trained physicians who had been granted citizenship in the States during an era in which American medical practitioners were scarce. With limited English skills and no family or friends on whom they could depend, they rented a roach-infested apartment in a 5-floor walkup building in New York City. They lived on a meager budget that occasionally allowed them a piece of fruit for dessert. Within three years, they had three young daughters and a green light to practice medicine in the United States.

They later moved to Virginia, where my youngest sister, Jenny was born. Eventually, they set up an obstetrics/gynecology practice in Petersburg, a historic town with an economically disadvantaged population. Over the course of the next three decades, the practice developed and my father's repuation as a physician who was knowledgeable, skilled, and honest grew. He eventually delivered enough babies to populate a small town of 7,000+ people.

To this day, my father's commitment to the Petersburg community is reflected in the annual scholarships he set up for students in the local high school, as well in the local nursing school. His largesse also extends to the area Taiwanese community, for which he has established a college scholarship for the student with the highest academic average.

When they finally hand over the keys of their office this afternoon, my parents will be leaving behind an inspiring example. Through their hard work, commitment to family and community, and many sacrifices, they've proven that success against the odds is possible. I know my sisters and I have certainly learned much from them. And, thankfully, both Andrew and William will get to grow up in their company and perhaps learn a thing or two from them, too.

So, for their 35 years of labor, gong xi, Ahma and Ahgon!