April 9, 1955 - San Francisco

The New World

Jimmy really hadn’t wanted to leave Hong Kong. We told him about Gold Mountain and how all the streets were paved with gold. “Does that mean I can take a chunk?” he asked, even though I think he still suspected we were trying to fool him. He’s pretty smart for a six-year-old. We eventually convinced him to go by buying him a big red fire engine with the ladder and the siren that he wanted. (We ended up giving it away before we left.)
His first glimpse of the new world was as we were pulling into San Francisco Bay at sunset. “We’re here.” “Is this Gold Mountain?” We went up on deck to take a look just as the boat passed under it. Jimmy pointed. “That’s the Golden Gate Bridge, son.” And with the setting sun behind it, glinting off the water, darned if it wasn’t the most golden bridge we’d ever laid eyes on. Jimmy was ecstatic—he thought we’d been telling him the truth and wanted to be the first one off the boat. “Gimme a hammer!” he said.
Wayne’s uncle and his family came to greet us at the terminal with gifts and food, but our visa didn’t allow us to stay. We had to go directly to the train station, where I am writing this now. In a few minutes, we’ll board a night train to Canada.