My speech is titled: “This is My Life”. And I want to share with you a highlight or two from some years of my life, and it should give you a better idea of how and why I am the person I am today.
So, starting from…
Three years old, 1990 - My mum told me the story of when I was in 1st year kindergarten. On this first day, I was holding on to my mum, after she signed me up for class. She told me that it would be okay, the teacher would look after me. It was my first day of school and I was very afraid. I was afraid of people. She pushed me into the class and sat with me for a while. Then she said that she quietly snuck away out of sight to see how I would cope. I was doing quite well, but a while later, I ran out of the room looking for my mum, and I was crying. My mum hid behind a bush and watched me cry. Her heart was for her boy to learn independence. She did not come out, but cried silently as she watched my heartbreak sobbing. She came out eventually, and I was very broken. She said: "Hao la hao la, ma ma zai zhe li. Ni wei shen me ku?" (Ok ok, mummy is here. Why do you cry?) Still choking on my tears, I said: "Yin wei lao shi tai chou(3) le..." (because the teacher is too ugly). "Oh is that the case," said my mum. "Na lai, wo men huan ban." (then come, we switch class) She took a peek inside, said a few words and took me to a new class. And I never saw that female teacher again.
Four years old, 1991 - One day, my dad's sister came over to our house in Taiwan with her husband to sit on our wooden couches. I didn't know what adults do when they were together - I just knew that adults like to "eh eh eh lai wo jia zuo yi zuo" (come to my house to sit). Back then, there was no such thing as "guests are here so I go back to my room" because there was nothing to do in my room - we simply hung around our parents all the time. And when our parents sat on wooden couches to talk to the guests for more than 15 minutes, we were bored. I observed that the uncle had his glasses on the glass table. So, I took it, put it in the case and hid it under the wooden couches. The adults were so engrossed in the talking that they had hardly noticed our movements, but when it was time to leave, the uncle couldn't find his glasses. They looked and looked and finally traced the culprit back to me, because I probably looked like I was finding it funny. My dad forced me to give it back, and asked me why I stole. I took the case from under the wooden couch and gave it to the uncle. That day the uncle told me off firmly but gently, and it had such an impact, that I never thought about stealing again.
Five years old, 1992 – One of my early memories of my life was spending time at my grandma’s house, in the countryside of Taiwan. Houses in that area used to have an open drainage/sewer at the front of the house, a bit like a moat for a castle. And the drainage at some points along the street was closed, and at some points was opened. What amused me, was that once in a while, a fat goose would appear from the left opening of the drainage and float past grandma’s house and enter into the right opening of the drainage. My brother and I were so fascinated, and always had ideas of using sticks and other items to block the goose from floating away, so that we could prevent it from disappearing into the hole. I believe this is how I came to love animals, especially those big and huggable ones.
Six years old, 1993 – In my early years, my mum did a lot for me, in the form of sending me to all types of classes. I remember going to swimming classes, karate classes, music classes, and there was a particular class, which cost X times more than all the others – it was the English class and was taught by an American woman, therefore it is expensive and must be good, thought my mum. But how wrong she was… For the first few lessons, I often looked around the class, and I saw, Susie, Joe, Nathan all sitting around me. And I realized that I did not have an English name. So I told my mum, and the next time she came to pick me up after English class, my mum said to the teacher: “Can you give my son a name?” The teacher said: “Yes good point. I’ll think about that and tell you next time.” Next time came, and she said to my mum: “I think I like the name… Keegan.” My mum said: “Keegan?” The teacher said: “Yes”. When my mum said: “Is that a good or popular name?” the teacher said: “Yes in fact I know a lot of Keegans back in the US.” So actually, Keegan is my real name.
Seven years old, 1994 – The year I moved to Melbourne, Australia. One day a pastor of a church approached my mum especially, and had a few quiet words with her, while I was at a distance. I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but after they had finished talking, the lady came up to me and said: “Your name is now Samuel. You shall not be called Keegan ever again.” And I never saw her ever again. And I thank her so much today, because my life would have been totally ruined if she did not step in to help an innocent me out on that day.
Eight years old – grade 2 – 1995 – One day, my mum was telling a friend that my English had improved a lot since coming to Australia. The friend was impressed, so when we were leaving their house, she came up to me to ask me about some English. She said in Chinese: “This word I have trouble with.” And she wrote it on a small whiteboard “a-c-c-i-d-e-n-t”. She asked: “How to say that? Some friend tell me there is ‘c’ that sound like ‘acc’. I am confused.” And I accidentally said: there is no ‘c’ sound, because both the ‘c’s are silent. “It is ‘assident’” I said, and she said: “Oh oh oh oh...assident…” And I never saw her again.
Nine years old – grade 3 - 1996 – By this time, I had already spent one year in primary school. I was very shy. I remember I once had to do a presentation on chain saws. On the platform in front of everybody, my legs were shaking, and so were my hands, that I couldn’t hold the presentation poster up properly. And the teacher had to say: “Speak a bit louder please” so many times until she was so fed up and said: “Samuel we can’t hear you! Open your mouth!” In those days, I didn’t talk much. Once I wanted to play with some of my classmates in the newly built playground, but they said: “If you want to play with us, you have to talk.” That wasn’t okay with me so I didn’t talk, and they left me to sit by myself.
Eleven years old – grade 5 – 1998 – This was the year that I felt especially tall and big. In fact I was the tallest in the class. Whenever I went up to take strike for T-ball, I would hear murmurs of: “Oh no it’s Sam, get back, get back.” And if Eugene was up here it would be: “It…it can’t be.” I was very dedicated to my sport in grade 5. Once, I was playing dodge ball on the asphalt. I was being chased by someone with the ball, so I ran as fast as I could to the bali safe zone, but running by itself wouldn’t have been fast enough – at the last moment, I had to jump and I jumped and landed horizontally into the safe zone. I was safe, but my right elbow was bleeding badly. This was the first time I had personally experienced… people crowding around me to ask: “Are you okay?” Which was a bad question to ask, because firstly, there were about 20 people asking the same question, and secondly, ‘no I’m not okay’, what are you going to do about it? So the teacher helps me onto my feet and says: “So… do you think you can get to the sick bay um…by yourself?” And I did – probably because I didn’t have any friends. In the same year, I met a guy who had just moved to my primary school. His name was Dominic. I don’t know how I became friends with him, but it was just probably because I was shy and he was new. One thing that made it easy to talk to Dominic was his humour. I remember a few jokes that he had and one specifically was the way he imitated Asians, especially the Chinese storekeeper lady in the local milk bar. He once said to me that I ought to be thankful to him because he was the one who made me talk. To think about it, it makes some sense.
Thirteen years old – year 7 – 2000 – This was the year that I began to take an interest in girls but I was still very, very shy. I could only talk to the very shy and ‘less’ good-looking girls, or if they were half my size, it would be easier too. But the problem was that I was shortsighted, and I did not like to wear glasses, because I thought it looked really bad on me, so I couldn’t really see any of the girls anyway.
Fourteen years old – year 8 – 2001 – I was at the optometrist for my half-yearly check-up. And the optometrist said that my eyes were getting worse. So my mum said to the optometrist in Chinese: “Ahh na ying gai zen me ban?” Which means, “Then, what is next??” The optometrist said fobbily: “No worry, just tell him to wear the contact lenses.” And she did. And from then on, my eyes were open. School was a completely different world to what I had known. This was the year that I saw a unique girl at school. She was quiet and shy, but her walk was majestic. Every time we walked past each other in the tight corridors it was in slow motion – for me. It was one of those times where even if she comes to slap me in the face, it would feel quite alright. I still remember the feeling when her eyes looked into mine - all those corridor experiences. It was like a silver spear shooting straight into my heart. I remember hiding under an arts desk with a friend while talking about who we liked. At that time, we could have talked non-stop about the topic, because we both held the other's secret. One time he said to me: "Samuel if you like her so much, you really should go tell her." I did not act, and I do not regret.
Fifteen years old – year 9 – 2002 – At the start of the year I was depressed – stoned, my classmates told me. One day in class I was staring at the ceiling and I saw the girl (from the year before)’s initials on the ledge floating, and I stared. And that was the time Mr. James yelled out at me: “Wake up Sam, you’ve been doing that for the past 15 minutes, and stop leaning your head on your arms. Stop being so pathetic!” At that time, I just felt that the school gender could have been more balanced. It wasn't that I needed girls to survive, but it was just that there was a lack of certain cultural aspects in the school, as a result of a shortage of girls.
Sixteen years old – year 10 – 2003 – There was a critical moment in this year, and it happened just before recess at 10:00am. There were some announcements about sport, and at the end, the announcer announced a final call for lawn bowlers to go to T4 at recess. At first I was reluctant to go. Although I was looking for a sports team to join, could I take myself to sink as low as lawn bowls? So I asked Jason to come with me, he did, the meeting had about 4 people, but it indeed was a life changing experience. Year 10 was also the year that Michael Yang gave me free massages all year when he actually thought that he was "inflicting pain" upon my hands. Love it.
Year 11, nothing happened.
Year 12, nothing happened.
Uni 1st year, nothing happened.
And for the rest of my life, it is too current to share with you all.
If you’re still around, I’ll share them with you at my 50th (edit: wedding).
I’d like to thank my mum for sending me to a multitude of classes per year even up to year 9, as well as doing all the daily things, and other stuff for me.
I’d like to thank my dad, who believes in me, in what I can do, and who is proud of his son. And that is enough for me to do what he requires of me.
And thanks to my brother Abe for being a great older brother in doing things unparallel to what a younger brother could do for him. Whatever that might mean.
This is My Life. I am the Sam. I am 21, I am single and I am not looking. Thank you very much.
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