I started my journey to America in 1955 on a fine, late summer day with a one-way ticket from Formosa (now Taiwan). I was 5'8, weighed 105 pounds, had protruding front teeth and was very dark from being in the constant sun during my previous year's military duty. I wore my best jacket with khaki pants, held on my 18-inch waist by a size-32 belt with the extra length waving like a tail. Dragging a bamboo suitcase and carrying a Chinese violin, I embarked on a Canadian Pacific Airlines DC 7 to San Francisco via Tokyo and Vancouver, BC. There were about ten of us Chinese students on board destined for graduate studies in different American universities...I was waiting at the IRT Borough Hall subway station in Brooklyn. A rain shower had just ended. A warm mist lingered in the subway tunnel and then began to dissipate through the wire mesh openings to the ground above. As a screeching train came to a halt, I saw her exiting at the far end of the platform in a fitted beige raincoat with a kerchief over her head. As I stood by the turnstile, I watched her sailing toward me in her smooth stride, the hem of her coat clinging to beautiful legs. She was smiling through a dreamlike haze as she spotted me. Accelerating her pace, she came upon me: "Hi, Yuupin!" As she hugged and kissed me, a smile radiated from her mouth and rippled up to wrinkle the corners of her sparkling blue eyes....