My dad has been taunting me with chess at long as I can remember. He's a mathematician by profession and has been playing with numbers and proofs since he was a child. As a boy in China, he was constantly sick with the symptoms of his numerous allergies. To help relieve boredom, he and his brother would play Chess and Go every afternoon. As a young teenager, his parents sent him to the US alone, the first of his family to escape the horrors of the war. He lived with a colleague of his dad (also a mathematician, and apparently pretty famous in China). He quickly learned English and slowly integrated into the new society, a radical departure from the one he knew before. This took years, so he missed the dubious honor of being an American Teenager.
Mom met him at a party in Philadelphia in the late 60's with a tap to a friend, "Hey- who's that cute chinese guy?" She's jewish, from Middletown, NY, at the foot of the Catskills. As I said, she's jewish. As for myself and my younger brother and sister, we were raised with jewish ideals, but not jewish religious beliefs or customs. In other words, we all eat gefilte fish and schmooze, but none of us speak a word of chinese or hebrew. It would make Amy Tan proud.
We were about as American as you can get, growing up on Long Island (long-gile-lan). We all went to public schools, and all dealt with puberty as awkwardly as the next person. As far as I can tell, we've all turned out as reasonably confident, well-adjusted people. We all went through dating, the torture of classes, after-school activities, the SATs, learning to drive, and so on.
Dad didn't. Not really, anyway. As far as I can tell, he never got a grade less than a B, and that was in English class- the first year he was here! He's pretty frightening that way. Mom was his first girlfriend. As near as I can tell, he doesn't really understand the humanities, arts, or much outside math or the sciences. But he's not an automaton- he's actually pretty funny, outgoing, and pretty popular, which is really rare for professors.
It's in this context that he asked, innocently enough, if I wanted to play chess one day. I was probably eight. If I'd been smart, I'd have said no, but of course, I'm entirely too curious. Of course, he whipped my butt all over the table. This pattern continued for years, until those words, "want to play chess?" would strike fear and dread in my heart. It was like mathematics- he tried to explain calculus to me at 10, under the pretense that I'd asked him about some homework problem, probably involving junior-high-school-level geometry. Anyway, I quickly learned to avoid asking him for help in math, and everything was ok.
Because when I did, it would lead to frustration. You know the old saying, "Never teach a pig to sing- you'll frustrate yourself and annoy the pig." Mathematically, I couldn't even hum, which probably broke his heart. Of course, neither could my brother or sister, but by then I think he'd given up hope.
But with chess, I latched on somewhat, and got reasonably good for my age. During junior high, I remember getting rides with mom or dad to drop me off at the public library to face the numerous adult challengers. I actually won fairly often, but there were a bunch of tough guys, usually old fogies, who'd kick your butt surer than the bullies would beat you up behind the school. Meanwhile, dad and I would play perhaps once a month. But as with many things borne in childhood, this slipped away at some point in high school. I began turning down dad's requests for lack of time or interest, and he stopped asking.
Growing up, I didn't consider him very close. This is mostly due to the huge culture gap- he never seemed to have a clue about anything I was going through. Trouble with a girlfriend would amount to, "well, do you like her?", and if the answer was yes, then you should stay together, and if it was well-maybe-I'm-not-sure, it was to break up. The annoying thing is that he's right- if you're him, his system works great. But if you're not, all bets are off. (Un)fortunately, Dad is totally unique. So his sage advice was rarely worth the time spent dispensing it. Gradually, he stopped offering.
Then in college, I switched my major from Fine Art (stone sculpture) to Computer Science. At around the same time, he began to explore the possibilities of electronically typesetting his manuscripts. As one of the few mathematicians at the time who didn't have a secretary typeset his papers, such an investment makes a lot of sense. As time went on, he learned more about computers, and I more math. Of course, I'd never know enough math to satisfy him for a minute- but at least we were on even ground, since he'd never learn enough about computers for me not to echo his exact words back to him: "Dad, this would be so much easier if you'd just learn the fundamentals." And of course, he didn't have time or interest, just as I didn't have it for math proofs.
About a year and a half ago, I got into UC Berkeley's PhD program in Computer Science. To dad, this was a huge deal. First, clearly I was taking this stuff seriously. Second, it became clear it was serious stuff- Cal CS is number one in the world, and CS is engineering, which is something he can understand. Third, it meant a PhD, which in my Dad's family is like a driver's license. Even mom eventually finished hers, and she needed a PhD like fish need bicycles. For dad, it meant reaching some kind of adulthood.
In the past year, we've gotten much closer. I think the hard-earned mutual respect of two professionals helps a lot, but only inasmuch as it serves as a vehicle to talk in the first place. Sure, he still sighs when he hears about some party I went to in the middle of the week, and I don't think he'll ever stop badgering me to get back to work, but I think that my childhood fears of never really having a dad are essentially unfounded- I hope my brother and sister realize this too at some point.
This past summer, I went to visit home, and offered to play chess with him. What I didn't tell him was that I had been practicing with my friend Chris, a fellow CS grad who's closely matched. Dad and I played a few games which were aborted. We play at a level where we can concoct something approximating a strategy, but sloppy enough to make glaring mistakes executing it. This leaves you either throwing out a lot of games, or unwinding the dumb moves. Dad and I prefer to unwind-- how else do you learn?
In the Last Game Before Dinner, we managed to play a game devoid of obvious blunders. You know them well enough: they're the games where one side gradually, but assuredly, pushes the opponent over the edge- not in some clever move where a queen is lost, but in a slow, methodical way. The game is not won or lost on a single move, but on a long sequence.
Obviously, I'm going to tell you that I won this game. But it wasn't until we sat around drinking tea after dinner that we both realized that this was a first in 12 years of playing chess. And Dad shook my hand just like when I got into grad school, said "Congratulations", and smiled knowingly.
December, 1993. (unpublished)
© 1993-2004 Adam Sah. This copyright pertains to all text contained as well as to material referenced from this page. Reproduction requires written consent of the copyright holder.