“Rules of The Game” - Amy Tan.docVIP

“Rules of The Game” - Amy Tan I was six when my mother taught me the art of invisible strength. It was a strategy for winning arguments, respect from others, and eventually, though neither of us knew it at the time, chess games. Bite back your tongue, scolded my mother when I cried loudly, yanking her hand toward the store that sold bags of salted plums. At home, she said, Wise guy, he not go against wind. In Chinese we say, Come from South, blow with wind-poom!-North will follow. Strongest wind cannot be seen. The next week I bit back my tongue as we entered the store with the forbidden candies. When my mother finished her shopping, she quietly plucked a small bag of plums from the rack and put it on the counter with the rest of the items. , My mother imparted her daily truths so she could help my older brothers and me rise above our circumstances. We lived in. San Franciscos Chinatown. Like most of the other Chinese children who played in the back alleys of restaurants and curio shops, I didnt think we were poor. My bowl was always full, three five-course meals every day, beginning with a soup of mysterious things I didnt want to know the names of. We lived on Waverly Place, in a warm, clean, two-bedroom flat that sat above a small Chinese bakery specializing in steamed pastries and dim sum. In the early morning, when the alley was still quiet, I could smell fragrant red beans as they were cooked down to a pasty sweetness. By daybreak, our flat was heavy with the odor of fried sesame balls and sweet curried chicken crescents. From my bed, I would listen as my father got ready for work, then locked the door behind him, one-two-three clicks. At the end of our two-block alley was a small sandlot playground with swings and slides well-shined down the middle with use. The play area was bordered by wood-slat benches where old-country people sat cracking roasted watermelon seeds with their golden teeth and scattering the husks to an impatient gatherin