The first time I went to China, I was initially overwhelmed by culture shock: the seemingly primitive conditions in some aspects of Chinese life seemed in stark contrast with the widespread cell phone ownership and use; the pervasive smells and sights of the farms and cities, and the startlingly low prices of consumer goods in the shops, was contrasted with the widespread computer use and cheap access via “Internet Cafes.” Except for cell phones and computers, small town life in China reminds me of what it must have been like here, one hundred years or so ago.

After I got to know some of the people, I began to focus more on individual norms and customs. There were almost no fat people. I brought, along with the group of teachers in my group, most of the human fat to the little town in southern China. We were at approximately the same latitude as Havana, Cuba, and the heat was sweltering.

I also noticed that many young ladies had a giant-sized “hickey” on their necks! I was very curious about the cause of these painful-looking, angry red suction marks. Was it something like a certain tattoo, or wearing certain colors, that indicated membership in a gang? I was determined to find out.

But first: have you ever looked at an obese young person and thought, “She (he) has a pretty face, and would be a real “looker” — except for the fat? Well, in most of China, those people are all thin. Around Beijing or other larger cities, one may see Chinese people with more heft on them, a sign of prosperity in that country, but even there, and in smaller cities and farms through China, obesity is not one of China’s problems.

Ryan, our Chinese supervisor, was a good example. When Ryan went with us to eat, he would order everything on the menu. Although the food was excellent, there was always food left in the common bowls from which we ate, served ourselves, and each other, with our chopsticks, after the Americans were thoroughly stuffed. It did not go to waste.

Ryan took care of the remaining food. That skinny Chinese man ate everything that was left! I literally don’t know where he put it. Observed from the side, one might think you could feel his backbone through his stomach. One of his favorites was, as he put it, “crams,” those sea creatures that leave a shell, which we use for driveways and such. Ryan is a young, intelligent man, most likely a party member, with a wife and child. I haven’t seen him in several years, but I’d bet he hasn’t gained a pound.

Cut to the present: We were taking a walk down memory lane, just my high school sweetheart and me. Though we have now been man and wife for 51 years and counting, we still enjoy the occasional reminiscing about “the old days.”

“I would be quite willing,” I told her, “to go back to how life was one hundred years ago, with one exception: air conditioning. I remember how it was when I was a kid, in the summer, with no A/C, no attic fan, nothing but the faint hope of a little breeze to feel on my face, as I slept with my face as close to the window sill as possible,”

“We had an attic fan,” Sue said, “and it helped a lot. When it was working. All it did, of course, was draw in hot air, but that was better than nothing. And when the belt broke or slipped off, Mom pestered Daddy until he finally fixed it.”

I look forward with yearning now to that first cool breeze of autumn. I promise to not complain, no matter how cold it gets. Thinking of cool, crisp autumn days and nights brings another memory from the 50’s to the surface: “the barn.”

It was a deserted frame house in Groves, near the Pure-Atlantic Highway and Hogaboom road, in the middle of a field, stacked inside with hay. I don’t know how it got started, but it became a meeting place for teens from Mid-County, Groves, and Pear Ridge. Driving by on the highway, one might see from two or three, to six or eight cars parked on the side of the road.

The car’s occupants were teenagers, and they were inside “the barn,” climbing through the house over the bales of hay, in the cool dark night, some of them smooching, others chasing each other over the hay, enjoying the freedom of getting together without adult supervision. I don’t remember what happened to it, but I suspect someone locked it up, or burned it down. But for a while, it was a cool place to be. Do you remember "the barn?"

Oh, I found out about those “hickeys” on the necks of the Chinese women: it was extremely hot, and most people had no cooling in their homes or workplaces; the women would pinch their skin — fiercely — so that the pain from the pinch would make them forget about the heat.

I asked one of the young American women in our group of teachers if she thought she might resort to that method of dealing with the heat.

“No, she said, “but if I get uncomfortable enough, I might pinch a hickey on somebody else!”

Gene Dammon of Port Neches is a contributing writer to the Port Arthur News. His e-mail address is: rdammon@gt.rr.com.