"200 years ago," says Mr. Lin, "The builder of the ku-ts'o had seven sons. My father descended from the second oldest, so according to tradition, we lived in the house on the right. When I grew up here in the fifties, there were 30 households, over 200 people, and lots of action. We had many, many places to play. The place was surrounded by rice paddies and east Taipei was considered the countryside." Now east Taipei is home to several boutiques and department stores, and the Bank of America office building.

Mr. Lin continues. "We were country people, early to bed, early to rise. At the crack of dawn, the cocks would crow, the babies would start crying, and the women would go out to wash clothes or prepare breakfast. My mother began her day by lighting the stove, and that acrid smoke always woke me up. My big brother and I (he is the second of six children) would feed our younger siblings. We'd put them in the wooden sink, lay the scouring board across it, place their bowls on that, and start feeding. Then we'd hear the school bell, grab our books and bolt across the paddies to school."

"After school, we'd come right back home. Sometimes we'd pick the duckweed off the paddy water and feed the ducks. The central hall was another favorite place. It was spacious and cool, but still was very sunny. The adults didn't like us to play there, but we'd go anyway. We never ruined anything. The door had beautiful stone carvings, and in the summer we'd itch our backs against them until they became bright and shiny. Inside cicadas would be in the wood carvings at the very top of the walls. Some of us would climb up on chairs with chopsticks to knock them down. Then there was a great number of stone tablets. Actually, before we stepped inside any school, we had memorized them all. Evenings people sat outside and we'd listen to the adults talk and exchange stories. That was life."

"Of course, New Year and weddings and funerals were special. During weddings, the courtyard would be full of tables and it would be quite exciting. Naturally there was a lot of curiosity about the new bride. During funerals, the deceased would lie in state in the central hall, and we children had to calm down and behave."

"Probably most unforgettable was the Ghost Festival. Every household put out a table, loaded with food and incense for the ghosts with no descendants. So many tables and food and smoke and smell. Quite a scene. We would burn the fake paper money in a configuration of the Eight Diagrams, burn it all up at once."

"Then before typhoons, our mothers would send us out to the bamboo groves beyond the paddies and we'd pick fresh bamboo shoots, since during the storm, there was no way to get food."

"Later, they started putting more and more roads in East Taipei and up next to us went a big office building. The central hall wasn't so sunny after that. During the big debate, about building a road through the residence, people would come to photograph the place, and in the end it came down. Towards the end, I kept rediscovering parts of the residence that I'd never really appreciated before. We moved to a big high-rise, but somehow there was much less space. I got curious and began to visit other ku-ts'o in central and south Taiwan."

"When it was being rebuilt, I'd go by after work and sit on the main gate threshold. As the workers would go back and forth, I'd think of all the stories that each room had to tell. I really regret not having the opportunity to have my wedding there and showing my wife the place as it was then. But I'm happy for my four-year old son. I can bring him there and say, 'This is where your father, your grandfather, his father. . . all grew up.'"

(Mark Halperin)

[Picture Caption]

1. Lin Ch'ing-lung: "This used to be my old room." 2. Children playing in the spacious courtyard in the kuts'o at Tun Hua South Road.

2. Children playing in the spacious courtyard in the kuts'o at Tun Hua South Road.