Growing up, there were two Asian families in Coolidge, AZ worth mentioning, the Dongs and the Ongs. Hand to God no shit, the Dongs and the Ongs
The Ongs owned a Chinese buffet. I mean how cliche. They might as well have opened a nail parlor or some other sort of Asiany thing like a Filipino Prison Dance Camp. see below
Unlike most rural Chinese restaurant owners, the Ongs played a small role in my childhood development. Sure, their daughter Rita taught me how to stuff hamburger meat into wonton wrappers during Mrs. Frasier's comprehensive lesson plan of China but it was only a matter of time before I mastered wontonery on my own. My most memorable moment involving the Ong Clan came when Gregory Reese a.k.a "Fat Man" approached Rita with some legitimate requests outside of her father's restaurant. First he asked her to "speak some Spanish to me" and when she made it quite clear that she didn't any he threw potato chips at her. Her dad ran him off with a broom. I don't know why I was there but I was. Oh, to be in 5th grade again. I never knew what became of "Fat Man" but then again I don't read the Wall Street Journal as frequently as I should.
The Dongs owned Coolidge Market which of course was on Coolidge Avenue. They lived one street over in a green two-story mini mansion that sat on a larger than average parcel of land on Lincoln Avenue. When I was younger we seemed to go their store much more often than in my teen years. It must have been their everyday low prices on various Mexican foods and what-have-yous that kept us coming. I really did hate going into that place. It just reminded me of being poor and I surely didn't need that kind of reality check as a little kid. That dose of reality would come much later when I realized I shouldn't own a credit card or let alone an Abercrombie & Fitch card with a $500 balance.
Anywho, back to being poor. I really wanted some strawberry wafers and like most chubby children, I decided not to take "No" for an answer when it came to food. Momma Mary wasn't going to let me have them. So then I had this genius idea of putting them up my shirt. I witnessed my first successful shoplifting only a week prior when my little brother stuffed a World Wrestling Federation magazine up his shirt at Safeway. No one would ever think to look up there. Well, normally they wouldn't unless you were wearing a skin tight t-shirt with a noticeable brick planted underneath. Plus, the oldest Dong daughter saw me do it through the cleverly placed high tech convex security mirrors. You better believe I was thrown out of that place so fast the wafers hadn't even hit the ground. see wafer ears
My mom didn't spank me; however i was sure that something would ensue. It never happened. I just remember her marveling in my stupidity and my downright lack of cunning and her deriding glare as if to say what the hell was that kid thinking? when she ultimately just laughed it off. I didn't step foot in that place again until I was 16 and ready to buy cheap beer and liquor from those crafty Chinamen. Little did they know, that the little boy, who, only ten years prior, had attempted to swipe strawberry wafers was now illegally buying a few bottles of strawberry Cisco. The sad thing is that I am more ashamed of drinking Cisco than I am of shoplifting strawberry wafers and getting caught. What does that tell you of my value system?
