Sunday, April 15, 2018
I heard the news a few hours ago and am in shock.
Dear Professor Hunt, you might have been perfect, but why did you make the mistake of dying on me? You hear me?
OK, you could die on me, for I have been your lousiest student. But what about Jian, the girl you and Paula married me, and who called you when the marriage was in trouble? You shouldn’t just leave us like this.
Jian and I are grownups now, but what about Franklin, Jefferson, and Hamilton, the triplets you “presumptuously” named? They are raised with the expectation of coming to knock on the door with three bottles of sherry in their hands. They are 18 now and they are COMING, Professor Hunt! How could you have done this to them?
I am in shock, and I am angry. Dear Professor Hunt, you never failed me, whether when I was in Chapel Hill, when I called you from Moscow and waking you up in the middle of the night, or after I have come to Hong Kong. I know I disappointed you, but I am working on it, OK? Didn’t you recently praise me for the business empire I am building? You trained me, you made me, you married me, you named my children, and finally, you failed me! You failed me big time, Professor Hunt, for what’s the meaning of all these endeavors of mine without you to show off to? You just shouldn’t die on me, on Jian, on the children, Professor Hunt.
I don’t want you to go, Professor Hunt.
