The Coffee Pot, Morro Bay, California, USA
Morro Bay is the best coastal town in California. It has not changed over the years since I grew up in the area. How fortunate it is that the author of this book lives there, and that his home looks out at the ocean. It would be fortunate if we, my husbands and I, lived there too. We had other fortunes in life. Morro Bay was just a place to visit for us.
We went to California last year to visit my family--a family reunion. My brother, who was fortunate enough to have never left Paso Robles, told us about The Coffee Pot Restaurant, so we met there for breakfast. The service was great, and the food was excellent.
In the meantime I heard about its owner, who had written a book about his escape from communist China in the early 50s. During that time I was living in Paso Robles, only coming to Morro Bay with my parents to eat at a sea food restaurant, check out the sea lions, the pelicans, and the tide pools. Chi Fa, the author of this book, was starving in China, he lost both of his parents, and relatives couldn’t afford to feed him, so he was shuffled around to different ones who didn’t want him because they couldn’t feed him. Some were even physically abusive, in fact, it seemed that that is all he got from them outside of a small bowl of rice. How different our lives were.
Chi Fa didn’t make it to the U.S. until 1969, but his book doesn’t say when he came to Morro Bay or when he bought the restaurant. He really was a person with Double Luck.
I think of his Dicksonian life, and then I recall his escape from China, a life that no child should have to live. No one, in fact, should have to live like he had.
He begged in the streets and gave his brother all the money he had made, even when he got a real job. His brother gambled and drank it all away, well, perhaps he used some for rent and food. But I suppose this made Chi Fa strong in the long run; I don’t know.
As I look back at our time eating in his restaurant, I wonder if Chi Fa thinks often of his days where he had begged for money to buy food. I do know this, he is very grateful for having come to America, a dream of his ever since someone told him that America was a wonderful place to live as people lived in homes with running water, heat, and there was plenty of food. I recall his job at the Officer’s Club in one of the Asian countries that he was living in at the time, and how the men there lived high on the hog. At least then he was able to eat at the club twice a day. It was there that he learned more about America.
I have no idea how China is today, but I have read that peasants still have a very hard time making ends meet, if they can make them meet at all.
I have a Chinese friend whom I met in Berkeley, California in the 70s. When she went back to visit China she said that they had no milk. I suppose milk was important to her since moving here, as she didn’t say whether China used to have milk. She had grown up during the revolution and had to help feed her family. She never talked about it, but she told our mutual friend that she did things that she didn’t like having to do in order to feed her family, that is, her parents and siblings. She and her family all live here now.
When I finished my breakfast, I walked up to the counter, bought Chi Fa’s book and asked him to autograph it for me. It is read and discussed in the schools in San Luis Obispo County, which Paso Robles and Morro Bay are both in, and all proceeds go to schools for scholarships. Chi Fa continues to give back to a country that took him in, one that fed and clothed him.