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Seven seas peter& hueping Hueping & Peter with their son, Vernon. Photo by Christy Mock. hen Peter Meidlinger left the United States for Brazil in 1985 after completing a master’s in linguistics at the University of Iowa, he believed he was leaving the academic life altogether. “I’m getting out of this” he recalls thinking, “academia isn’t the right route for me.” So when he returned to Iowa City in 1987 after teaching in an international high school in Brazil, he was only intending to make some money before going on to do something else with his life. As he puts it, he planned “a surgical strike — make some money, get outta there.” But that summer, teaching in an esl orientation program for international graduate students, Peter met Hueping Chin, a Taiwanese graduate student in the history department , and his plans for a quick departure were dramatically altered. “Hueping has a way of looking at people,” Peter tells us. “She is not fooled by appearances, and the look in her eyes can make superficial or phony people just a little uncomfortable. I noticed that in class.” As Peter had glanced around the class of international students, he recalls that most reverently nodded and smiled and otherwise indicated their willingness to trust him, to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Not Hueping. She was reserving judgment. I was going to have to show her that I had something to offer her as a teacher, and I found that quality very attractive.” Peter was impressed with Hueping’s sensitivity and intelligence , and admired her sense of humor. “Soon I started having those giddy moments that indicate love is involved. As a teacher, I had to deny those feelings, but I looked forward to seeing her in the morning, took extra delight in her ‘good mornings ’ to me. I had to remind myself that I was her teacher, that 140 { Seven Seas } W [3.128.199.88] Project MUSE (2024-04-26 10:08 GMT) I might never see her again after August, and that I might as well forget about it — what was I thinking?” But instead of forgetting about it, Peter decided to stay in Iowa City in hopes of asking Hueping out. “So I went to one of my teachers, Jim Marshall, and I said, ‘It’s the end of July, I’m broke, I have no job prospects, and I’m madly in love with a woman who’s stuck here for the next five years.’ And Jim said, ‘You’re perfect for graduate school!’” We all laugh at the story, but when Peter continues, he is serious , still marveling at the twist his life took. “I would not have gotten my degree, I would not have started the Ph.D. program at all, if Hueping hadn’t been stuck in Iowa City and if I hadn’t been committed to finding out what this relationship was about. The relationship was the commitment — not the degree. And I hadn’t even asked her out yet. She still did not know I was interested in her! She claims to this day she didn’t know.” “Well, Ididn’t know; I wasn’t presumptuous,” Hueping remarks mildly. So Peter stayed on in Iowa City, entering the Ph.D. program but, more important, plotting how to approach Hueping. The summer course was over, and he didn’t have her phone number. In any case, he wanted to be more casual than that, to bump into Hueping as though unintentionally. He waited for that chance encounter for weeks. “Finally, I ran into her at the corner of the library . I knew from the class that she liked films, so I said, ‘Citizen Kane’s playing tonight, do you want to go?’ And we went together. Then I think we’re dating.” Peter sits back with folded hands as though in satisfaction, before leaning forward to add, “But she thinks we just ran into each other.” { Peter & Hueping } 141 So sweet! we comment during this natural pause in the story, touched by Peter’s plan and his persistence. “See?” Peter says, in mock triumph to his wife. But now Hueping wants to explain her view of things. She wants our opinion, what should she have thought? “There I was, just checking books out from the library, and we ran into each other. Just talked a little; exchanged news about the break, ‘Did you see that the movie calendar is out — Citizen Kane...

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