It was a misty morning on Hong Kong island as we boarded the Peak Tram for a ride up to Victoria Heights, the highest point in all of Hong Kong. My tour guide was a friendly young Chinese waitress I had met in my hotel's coffee shop. She loved to talk to Americans and of her dreams of someday coming to America. "Too many people in Hong Kong. Too crowded. I want to leave. America would be my first choice," she would say.

Just the day before, on my fifth day of my R&R visit, she, Lee Kim Chun, had offered to take me to a very special place the next morning. Knowing she was no bar girl or prostitute, I didn't get my fantasies up about that, but was eager to see what this lovely Hong Kong native considered special.

So, I met her at 8 AM at the Peak Tram station as she had directed. Two round trip tickets, and up we started. Up a steep grade in a steel cage cable car. Up the mountain, through the mist, though that tree covered patch of over-crowded Hong Kong island, past many splendid houses. Finally reaching the top, we walked down a wide cement path toward the wide viewing area. It was a weekday morning so it was not crowded at all. We reached the edge and Hong Kong harbor lay below. City lights were still visible through the mist as were the Star Ferries plying their course across Hong Kong harbor, from Kowloon to Hong Kong island and back. Hundreds of times a day.

And so many container ships arriving and departing that busy harbor, plus a significant number of "junks", those quintessential Chinese utility boats. As the sun and the mist continued to rise, the view became more overwhelming. For me, it was as if the curtain was slowly being raised on the world. Never had I experienced such fascinating stimulation. It was a bee-hive, it looked like chaos, but it was so organized; ships and junks crossing courses of Ferries and general boating - all under the shadows of the uncountable numbers of office buildings and apartments.

Perhaps because I obviously found so special that place which she found special, she held my arm, listened to my comments, and patiently, enthusiastically shared the moment with me -- which lasted about two hours...

Finally, she said she had the lunch shift at the hotel and needed to start back. I said to her, "This is indeed a special place. I can't thank you enough."

She smiled as she put her arms around me, "I knew you would like it. Not all men really appreciate these things, but I knew you would."

Lucky me, that warm embrace led to a very soft and sweet kiss. A most unforgettable kiss. A very special kiss in a special place between two human ships passing in the mist, metaphorically speaking...

I never saw her again. She had left the coffee shop that afternoon when I returned to the hotel and I left the next morning for old Kai Tak airport. My Rest & Recuperation was over. I had to return to my final six months of Navy duty. My head was spinning as I boarded that plane. Without a doubt, the experience and memory of that sweet moment with a beautiful young Chinese woman on a mountain above Hong Kong's harbor was like a movie that kept playing and playing and playing... We traded a few letters, even after I got home, but we both knew our story would never reach chapter two.

Of equal grip on me, however, to the woman of Victoria Heights, was that view of world trade in concentrated form. My future was possibly destined to be in business anyway, because science and math were not my strong suits. I had recognized long ago that brain surgery and rocket science were not the careers I should pursue. My dad had worked for the state for decades, had retired in his sixties to start a real estate company and was doing pretty good. He looked forward to my joining him and taking over after completing my Navy service and the remaining two years of university.

But now, things might be changing. I had seen something that I could never forget. I had seen world trade. I had experienced the bustling streets of major international cities, and now this view! Where I had failed at my college studies in the general business/real estate/insurance fields, I now had a new vision of where I belonged, where I wanted to be, what I wanted to do. I had never felt that way!

Research back at the base library and from guidance personnel, I found that my old point of educational shipwreck, the University of Texas, had an International Business degree plan. Only because I was a returning veteran was I accepted, my academic record being an "A" for "abysmal", I started summer classes one week after returning from Viet-nam era active duty.

Austin, my hometown, was just starting to get crazy. A sleepy little university town with state government, had gotten a little rowdy during the anti-war protests of the sixties and seventies. Then Willie Nelson moved down and joined up with less known musicians.
Sha-bamm!

I managed to stay focused, mostly, on studies enough to get that International Business degree and snagged a job offer from a major corporation in New York City, in their international trading group. Almost nobody who grew up in Austin left Austin in those days. So, for me to take a job elsewhere was a surprise to family and friends, but in New York City? Absolutely insane! I figured, however, after two years in Asia, experiencing Manila, Tokyo, Taipei and, especially, Hong Kong, what could go wrong?

I met her one night, my fourth night in Manhattan, up on 77th street. Just off 2nd Avenue.

A real estate agent had sent me there to look at an apartment. The "Super" wasn't in, so I just sat on the stoop waiting. That's what New Yorkers do, they sit on the stoop. I saw it in West Side Story. I said to myself, "Hey, I'm a New Yorker now so I sit on stoops. Just call me Vinnie. Getoutahere!"

Suddenly, there was banging and clanging behind me. A young woman was trying to get out of the brownstone's front door with a chair. The spring on that door was serious and she was having a tough time. I jumped up, grabbed the door handle and opened the door saying, "Can I help you with that chair, little lady?"

"No! I can do it. You're not from he-ah ah you?"

"No, ma'am. I'm from Texas. I just got hired for a job up here and they sent me to look at an apartment in this building. I'm just sittin' on the stoop, waiting for the Super, as y'all say."

"Well, thanks for opening the door. Good luck with the Super. I've got to take this chair to my cah."

Perhaps ten minutes later, she returned. "You still he-ah?"

"It's here or just back to the hotel. I'll give it a while. Anyway, it's nice out here on the stoop."

She went in. Five minutes later, she returned. "I know its 2B that is vacant. My roommate and I live in 4B, so it's the same floorplan. Why don't you come up and take a look so you'll know what it looks like. You don't want to wait on that Super. He is also a cop and he works some strange hours."

So, my fourth night in New York City and I'm invited up to a pretty lady's apartment and I'm on the couch talking to her and her pretty roommate and they open a bottle of wine. "I think I'm going to like New York City!" I told them. I was going to take that apartment, I really didn't care what it looked like!

A couple of weeks later, I had gotten all moved in and set up. I was into my new life, riding the Lex down to 59th, changing trains to Rockefeller Center and a walk to 48th and 6th. I ran into my lady neighbor, Amy, one afternoon. She told me that a restaurant across on 2nd served all-you-can-eat fried chicken on Monday nights. She thought a Texan might like to know that. I thanked her and asked if she would join me.

"I don't eat fried chicken," she said, "but I like their bur-gahs".

Monday. Around seven. We walk over to Mad Hatters. Things were going well until we got to the front door. I reached out and opened it for her...

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"I'm opening the door for a lady. It's what we do."

"We're not in Texas. We don't do that he-ah!"

I apologized for my redneck ways and promised to remember I was not in Texas anymore. Things settled until we got to the table and I pulled out her chair. Lord, have mercy! It was, after all, 1974 and yankee girls were really into the "I am woman!" thing. Lots to learn being in New York City.

We talked. I learned she was from Plymouth, Massachusetts, had just arrived for a job in New York a year earlier, got into an apartment lease, but her company shortly transferred her to the Jersey office. So, she commuted out of the city every day to Jersey. She had a boyfriend in Plymouth, so she went home most weekends, stayed at her mother's, and saw the boyfriend and friends. I also learned that bur-gahs up they-ah are generally served on English Muffins. Who knew?

Months went by and we said hello as we passed. Had a couple of shared meals, but you could not call them dates. Then, one Saturday afternoon I was returning from Central Park and ran into her on our street.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Plymouth today?" I laughed.

"We broke up. It was going nowhere, so, we broke up."

"I'm sorry, but, hey, I have no plans for tonight. Would you like to have dinner somewhere?" I asked.

Not a fancy place, but a step up from fried chicken and burgers, we arrived and she seemed to stop at the front door. I reached over and opened it. She said nothing. Neither thanks nor condemnation. She just walked in. Sometimes the shifting of tectonic plates can be subtle...

There were walks around Gracie Mansion's park on the East River, trips to Bloomie's, down to Greenwich Village... There were moments, some even sweet, but the relationship was like the ball circling above a roulette wheel, going around and around and around, but never falling into the winning number's slot.

When her lease was finally up, she moved out of the city so she would not have to commute out to Jersey anymore. We talked some by phone, but then my company decided to send me to Hong Kong on temporary assignment. I was to handle routine sales service while the Asia manager got involved in some serious market research for a proposed new plant. Hong Kong! Been there! Going back!

No, I did not expect to see Lee Kim Chun. It had been nearly four years since that day and I had a feeling that by now that charming, beautiful woman had found her ticket to America, married him, was probably living near LA. In one of her last letters to me, she had said that she had landed a stewardess job with Cathay Pacific. What better way to meet an American with a good future and who would surely be returning home at some point? During my time in Asia, I don't think I ever met a young woman who did not want to marry, or was at least amenable to marrying, an American man. I'd like to think it was our fame as the world's greatest lovers, but I suspect it had more to do with citizenship, safety and shopping. My friend had one goal: get to America. I had no doubt that she would. Anyway, I didn't have her phone number...

One night during my four months working out of the Hong Kong office, I was on a flight from Bangkok to Hong Kong, I was enjoying an upgrade and the extra scotch which went with it, plus chatting with a friendly stewardess in First Class. Possibly, she had noted that I was wearing no wedding ring, I was in First Class and that I was an American. My unremarkable facial features made no difference, I was a prospect. But, I told her about my friend Lee Kim Chun and ask if she knew her, or would put my card in her box if she had one. She did not know her, but agreed.

My Liverpudlian roommate in our "mid-levels" apartment answered the phone when Lee Kim Chun called. I was not there. She left no number and never called again. I am certain that she had called to tell me she was married or about to be, probably to an American. I was honored that she would call. Her message was clear and not a surprise. I toasted her success.

Hong Kong assignment completed, I headed home to Texas for a belated Christmas, then back to New York City. Almost anyone who ever returned from a foreign assignment to the corporate office will attest: the returnee is not welcomed as a hero. Whatever responsibilities once won are gone. Whatever respect there was that facilitated getting the foreign assignment, have been forgotten. Whatever was built of a career now lay in rubble. I was back to near entry status. In New York City.

Amy was still living and working in New Jersey. We got together a few times. Off and on. Both working on careers, or, in my case, trying to get one back on track. Resumes out. Tough times. But, another international company hired me. I never thought I would be excited about moving to Jersey, but I was done with New York City. Bought a car! Life was improving although the job was no big deal. Saw Amy now and then. Nothing much happening there.

But she, a New England gal, called in late September. Seemed she wanted to visit Vermont at the "peak" (when the leaves are at their highest color) and had no one to join her. She told me I should see the beauty of the Fall leaves. She said she would drive if I would spend a weekend up there, but I had to rent my own hotel room. I agreed.

We were maybe a weekend ahead of the peak, but there was eye-popping beauty. Cactus and cedar in Texas don't change color so I had never seen anything like it. Loved it! On Saturday morning, we got up early to go to a favorite spot of hers, Mt. Killington, where she had skied in her teens. It is a ski area, but they run the ski lifts in the Fall so people can ride up to the top and enjoy grossly over-priced hot chocolate and colorful leaves.

At the base, there was some color, but still much green. As we rode up in that gondola, the percent of color went up. Another few hundred feet, more color. Then, more color. A bit farther, all color! Then, the surprise: at the very top of Mt. Killington, snow! A snow shower overnight had left more than a dusting at the top of that mountain. We cleared a bench and sat there. Looking across a few yards of snow, down the mountain's red and gold trees to the partly green valley below. Very special. Very beautiful. I bought some hot chocolate for her. We lingered. We hugged. We laughed. We even kissed. We, of course, made no commitments...

As we stood up, I opined, "Isn't this trip up Mt. Killington a metaphor of life? I mean, you start out, you think you know what you are going to see, but as you go along, surprises -- and, they can be welcome surprises. We saw the color we came for, but then, the snow we did not expect and especially the feelings we have shared! What a life metaphor!"

"Come on, Mr. Metaphor, we've got some shopping to do."

Well, the moment was gone, but it was sweet. It was memorable. Maybe that roulette ball was thinking about maybe dropping into the winning number? We headed down the mountain to some "House of Karma" gift shop. She shopped. I found some coffee and hot apple doughnuts. Ever had hot apple doughnuts in Vermont? Go there. Get those.

So, making a long story shorter, she bought some "art", I bought some wine and we headed back to the town. More shopping stops. More hand-holding, more hugs, more laughter. Finally, dinner at a friendly Irish pub. A great day, a great evening. Was the roulette ball about to finally drop? Feelin' lucky!

In real life, there is a real and significant gap between "Prince meets damsel-causing-this-stress" and "They lived happily ever after." The weekend quickly faded back into two Boomers trying to get careers started and not interested in playing house. We talked on occasion... The old roulette ball had dropped, but missed the winning number's slot...

My New Jersey employer's computer must have picked out my name as being from Texas because I soon received an invitation to apply for a sales office management position in Texas. Nobody in Jersey wanted to go there. I was like Brer Rabbit, "Oh don't throw me in that briar patch!" Got a quantum increase in money, a company car, some autonomy and a ticket out of Jersey. Texas, your boy's comin' home!

Tired of apartment living, I bought a tract home in a subdivision outside of Houston. I was the only bachelor in the neighborhood and the other guys said I could not come to their house if they were not home. My weekends were spent in golf, garden and grass - as in mowing. I was in heaven. Back to real life!

My phone bill, however, was becoming a real problem. Seems I was calling Amy almost every day! Or, she was calling me. We were talking more than we ever talked in New York or New Jersey. I think the phrase "I miss you" was even used on occasion and we had never used that language. Then, when my corporate bosses called a Jersey business group-grope, coincidentally scheduled shortly after her birthday, I called her...

"I've got to fly into Newark that week after your birthday. Would you be interested in picking me up at the airport on Saturday? Maybe we could head down to New Hope (an artsy-craftsy place in PA we had visited together)?" She agreed.

She was there. In her car at the pick-up curb. She had no gun, but she was armed. French bread and brie, two bottles of wine, and dressed like a doll. Finding a beautiful spot along the Delaware River, we had a bite of brie, a bit of we, a sip or few, and I, surely under the influence, said, "I want to marry you!"

"It's about time! What took you so long?' she challenged. I shall spare you this entire conversation. But, suffice it to say, it was indeed another metaphor of real life: It was my fault that we had known each other for three years and it took me so long to get to the point. (It was only the first of what truly totals thousands of my faults. Is there a man who is not generally at fault for everything?)

So, the roulette ball had finally dropped, landing on the winning number, "2". As we called parents and friends to announce our plans, we laughed of the Mt. Killington day which was the day we fell in love, but chose to ignore it. Again, I submit, "In real life, there is a real and significant gap between "Prince meets "damsel-causing-this-stress" and "They lived happily ever after."

At the bottom line, my life was defined by two mountains and the two beautiful women who led me to them. One introduced me to what my future could be, should be, and awakened me to my personal need for adventure in my career. My resulting career took me to twenty-five countries and most of our states. It was the perfect life for me.

The other gave me companionship these decades, three children, with dividends of grand-children, and shared my love of travel and adventure. Even now, long retired, the RV in our driveway continues our propensity to wander together. My life would never have been so wonderful without either of these women and their mountains which gave me clear views and hints of the future's possibilities.

I do hope Heaven allows us to have a chat with those who had a great impact on our lives. I'd like to know how Lee Kim Chun made out. Did she make it to America? Was her life happy? I'd like to tell her about what happened with mine and what a great role she played. I'd like to thank her. I'd like to talk to her... At least until my wife arrives.