Yes, each story has its largely-untold face.  Even this short story will no doubt have a set of truths that dip past the willingness of my fingers to move along the keyboard.

This post is about my mom.  She’s a really nice and generous lady who has become a friend to me more and more over the years.  I go to her for advice and comfort, as any child should.  Sadly, she and my dad are no longer married.  By the same token, happily, she and my father are no longer married.  Thankfully, they are still friends and our family — though not picture-perfect — is still a cohesive family (as cohesive families tend to go these days).

Often times she doesn’t factor into my stories about the restaurant because she left the business when she and my dad separated in 2001.  But she works at Red Moon on Fridays, which is actually fun for all of us.  It’s kind of nice to indulge ourselves in “something for old time’s sake” once in awhile.  I think it shows us that our resilience as individuals permit us to hold on to things that are good… no matter what has transpired between now and then.

So in honor of that spirit, I present to you faithful blog readers grainy photographs of my parents in their early days of being restaurateurs (grainy because I snatched them via BlackBerry from a photo album at my grandma’s house today):

My dad, Tin Tat Kwan, tending to the stock pot at Kwan's Chinese Cuisine in 1982 shortly after he and Jennifer Kwan opened for business.

Kwan's Chinese Cuisine on 54th and Penn Avenue in Minneapolis in 1982 -- Jennifer Kwan pictured.

Jennifer Kwan getting some rice from the smallest rice cooker in Chinese restaurant history. Makes it seem like they were the first people in Minnesota to serve the stuff.

Shortly after opening Kwan's Chinese Cuisine in 1982, my parents discovered they were pregnant. Oh my.

Tin Tat Kwan in the kitchen of Kwan's Chinese Cuisine in the summer of 1982.

Today, I rediscovered this fun photo of my dad and scanned it so I could share it with my blog readers and on the “About Us” page of redmoonchinesecafe.com.  What I like about it is the smile, the optimism that shines through.  My dad is 27-years-old in the photo.  I am 27 right now.  Twenty-seven years prior to that photo being taken, dad was born in a fishing and rice-cultivating village in southern China where things would only go downhill as he grew under Communism’s grip.  Twenty-seven years after the photo brings us to today… when I couldn’t imagine having the courage to open up my own little restaurant — and the wherewithal to keep it running day after day.  My mom and dad are great successes because they made it work.  That’s pretty cool.

Tonight, I got a neat little story about our first restaurant, Kwan’s Chinese Cuisine (54th and Penn Ave. S., Minneapolis), because the person who took that photo was in the restaurant tonight.  My dad’s good, good friend, Warren and his wife Andrea are in every Saturday.  Warren was one of my dad’s first customers and pretty much instantly became a good friend.

How good a friend?  Well, shortly after my mom and dad opened their little chop suey joint (and Kwan’s really was a chop suey joint — with five booths, five tables and a ‘chow mein to take home’ neon sign in the window), the friendly Minneapolis health inspector came by to tell them their place was a dump.  And what did they know?  They just plunked money down to buy it!  It had to look perfect to them!  Turns out, they had ten thousand dollars in work that needed to be done… new tile floor, wall issues that needed to meet code, etc.  So what did they do?  Not much.  But Warren and his friend John came to the rescue.  They fixed the place up — working around my dad, who I believe refused to close for the two days they asked so they could get the job done.

Tin Tat, Warren and Andrea at Red Moon in 2009. A lot has changed. Thankfully, many things have not.

So much can change in 27 years.  But I’m glad some things do not, like great friendships with people like Warren.  There are a number of instances I do not know what my dad would have done without Warren’s friendship, compassion and advice.  For that, I’ll always be grateful.