b'ForewordI have so few memories of my grandfather. I was only four when he died, but Im told that we were around each oth-er quite often in our short time together. During these occasions, I imagine he mustve said a great many things to methe usual things, anyway, that are said to a child of that age. Words of praise for when I was well-behaved, which Im sure was nearly all of the time, along with words of reproach for the exceedingly rare moments in which I wasnt. Young as I was, I hope that I was able to recognize them both to be words of love all the same, but probably not. Of course, Im only guessing at the nature of our conversations because Im unfortunately unable to recall a single thing he ever said to me. All I re-member of him are images, really, made faint by the passing of the years and growing fainter still. In one of these images, I can see the smile on his face as I run to give him a hugor was it to show off a new toy? In another, I notice how weak and motionless he is, lying in bed during what I now know to be his final days. Every day that passes, it feels like I lose him a little bit more in my mind, and while the thought of this saddens me, what saddens me more is that someday my grandfathers name and all of his accomplishments might be lost to time altogetherI dont want the memory of my grandfather to die. He was a great man who stood against impossible odds at a pivotal moment in human history, of which our own family history is now entwined. His story has always instilled within me gratitude, pride, and inspiration, and I hope it can continue to do so, long after the both of us are gone. Much of the following information was compiled by my mother, Joan Chien.Peter Liu9'