Adventure to the Locke Chop Shop

The year was 2001, and our relationship odyssey had just begun. Where would it take us? What adventures, and dangers, and wonderous lands awaited us? We imagined and ultimately charted our intentions for this shared voyage in a document we referred to as the “Dream List.” An endearing but not enduring term, as eventually (we’re not sure exactly when) we traded “Dream List” for the more popular term “Bucket List”, which perhaps better communicates the point: a list of all we’d like to accomplish before the voyage comes to its ultimate end (i.e., before our buckets are kicked). For the curious reader, our Bucket List story can be found here. The following is the story of one of the more obscure items on our Bucket List: “the Chop.”

“James?” “Yes, Kara.” “I would like to make a personal Chop.” “What a coincidence,” said James. “Me too!” And so, we thought very highly of the idea.

Of interest is that both of us had little notion of what a Chop was exactly, let alone how to make one. This was purposeful because pursuing experiences that are novel to both partners is a big relationship win. All we knew about the subject was that on many of the pieces of our Oriental Art collection, the artist applied a signature seal or symbol often referred to as a “Chop.” We reasoned that it would be handy (and somewhat regal) to use a symbol as a common signature, representing the two of us as an indivisible unit. The Chop seemed like a practical fulfillment of that desire.

“I think it’s a very practical fulfillment of that desire. Wouldn’t you agree, Kara?” “I would indeed, James.” And so, it was settled.

With Chop on the Bucket List, we sailed onward, letting the wind take us where she may. One day, we were directed by a sudden and strong desire to explore the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta. It happened like this: We were cruising easily along the Interstate with a convoy of strangers all heading to idiosyncratic destinations, but in the same general direction. Then, suddenly, we had “an urge.” It takes some folk a superhero measure of courage to veer from the familiarity of the lemming-migration trail known as the Interstate. Fortunately, on that day, we were imbued with a grand dose of curiosity, and we wheeled onto Highway 160 toward Walnut Grove, California. It was a memorable jaunt along the sharp curves of the levee that framed the Delta. At times, our tires tread uncomfortably close to the levee’s edge.

“You know, James …” “Yes, Kara?” “There are myriad reports of folk who failed to negotiate the tight turns along Highway 160, consequently plunging their cargo of passengers to a watery death.” “That’s very interesting, Kara. Let’s not do that.” And so, we agreed not to die that day, which was a sensible thing to do.

Our attention was drawn to a sign, in perfect relief, welcoming us to Historic Locke. We accepted the invitation. The town consisted of a few one-block-long streets. After some bit of tight circling, we settled on what we believed was a parking lot: an oddly shaped and not easily accessed dirt plot at one end of Main Street. In a reversion to our lemming tendencies, we concluded that since there were other people parked there, it must, indeed, be a parking lot. While this little detail is a rabbit trail from the main story, we felt it worthy of mentioning for the edification of those who may one day find themselves in Locke searching for parking. Google Maps Update: we have learned that there is now a paved parking lot in the exact spot. So, there you go. Thank you, Google.

“Kara, did you notice that the walkways are slanted and the buildings have shifted off their foundations?” “Yes, James, I did notice. It’s a bit like Alice in Wonderland.” And so, we visited a very small museum and then ate a very large (and delicious) meal at the Locke Garden Restaurant.

At the Chinese Cultural Center on Main Street, we were introduced to the rich and wonderful history of Locke. Legend has it that the first buildings were built in 1912 by three Chinese Merchants on property owned by George Locke. In a community of only a few hundred people, they focused on the essentials for any budding small town: a boarding house, a saloon, and a gambling hall. By the 1920’s, over 600 Chinese (Locke was an all-Chinese community) lived in the roaring little town of Locke. The businessmen of Locke provided entertainment for the surrounding communities in the form of gambling halls, speakeasies, brothels, and opium dens. If the local farmers were timid mice upon arriving in Locke, they were Roaring 20’s lions when they departed.

Unfortunately, the brothels, and speakeasies, and opium dens had long since been closed. And so, we went shopping.

In one shop, as we browsed among the shelves and tables of merchandise, we noticed a work of art. In the bottom corner was a Chinese character in red ink surrounded by a square outline. We questioned the proprietor about the nature of the marking, and she confirmed that it is often referred to in English as a “Personal Chop” or a “Personal Seal.” She disappeared behind a shelf, then reappeared holding a bright green fan-shaped box. In a light sing-song tone, she informed us that this was a Chinese Calligraphy Set. She slid back the little faux-ivory catches in the front and lifted the lid to reveal a red silk lined case, consisting of brushes, a black ink block, a mixing tray, a container of red pigment, and, as fate would have it, not one, but two blank soapstone pieces for carving one’s own Personal Chop.

“We must purchase this set and fulfill our Chop destiny!” “Yes, Kara. You are most wise. We must purchase the set … and a few other things too.” And so, we purchased three things that have over the years brought us great joy: a set of stress relief cloisonné Chinese Baoding Balls; a book we highly recommend titled Bitter Melon by Jeff Gillenkirk and James Motlow on the fascinating history of Locke; and of course, the Chinese Calligraphy Set.

Back at the Home Front, we removed the two blank soapstone Chops. The set didn’t come with instructions, so like all of our creative endeavors prior to the YouTube revolution, we rolled up our sleeves, pulled out the carving tools, and set to work.

“Hey, Kara! Why not carve our personal symbol, the Mayan Cimi glyph?” “What a coincidence,” said Kara. “That’s exactly what I was thinking! As you know, James, we adore the simplicity of the symbol and consequently, we use it wherever we can slide it into our lives.” And so, we both thought very highly of the idea.

If you think highly of the idea, here are some questions to ponder (or, you can just ask HAL, or just Google them):

1. Where can I get a Chop other than in Locke?
2. Can I make a Chop? Like, the whole thing? What materials could be used?
3. What tools could I use/buy/make to chop my Chop.
4. Can I copyright my Chop?
5. How can I use my Chop?
6. What is the history of the Chop?
7. And so on …