Wednesday, January 25, 2023

Ah, the Joys of Homework!

I wrote this March 19, 1995 as part of an assignment in high school. I didn't always enjoy doing homework, but when I did, it looked something like this. Mrs. Best was my English teacher (mentioned in the poem). The French lines say, "Mrs. Best is funny, isn't she? / Homework."


Photo by motortion/Adobe Stock


Homework.
It is a compound word
Homework.
Is it absurd?
Homework.
Maybe absurd, but it is important.
Homework.
Its synonym is stress.
Homework.
Sometimes it is fun.
Homework.
Sometimes it is not.
Homework.
When will it be done?
Homework.
Am I having fun yet?
Homework.
Hey, this is neat.
Homework.
Wow!
Homework.
What is the square root of 6, divided by 35 to the eighteenth power, times the cosine of nine?
Homework.
Who was America’s fifteenth president?
Homework.
Spelled H-O-M-E-W-O-R-K
Homework.
This poem is homework
Homework.
Computers are awesome!
Homework.
Mme Best est drôle, n’est-ce pas?
Les devoirs.

What a blast!
Homework.
What?
Did you say vacation is next week?
Vacation?
Yea! No homework next week!
But after vacation,
Homework.
AH, THE JOYS OF . . .
Homework.

Tuesday, January 24, 2023

A Lesson in Kindness

1995. The combined youth groups from several churches in the Seattle area took the train from Seattle to San Diego, spent the night in Chula Vista, California, and then continued south to Tijuana, Mexico, where we worked with communities in the area. We were working with an organization called YUGO (Youth Unlimited Gospel Outreach), which facilitates youth missions trips in Mexico, both to serve the communities in that area and to equip American youth for ministry. It was an amazing week. After that week was done, we headed north a bit to unwind at Disneyland. I spent the day with my friend Dan, and we had a blast.

Photo taken at California Adventure
20 years later, in 2015

That evening, we had just left the park when we met a man from a local Baptist church, who was raising funds for his church's women's ministry. As we felt that was a good cause, we both contributed. The gentleman commented that this was (understandably) very awkward for him, and he had gone out searching for two reasons: His wife had convinced him, and he felt God's leading that there was something important that he needed to do. I believe we found out what that was.

Dan and I continued on toward the hotel. As it was late and we hadn't eaten, but most restaurants were closed at that time, we stopped at the local 7-Eleven to get something to eat. As we were leaving, a homeless man stopped us and asked for money for food. This was a bit more of a quandary for us. I grew up in the Philippines, where many of the beggars are in syndicates where they have to take their collections back to someone in charge, so giving money doesn't help (or anyway, that's how it was in the 80s). In the Philippines, we learned to give them food instead (we kept some in the car for that purpose). There are also a lot of homeless in Seattle. I have never quite known how to help, as I don't know what they will do with the money if I give it to them. At times it has been very clear to me that they were not intending to use it for the stated purpose. Other times it has been less clear. Sometimes I do give them money. But they very clearly need help. Dan and I were not sure what to do, and as we were trying to figure it out, the gentleman we had met earlier found us. He joined the conversation. Obviously he wasn't about to ask the homeless man to contribute, but he could also see our situation. That man then did something I will never forget, and which I believe was the reason he felt God's prodding to go out in the middle of the night. He told the homeless man, "I can't give you money, but I can take you in to get some food." He then took the man in to 7-Eleven, where he got him something to eat. Dan and I returned to the hotel, thankful and having learned an important lesson.

A couple years later, I was in downtown Seattle, where a man along the side of the road stopped me and asked for some money for food. I thought back to the lesson I had learned in Anaheim, and I asked him what he would like to eat. I went to a nearby convenience store that had some fried chicken (his request), and I selected the biggest piece I could see, and brought it out to him.

Monday, January 23, 2023

An Understatement

I wrote this poem February 10, 2007 in response to a sermon by our pastor on God's holiness, from 1 Peter 1.

NASA/Hubble

Awesome
Amazing
Wondrous
Wonderful
Powerful
Terrifying

They don’t even come close!

Loving
Caring
Dazzling
Holy
Wise
Just
Merciful

Our words hardly scratch the surface
of what God is.

What words can describe
God’s wondrous love for us?
How can we begin to express
His awesome holiness?

No words can adequately tell
His amazing care and mercy
That an omnipotent God would deign
To save a poor lowly sinner like me!

His power knows no bounds
Yet His love has no end
His holiness goes beyond anything
That I could even begin to imagine!
His wisdom is so much greater
Than man’s most brilliant breakthroughs
His justice fairer and more terrifying than any can fathom
His mercy and peace far beyond than all comprehension

I can do nothing before such a wonderful, terrible, awesome God
But fall down at His feet
And cry “Holy! Holy! Holy!”

His brilliance goes beyond
All the blinding starry host
Who am I that the dazzling God of the universe
Would gaze at the darkness of my soul
And shine His radiant light of forgiveness
On my unworthy blackened heart?

All of my days I will praise His wonderful name.
As the moon shines the light of the sun,
O holy God,
May my life shine Your love and holiness
On a world in need of Your grace!

Sunday, January 22, 2023

Meeting a Legend

Her story is inspirational. She aspired to be an airline captain from a young age, at a time when that was an occupation reserved for men. She pursued her dream, rising from pilot to flight engineer, and eventually became American Airlines' first female captain in 1986. On September 11, 2001, she was flying from Paris to Dallas when she heard on the air-to-air frequency that the Twin Towers had been hit, and New York airspace was closed, followed shortly thereafter with airspace across the country. She was ordered to land in Gander, Newfoundland, where she experienced hospitality that amazed her. Her story is told in the musical Come from Away, and I interviewed her over the internet in 2018 for a blog post for All Things Broadway. In later blog posts (here and here), I told about when the national tour opened in Seattle and I got to meet several people whose stories were included in the musical. Kevin Tuerff invited me to attend an exclusive viewing of the documentary You Are Here: A Come From Away Story, where I met him, Nick and Diane Marson, Beulah Cooper, Bonnie Harris, Kevin Jung, Oz Fudge and others. Though she couldn't make it to the viewing, I met Diane Davis a couple weeks later after attending the musical for the third time. What I did not mention in those blog posts, because it hadn't happened yet, was meeting Beverley Bass. She also couldn't make it to the viewing for the documentary because she had needed to leave earlier in the day.

In 2019, Captain Beverley Bass released her children's book Me and the Sky. I promptly ordered it on Amazon. I also found out she was coming to Seattle! Since I had interviewed her previously and greatly admired her, I sent her a message to see if I could meet her. We arranged an appointment to meet at her hotel near Boeing Field in South Seattle. As I had ordered her book online, I was a little worried it wouldn't arrive on time, but it arrived the day of the appointment, before I left! I had also recently obtained the companion book to the musical, Come from Away: Welcome to the Rock: An Inside Look at the Hit Musical, which had also just come out. With both books, I made the trek south to meet one of my heroes!


We met in the lobby and she gave me a big hug. We went to the hotel café, where she bought me coffee (she rocks!), and we talked. I don't recall a lot about the conversation (I didn't take notes, as it wasn't an interview :-) ), but the meeting was very memorable. She hadn't seen the companion book yet, so she excitedly leafed through my copy. Neither of us had a Sharpie handy, so she borrowed one from the hotel and signed both books. (Unfortunately, I'm not sure why, but the ink faded quickly. Does anyone know if it's possible to restore faded Sharpie ink?)

It was a day I will never forget, when I met a legend who made history. I felt honored that she took time to hug, to talk with me, and even buy me coffee!

Saturday, January 21, 2023

Walking with Grandpa

I wrote this poem in November 2005 in honor of my grandpa's 90th birthday a couple months earlier. As we lost him nearly ten years later, I added a verse today, and also changed the fourth verse from the present tense to the past tense.

Early 80s

Grandpa was a prolific walker. He walked daily, and it was partly due to that practice that he lived so long, nearly making it to 100 (only four months short of it). He challenged us to do the same, and he typed up his walking philosophy for us. I have been working on doing that more lately.

Grandpa's Walking Philosophy

Some of my best memories of Grandpa were walking and running with him. When they visited us in the Philippines in the early 80s, he and I walked from our house to our school. It wasn't all that far, but it was a fair distance, part of that uphill. It's one of my earliest memories. A few years later, we were back in the US and he, my dad, my brother and I went to see the Seattle Sonics play the Golden State Warriors in Seattle. During the game it started pouring, and when it got out, we had to run through it to the car! We were soaked to the bone. In 1994, we went as a family to Hong Kong to teach English to students preparing for a major exam. When we were all together walking through the streets of Kowloon, the rest of us practically had to run to keep up with him, as he was a very fast walker!

He was a World War 2 veteran, and he raised a family of five children on a very tight budget. He pastored at multiple churches, and his legacy lives on around the world. He was my hero.


On we walked
My grandpa and me
Under the brilliant Philippine sun
We were walking to school
An excited little boy and his loving grandfather

On we ran
My grandpa, dad, brother and me
Under an unusually strong Seattle rain
Down the sidewalk from the basketball arena
We piled into the car, soaked.

On Grandpa walked
As we tried to keep up
Through the busy streets of Hong Kong
Grandpa at his normal walking pace
And us younger folks nearly running

On Grandpa walked
Around the block, around the mall, and through life
Leading the way, shining his light
A brilliant example of a life well lived
For his children and for God

On Grandpa dances
On the brilliant streets of gold
In the arms of his beautiful bride and his glorious Savior
His race has been run and he has heard "Well done!"
A hero for the ages


Christmas 2014
Grandpa's 100th and last Christmas
He would graduate to heaven the following May

My college graduation, 2000


Friday, January 20, 2023

The Purple Lady

It was 1986. We were living in the Seattle area at the time, and a travel group my grandparents were involved with did a trip up north to Vancouver, BC, Canada, to attend Expo '86. Seattle held the World's Fair in 1962 (before my time), and we have the Space Needle as a memory of it. Now it was Vancouver's turn. Being that I was 8 at the time (I turned 9 later that year), I only have a few memories of it. One was the sculpture of cars in the sidewalk. Another was when my glasses fell off and shattered. (Thankfully, I had a spare pair back at the hotel!) They had pavilions (the fair, not my glasses). There was a building shaped like a globe (which is still there, picture at the bottom of this post). 

Another memory I have is The Purple Lady.

As I remember it, we encountered her in the crowd. She was dressed entirely in purple. She had a purple purse and purple hair. I seem to recall her wearing a purple hat as well. As we were right next to each other, we got talking. She was very friendly. I don't remember the specifics of our conversation, though I do remember discussing the plethora of purple (even if I don't think I knew the word "plethora" at the time). She gave me a purple business card with her name and the title "The Purple Lady." (I had the card for years, but don't know where it is now, or if I still have it.) I love how she marched to the beat of her own drum. She stood out from the crowd, and she didn't care. That child-like attitude still inspires me.

A few minutes ago, in preparation for writing this blog, I googled "Purple Lady" and discovered some videos about one! She is around 80 now, which would have put her in her early 40s in 1986... I seem to recall the Purple Lady I met looking like she was in her 70s at the time, but as I was 8, my perception may have been a bit off. I don't know if this is the same Purple Lady, but Sandra Ramos lives in a purple hut in New Jersey, with a purple car, a purple bike, and just about everything else in purple. That's a long way from Vancouver, of course, but as it was the World's Fair (opened by Prince Charles and Princess Diana), there were visitors from all over the world. Maybe? Over the past decades, she has been an activist for battered women and homelessness, advocating for peace, and more, and is also very in tune with nature and making the world a better place. I think there's a lot we can learn from her (possibly two women, but maybe the same person) about going through life with a child-like (which is very different from childish) and purposeful attitude, with a determination to better everyone and everything around us.

Following are a couple videos about Sandra Ramos, The Purple Lady, one from four years ago, and the other from last year:



Expo '86
Science World/Getty Images

Thursday, January 19, 2023

The Carabao and the Storm

...or "Steven Channels His Inner Aesop"... I wrote the following poem March 29, 1995 as part of an assignment in a high school English class. This part of the assignment was to write a poetic fable. 

A carabao, also known as a water buffalo, is a bovine that is used in several Southeast Asian cultures to assist in planting rice and other farming tasks, similar to an ox in other cultures. It is pronounced "care a bow" and rhymes with cow. They are are a common sight in the Philippines, and I remember going to sleep at times to the dulcet tones of local carabao and cats having spirited conversations. ("Moooooo!" "MEOW!" "Mooooo!" "MEOW!!" They were clearly conversations, as they alternated, and I never heard them speaking at the same time.)


Philippine Carabao
Photo by Cabajar
CC BY-SA 3.0 license



Off in the distance...
Ru-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-mbl-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-e!
Thunder!
Everybody ran
Away from the flooded rice paddies
Except for one carabao
Who said, "Silly carabaos!
What chickens!
I’m staying here!
There’s work to do!
My master will be proud of me!
But who will reward those cowardly carabao?
Not me, I’m brave!
Why, I’m the bravest carabao of the lot!
Aren’t I grea----"
ZAP!
RU-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-MBL-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-E!

Next morning, all of the carabaos returned
To find a dead carabao
Lying in the slop.

Moral:
"Pride goes before destruction,
     a haughty spirit before a fall." (Proverbs 16:18)

Wednesday, January 18, 2023

The Queen of 44th

She was known as the Queen of 44th. She had lived near the corner of 44th and 212th, on the border of Lynnwood and Mountlake Terrace, Washington, for years. I don't know a lot about her. I don't even recall her name. But what I do know is simple and profound.

Every morning, she sat in her wheelchair in front of her house, waving to passersby on the busy 44th Avenue West with a smile. When I walked by on her side of the street, she talked to me and always brightened my day. Sometimes even when I was walking on the other side, she would call to me and wave. Articles in the local newspaper reported that firefighters and other workers in stressful occupations looked forward to passing her house, because she was always there with a smile and a wave. She had a way of making tensions melt away in the simplest of ways!

Photo by De Visu/Adobe Stock
(I don't have a picture of the Queen of 44th,
so a stock photo it is!)

As the community continued to grow, developers wanted to buy her property to make way for retail space. But she refused. So while the houses around her disappeared to make way for Albertson's, Blockbuster, Little Caesar's, and other stores and restaurants, her house stayed there and she continued to wave to everyone around. As her mobility was declining, the community came together to replace the steps leading up to her door with a wheelchair ramp.

She was one of the most beloved people in the community.

Over the years, there has been a lot of change. Albertson's is now Safeway. Blockbuster is now O'Reilly Auto Parts. Her house is now an empty lot. But that stretch of sidewalk and that lot where a house once stood with a kind old woman in a wheelchair remains, a memory of a time gone by and someone who taught me the deep, profound value of a simple smile and wave. Kind deeds can be complicated, but they don't need to be. Sometimes all a person needs to brighten their day is a kind smile, a wave, a friendly greeting.

Considering how much time has passed since then, I'm sure she has passed on by now. I'm not sure what happened to her when she no longer sat along 44th and brightened everyone's day. But she left a profound legacy, even to a teenager who hardly knew her, and now thinks back more than 20 years later to remember. 

Tuesday, January 17, 2023

I Should Go Back to the Sea

The beaches and coral reefs in the Philippines are breathtaking. With so many islands, if we reached a beach that had anyone on it, we could just take our bangka (rowboat with pontoons) to the next island, where the beach may be deserted. Snorkeling is amazing. They also have glass-bottom boats where you can look through the glass floor of the boats to see the beauty below. The coral, fish, and other sea life present a spectacular kaleidoscope of color. The country has around 7100 islands. As some of them are tiny, the number varies depending on the tide. (I'm not sure where exactly the below picture was taken, but it's similar to what you can see snorkeling in the Philippines.)

I wrote the following poem for an assignment in 6th grade, in 1989 or 1990. I put it on a big sheet of paper and drew sea life around it.

Underwater World
Photo by Fascinating Universe
CC BY-SA 3.0 license

I should go back to the sea, the empty, rippling sea
I should go swimming in it, the mighty wet sea
Where all the seahorses reign, the urchins and squid and octopi
All the cute little fishes and the not-so-cute sharks.

I should go back to the sea, the world of plants in the sea
I should go swimming in it, the wonderful "land" of the sea
Where the seaweed sways, the sponges and algae and anemones
All the tiny diatoms and the not-so-tiny kelp.

I should go back to the sea, the full wavy sea
I should go swimming in it, the wonderful "land" of the sea
Where the seahorses reign, the sponges and squid and anemones
All the tiny diatoms and the not-so-tiny sharks
I should go back to the sea.

Monday, January 16, 2023

Fighting Racism

My job that I have had for the past 5+ years has taught me a lot. I feel I grew professionally, but I also learned lessons that I hadn't expected. One of those involves racism in America. Prior to that, I looked at all the laws in place and the way minorities are a much more integral and important part of our society, and I thought that meant Dr. King's dream had been fulfilled. I had no idea how far we are from realizing it.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Steven Sauke, 2013
Adobe Illustrator

Growing up as a racial minority in the Philippines, I experienced racism as a child. The most dramatic that I remember was in periods of unrest when we had to stay indoors because it was too dangerous to go out due to the color of our skin. There were reports of white people being shot when they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We even found a bullet hole in our roof once, when the rainy season started and the ceiling above my bed sprang a leak. There were also more innocuous experiences, such as strangers coming up to me and pinching my white cheeks, saying, "Cuuuute!" That made me very uncomfortable. They associated Americans (anyone with white skin) with GI Joe, and people would often call, "Hi, Joe!" as we passed on the street. I just took that as them trying to be friendly. People would also stare at us, and sometimes point and say to each other, "Amerikano!" So coming back to the US, I thought I understood racism, and was thankful to be in a country that (I thought) had gotten past that. At times I even thought people had overcompensated and started discriminating against white people here. While that does happen sometimes, I have learned it isn't nearly the problem I thought it was, and I was looking through the lens of white privilege, which I didn't even think was a thing at the time. I heard of riots and protests related to racism, and was disgusted at the destruction and what my white privilege perceived as overreactions and entitlement. While I do not condone destruction and violence (and neither did Dr. King), I have learned that a lot of their anger is justified. As Dr. King once said when pressed to condemn riots, "A riot is the language of the unheard." To put that in context, this is an excerpt from his speech The Other America (1967):

But at the same time, it is as necessary for me to be as vigorous in condemning the conditions which cause persons to feel that they must engage in riotous activities as it is for me to condemn riots. I think America must see that riots do not develop out of thin air. Certain conditions continue to exist in our society which must be condemned as vigorously as we condemn riots. But in the final analysis, a riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it that America has failed to hear? It has failed to hear that the plight of the Negro poor has worsened over the last few years. It has failed to hear that the promises of freedom and justice have not been met. And it has failed to hear that large segments of white society are more concerned about tranquility and the status quo than about justice, equality, and humanity. And so in a real sense our nation's summers of riots are caused by our nation's winters of delay. And as long as America postpones justice, we stand in the position of having these recurrences of violence and riots over and over again. Social justice and progress are the absolute guarantors of riot prevention.

One thing I have believed for years, and now believe more than ever, is that we need to listen to people from other backgrounds and other perspectives. We need to heed what they say. We need to extend respect that we have far too often withheld. I don't pretend to have reached the pinnacle of anti-racism, and I still struggle with racist thoughts at times, which I have to fight.

Working with an amazing and racially-diverse team has taught me a lot. But one thing in particular has come from watching my incredible manager, one of the kindest and most professional people I have met, go through blow after blow after blow. She has lost multiple relatives and friends just in the years I've known her, to shootings. She has endured unimaginable pain and loss, and managed to maintain her positivity and dignity through all of it. I can't express enough how much I admire her. Other coworkers have gone through similar pain and loss. This has opened my eyes to the fact that we have a long way to go in fighting racism in this country. 

Having experienced racism in the Philippines has taught me a lot, and I feel helps me to identify more with minorities here, but it is nothing compared to the horrifying tribulations they have experienced. Nobody deserves that. A year or two ago, I had a white person, a friend of a friend, try to convince me that the term "white privilege" is itself a racist slur (something I once believed myself), and she refused to truly listen as several people tried to explain that it is a statement of fact, not a slam against white people. We don't generally experience what people of other races have gone through in this country, even in recent years. We aren't usually targeted due to the color of our skin here. To say that a group of people has privilege is, in itself, neither a slam nor a compliment. It's just a statement of fact. It's what we do with that privilege that can become a problem. It's when we decide to apply a different standard to someone with a different color of skin, or start thinking of them as less.

One thing that has spoken volumes to me is the end of Martin Luther King's I've Been to the Mountaintop speech. I have trouble reading it aloud without tearing up. (I encourage you to read the entire speech by clicking on the link in this paragraph. It's powerful.)

Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!

And so I'm happy, tonight.

I'm not worried about anything.

I'm not fearing any man!

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!!

Dr. King delivered that speech April 3, 1968. He was assassinated April 4, 1968, the following day. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is one of my heroes. I once thought his dream had been realized, but I now realize we have a long way to go. We need to listen to each other. We need to extend to everyone the same respect we would to anyone else, no matter the color of their skin, their religion, or anything else. Everyone needs love, care and respect. Think how many riots and other unrest we could prevent if we could just listen to voices like Dr. King and others!