Whenever I’m asked where I’m from I hesitate, because in my case it isn’t exactly an easy question. I’m definitely American, and I’m also very definitely from Northern California. My mom family was from Northern California, and very strongly rooted in the community, and my dad has essentially adopted California has a home after growing up in Wisconsin (he has lived much longer in California).
In my case, I was born here, which means I should feel at home, and most of my life has been spent in California. I do think of California as home, but I also have another home.
I grew up in Indonesia, and spent a majority of my childhood living in the middle of the jungle. I was four years old when we arrived in Sumatra (my dad was an engineer for an oil company) and I started school in Indonesia. I was still there when I graduated from High School- I think I may be the only kid who started Kindergarten and graduated in my company camp, and also graduated from High school (my best friend missed out by one year, and spent more time there).
This brings me to Singapore. I consider your hometown as being the place where you went to high school. You go through so much maturing in high school, and high school is really where you come into your own being. For me that happened in Singapore, and as long as I live Singapore will always be home.
It was strange last year when I came back. It was the first time in 18 years that I had been back to Singapore (it was more than half of my life, but still significant). The ironic part is that Singapore had changed significantly in those 20 odd years, and I should not have recognized it as home. My former high school campus was now a small series of condos (that was hard to see), there were new homes built in place of my old home, the old shops we used to visit were gone. Virtually everything I remember had changed, and yet I felt like I was home. The whole time I was visiting Singapore wasn’t like seeing a foreign country, I was coming back home and I felt comfortable. Sure I felt sad the Metro (a shop) I remember had now changed, and the old mall was rebuilt. I couldn’t figure out where I was a few blocks from home, but it was home. It had changed, but it was still my home.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Day 14-My Dad
Of all the people who have been most influential and helpful in my life, my dad belongs on top of the list. Even though I always think as my mom as my number one hero, which I was definitely blessed, my dad was her hero. He also is responsible for my education and has financially supported me for nearly every endeavor I’ve ever had.
Growing up my dad was always an intimidating figure. I was definitely closer to my mother than my dad, but it was my dad who carried the rod. My dad was the leader of the family, and he made most of the choices (I think with my mom’s input).
In one of the more fortunate twist of fate, a few years before my mom died I was traveled back home with my dad. At the time we were living in Indonesia, and my mom had decided to stay in Illinois to help my brother settle in college (I think mostly for her benefit, as he really didn’t need her). That left my dad and I to travel from Illinois to Indonesia, through Sydney.
I was thirteen, and at the time I hadn’t really spent much time with just the two of us. If you ever really want to know somebody, spend a few days with them by yourselves. Up until that time I had always been intimidated by my dad, and felt like I was a disappointment. That was a memorable trip, because we began to connect, and I finally realized that my dad was not some nebulous authority figure. He was a real person, who cared about me, but also had the same faults that other people had (part of this is being 13, and noticing faults is a specialty).
That trip paid dividends later, when or security blanket was lost (my mom). Both my dad and I have thought about that trip, and how fortunate it was in hindsight. That trip opened up the communication channels that were vitally needed once my mom died, and we really did need each other.
Even with that trip, my dad never saw eye to eye. My dad is a very logical person, and doesn’t deal with emotions, or anything that resembles that aura. He is the very essence of an engineer, and thinks concretely. It isn’t that he is uncaring, in fact he is an extremely caring person, it is just that he shows his love in completely different ways than I do.
I always knew whenever I needed him, he would be there. When I was broke and needed money to pay off my college tuition, he paid. When I had my knee surgery, and was nervous, he was took the day off and drove to Fresno. And yet, he wasn’t the type of person who would ever say “I’m proud of you.”
I know that it sounds cliché, but it is something that I’ve longed for all of my life. I always felt that I hadn’t lived up to his expectations, and as a result, I’ve always pushed myself. As I got older I realized that seeking his approval was actually a healthy thing. As long as I had that drive for perfection, I would never settle for something less.
I still remember an event in which we were playing softball, and my friends and I weren’t as serious about it as we should have been. Dad was quietly disappointed, and later said “If you aren’t going to try, why are you even doing it?” It is something that stuck with me (kind of like The Ballad of Ricky Bobby).
Of course I’m sure dad never realized I made that connection by my actions. I dreaded every report card, because whenever I felt disappointed in my grades, I always knew dad was going to follow. Ironically, when I received an F in geometry, and was sure that my dad was going to kill me, he said, “Geometry is hard, and you have to be careful.”
So to make a long story somewhat shorter, this Christmas I received a present that was thirty-eight years in the making. We were at an event with some of his friends, some of whom hadn’t met me. He introduced me, and I politely shook hands and shared the obligatory information about home and job (name, rank and serial number). Next thing I knew, my dad interjected that I did something pretty special, I taught special ed in a middle school. He said with such pride, and was truly proud to share. It was a moment that passed without much fanfare, but was a culmination of a lifelong drive for his approval.
Growing up my dad was always an intimidating figure. I was definitely closer to my mother than my dad, but it was my dad who carried the rod. My dad was the leader of the family, and he made most of the choices (I think with my mom’s input).
In one of the more fortunate twist of fate, a few years before my mom died I was traveled back home with my dad. At the time we were living in Indonesia, and my mom had decided to stay in Illinois to help my brother settle in college (I think mostly for her benefit, as he really didn’t need her). That left my dad and I to travel from Illinois to Indonesia, through Sydney.
I was thirteen, and at the time I hadn’t really spent much time with just the two of us. If you ever really want to know somebody, spend a few days with them by yourselves. Up until that time I had always been intimidated by my dad, and felt like I was a disappointment. That was a memorable trip, because we began to connect, and I finally realized that my dad was not some nebulous authority figure. He was a real person, who cared about me, but also had the same faults that other people had (part of this is being 13, and noticing faults is a specialty).
That trip paid dividends later, when or security blanket was lost (my mom). Both my dad and I have thought about that trip, and how fortunate it was in hindsight. That trip opened up the communication channels that were vitally needed once my mom died, and we really did need each other.
Even with that trip, my dad never saw eye to eye. My dad is a very logical person, and doesn’t deal with emotions, or anything that resembles that aura. He is the very essence of an engineer, and thinks concretely. It isn’t that he is uncaring, in fact he is an extremely caring person, it is just that he shows his love in completely different ways than I do.
I always knew whenever I needed him, he would be there. When I was broke and needed money to pay off my college tuition, he paid. When I had my knee surgery, and was nervous, he was took the day off and drove to Fresno. And yet, he wasn’t the type of person who would ever say “I’m proud of you.”
I know that it sounds cliché, but it is something that I’ve longed for all of my life. I always felt that I hadn’t lived up to his expectations, and as a result, I’ve always pushed myself. As I got older I realized that seeking his approval was actually a healthy thing. As long as I had that drive for perfection, I would never settle for something less.
I still remember an event in which we were playing softball, and my friends and I weren’t as serious about it as we should have been. Dad was quietly disappointed, and later said “If you aren’t going to try, why are you even doing it?” It is something that stuck with me (kind of like The Ballad of Ricky Bobby).
Of course I’m sure dad never realized I made that connection by my actions. I dreaded every report card, because whenever I felt disappointed in my grades, I always knew dad was going to follow. Ironically, when I received an F in geometry, and was sure that my dad was going to kill me, he said, “Geometry is hard, and you have to be careful.”
So to make a long story somewhat shorter, this Christmas I received a present that was thirty-eight years in the making. We were at an event with some of his friends, some of whom hadn’t met me. He introduced me, and I politely shook hands and shared the obligatory information about home and job (name, rank and serial number). Next thing I knew, my dad interjected that I did something pretty special, I taught special ed in a middle school. He said with such pride, and was truly proud to share. It was a moment that passed without much fanfare, but was a culmination of a lifelong drive for his approval.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Day 12-Health
I want to thank GOD for my health. I realize that my health is something that can leave me at any moment, and health is fleeting. I’ve already experienced that when I went to an eye exam and found out that I had a blind spot, and was sent to an Ophthalmologist. I soon discover that I have glaucoma, and my eye sight is no longer guaranteed.
Even that was a blessing, because it would not have been caught through traditional methods. They usually test eye pressure, and if that is out of whack they send you to an ophthalmologist. I had normal eye pressure, but that was enough to cause nerve damage (glaucoma is essential nerve damage to the optic nerve). We caught it before it got too bad, which apparently was more severe than I first believed.
I had just come to grips with that, and I blood test revealed that I had a blood disorder (iron overload). Once again this actually was a fortunate thing, because if it had been allowed to go unchecked it could cause liver cancer, or senility (neither are good options).
The treatment for Iron Overload is bleeding. That summer I went to the doctor two days a week and a pint of blood was taken from me each time. Now that each treatment wasn’t so bad, but it wore on me as the summer wore on. Remember that every few days I had to drive to a doctor’s office so a nurse could stick a really large needle in my arm (which actually hurts).
I hated the treatments, but I also realized that I was lucky. I was at an Oncology clinic, which meant nearly everyone there was getting chemotherapy. As hard as it was for me, it was nothing like what they were going through.
Anyway, GOD has blessed me with good health, and I’m fortunate that I haven’t had any major problems. The problems that I’ve had are all caused by me (with the exception of glaucoma and iron overload, which are caused by my parents). I’ve had some knee injuries, and separated a shoulder. Those are sports injuries, and serve primarily to get me sympathy and stories.
Even with the glaucoma, I know that GOD has a purpose in it. I’m not sure what it is, but I know that there is always a good in challenges.
Even that was a blessing, because it would not have been caught through traditional methods. They usually test eye pressure, and if that is out of whack they send you to an ophthalmologist. I had normal eye pressure, but that was enough to cause nerve damage (glaucoma is essential nerve damage to the optic nerve). We caught it before it got too bad, which apparently was more severe than I first believed.
I had just come to grips with that, and I blood test revealed that I had a blood disorder (iron overload). Once again this actually was a fortunate thing, because if it had been allowed to go unchecked it could cause liver cancer, or senility (neither are good options).
The treatment for Iron Overload is bleeding. That summer I went to the doctor two days a week and a pint of blood was taken from me each time. Now that each treatment wasn’t so bad, but it wore on me as the summer wore on. Remember that every few days I had to drive to a doctor’s office so a nurse could stick a really large needle in my arm (which actually hurts).
I hated the treatments, but I also realized that I was lucky. I was at an Oncology clinic, which meant nearly everyone there was getting chemotherapy. As hard as it was for me, it was nothing like what they were going through.
Anyway, GOD has blessed me with good health, and I’m fortunate that I haven’t had any major problems. The problems that I’ve had are all caused by me (with the exception of glaucoma and iron overload, which are caused by my parents). I’ve had some knee injuries, and separated a shoulder. Those are sports injuries, and serve primarily to get me sympathy and stories.
Even with the glaucoma, I know that GOD has a purpose in it. I’m not sure what it is, but I know that there is always a good in challenges.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Day 11-My Brother
I know that I’ve already counted my family as a blessing, and also my mom, but my brother is another person who I owe a lot to.
Of all the people in my life, it has been my brother who has always been there for me. Regardless of what I’ve done, or what I haven’t done, my brother has always been the man who catches me and watches.
I think one of the best examples of what my brother does is what happened at the most difficult moment in our lives. That was the very moment that I looked at my mom and realized that she was going to die. At that moment I had to come to grips with losing my mother and all what that meant. In the mean time my dad was coming to grips with losing his soul mate.
My very first thought the moment I looked at my mom struggling to breathe was, “Oh my GOD. My mom is going to die right in front of me.” I couldn’t be there for that moment and had to leave the ICU. I walked out and tried to punch the wall with my fist. My brother watched me and immediately caught my fist, keeping me from breaking my hand.
After that we meet as a family, each of us going through our own battles. I couldn’t be in the room to watch my mom die, and my dad couldn’t be away from his wife until the doctors told him to leave. To this day I have no idea where my brother wanted to be, but I know he stayed with me.
Then there was the time that I was fired from a job, and went through an emotional crisis. Thru it all, he supported me, and waited patiently for me to get back on my feet (I took my time). We had moved in together, sharing the rent, but while I was unemployed with no real prospects he covered my rent.
A few years later I had just finished my credential program. I went to bank and saw I had $7.12 in my account, and would receive a small paycheck in two weeks. My main source of money was substitute teaching, and I wouldn’t receive anything substantial until Halloween (it was just after Labor Day). I looked at him and said “You’re paying for everything.” He did it without complaint, and didn’t ask for anything in return.
Now it may sound like he was a private welfare system for me and the only thing I have to be thankful is my brother financially supporting me in times of need, but that isn’t the case. We have been each other’s best friends. From the time that we were kids, and he and I would pretend to be various pro athletes playing Wiffle ball in the backyard, to now when we play golf together and he thrills in one time out of 10 that he beats me (Ok, I enjoy his joy as well).
And then there is the fact that neither one of us has meet someone to love. We aren’t gay, but for some reason we haven’t been able to meet that one significant person. If it weren’t for my brother, I would be incredibly lonely, but I’ve always had him. On Saturday’s I know that we can plan our day, and know that we will be able to ride a bike, play golf, or go to a game. There is something to be said about someone who is always there for you.
Of all the people in my life, it has been my brother who has always been there for me. Regardless of what I’ve done, or what I haven’t done, my brother has always been the man who catches me and watches.
I think one of the best examples of what my brother does is what happened at the most difficult moment in our lives. That was the very moment that I looked at my mom and realized that she was going to die. At that moment I had to come to grips with losing my mother and all what that meant. In the mean time my dad was coming to grips with losing his soul mate.
My very first thought the moment I looked at my mom struggling to breathe was, “Oh my GOD. My mom is going to die right in front of me.” I couldn’t be there for that moment and had to leave the ICU. I walked out and tried to punch the wall with my fist. My brother watched me and immediately caught my fist, keeping me from breaking my hand.
After that we meet as a family, each of us going through our own battles. I couldn’t be in the room to watch my mom die, and my dad couldn’t be away from his wife until the doctors told him to leave. To this day I have no idea where my brother wanted to be, but I know he stayed with me.
Then there was the time that I was fired from a job, and went through an emotional crisis. Thru it all, he supported me, and waited patiently for me to get back on my feet (I took my time). We had moved in together, sharing the rent, but while I was unemployed with no real prospects he covered my rent.
A few years later I had just finished my credential program. I went to bank and saw I had $7.12 in my account, and would receive a small paycheck in two weeks. My main source of money was substitute teaching, and I wouldn’t receive anything substantial until Halloween (it was just after Labor Day). I looked at him and said “You’re paying for everything.” He did it without complaint, and didn’t ask for anything in return.
Now it may sound like he was a private welfare system for me and the only thing I have to be thankful is my brother financially supporting me in times of need, but that isn’t the case. We have been each other’s best friends. From the time that we were kids, and he and I would pretend to be various pro athletes playing Wiffle ball in the backyard, to now when we play golf together and he thrills in one time out of 10 that he beats me (Ok, I enjoy his joy as well).
And then there is the fact that neither one of us has meet someone to love. We aren’t gay, but for some reason we haven’t been able to meet that one significant person. If it weren’t for my brother, I would be incredibly lonely, but I’ve always had him. On Saturday’s I know that we can plan our day, and know that we will be able to ride a bike, play golf, or go to a game. There is something to be said about someone who is always there for you.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Day 9-Weekends
I want to thank GOD for giving us weekends.
It’s not that I don’t like my job, and the only thing I have is the weekends.
In the one job I had that was absolutely miserable, I basically lived for the weekends. I had this feeling of dread each Sunday night, knowing that I was going to have to spend the next five days going through hell.
However, even when I have a job that I enjoy and I care deeply about, I know exactly when Friday comes. I count off full weeks, which are exhausting, and know that I can sleep in on Saturday.
The funny thing is that I rarely sleep well. I sleep much better on weeknights, but sleeping in is one of the key things on a weekend- I wake up Thursday morning and knowing that I only have one more morning to wake up.
I guess it is because we need two things: Rest and fun. Rest is an incredibly important thing to get, especially when your job has a lot of passion. When you give everything you’ve got for five days (which isn’t true, because there is always something in reserve) the weekends are great just for you, your partner, or your family.
The other reason is fun, which I believe is extremely important. Fun is what gives me energy, and makes it possible for me to be the man that GOD wants me to be. Take this weekend: This happened to be a three-day weekend, and a dear friend that I hadn’t seen for seven years had come back to the Bay Area. I got to spend two full days with him, doing the very thing we do most when we are together: Play Golf. The interesting thing is that is wasn’t the golf, which was poor at best (I now have a busted golf bag in one of my less glorious moments after a particularly poor shot), or that we had weather that was absolutely perfect (not to brag, but when it’s good here, it’s really good).
The best part was the talking. I picked him up and drove him to the golf course both times, and spent nearly an hour in the car with him both ways. I had another three hours after the round eating food with him, and then there were the two rounds that lasted more than nine hours together (closer to ten). GOD gives us time for ourselves on the weekend, and with that time we get to love the world he created with us.
It’s not that I don’t like my job, and the only thing I have is the weekends.
In the one job I had that was absolutely miserable, I basically lived for the weekends. I had this feeling of dread each Sunday night, knowing that I was going to have to spend the next five days going through hell.
However, even when I have a job that I enjoy and I care deeply about, I know exactly when Friday comes. I count off full weeks, which are exhausting, and know that I can sleep in on Saturday.
The funny thing is that I rarely sleep well. I sleep much better on weeknights, but sleeping in is one of the key things on a weekend- I wake up Thursday morning and knowing that I only have one more morning to wake up.
I guess it is because we need two things: Rest and fun. Rest is an incredibly important thing to get, especially when your job has a lot of passion. When you give everything you’ve got for five days (which isn’t true, because there is always something in reserve) the weekends are great just for you, your partner, or your family.
The other reason is fun, which I believe is extremely important. Fun is what gives me energy, and makes it possible for me to be the man that GOD wants me to be. Take this weekend: This happened to be a three-day weekend, and a dear friend that I hadn’t seen for seven years had come back to the Bay Area. I got to spend two full days with him, doing the very thing we do most when we are together: Play Golf. The interesting thing is that is wasn’t the golf, which was poor at best (I now have a busted golf bag in one of my less glorious moments after a particularly poor shot), or that we had weather that was absolutely perfect (not to brag, but when it’s good here, it’s really good).
The best part was the talking. I picked him up and drove him to the golf course both times, and spent nearly an hour in the car with him both ways. I had another three hours after the round eating food with him, and then there were the two rounds that lasted more than nine hours together (closer to ten). GOD gives us time for ourselves on the weekend, and with that time we get to love the world he created with us.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Day 7- Today
Well, this is one day I just want to thank GOD for. I’m not sure what heaven will be like, but I guess it will be a lot like today.
Let me start by describing my day. First of all the weather was one of those really awful California spring days. It was almost 70° and there were nearly 5 clouds in the sky that just ruined the whole day, with the wind blowing at an unbearable 5 miles per hour. So on a day that GOD made just for me I was set for one of those days that I will always remember.
You see this is a day that I got to play golf with a close friend who I haven’t seen for nearly six years. What was amazing through the whole thing is that it was like we were never separated. We started right back to where we were, and I realized what made us become friends.
Let me start by describing my day. First of all the weather was one of those really awful California spring days. It was almost 70° and there were nearly 5 clouds in the sky that just ruined the whole day, with the wind blowing at an unbearable 5 miles per hour. So on a day that GOD made just for me I was set for one of those days that I will always remember.
You see this is a day that I got to play golf with a close friend who I haven’t seen for nearly six years. What was amazing through the whole thing is that it was like we were never separated. We started right back to where we were, and I realized what made us become friends.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Day 5- Golf
Ok, this one might sound a little ironic. It could be that it is currently 8:30 at night on the second night of working till 6pm again, and I’m not thinking clearly.
But this is a serious blessing. Golf has been a strong blessing (I’ll leave the Football blessing for later) for me. The main reason that Golf has been a blessing is that it is fun, which in itself needs no defending. GOD gave us fun for a very good reason: he loves us.
Now for some people the concept of golf being fun makes no sense, but golf can really be fun. There is something enjoyable about trying to chase a little white ball into a small hole 400 yards away, and thinking that taking 5 shots to do that isn’t good enough (actually reminds me about how some government people feel about standards test).
The weather is nice, I’ve met some great people, and played on some of the most beautiful places around. Just ask anybody who has ever been to number 7 at Pebble Beach and think that GOD doesn’t like golf. Personally I think that GOD meant to put a golf hole there.
Golf has also taught me so much patience and humility. There is something beautiful about a game that just when you think you may know how to play this game, and then the next moment you see your ball slicing toward the water and a double bogey in your sites. And then there is the fact that missing the three foot part can mean so much at the moment, but a few minutes later you’re drinking a beer and nobody cares.
Golf is a great game, and I want to thank GOD for it.
But this is a serious blessing. Golf has been a strong blessing (I’ll leave the Football blessing for later) for me. The main reason that Golf has been a blessing is that it is fun, which in itself needs no defending. GOD gave us fun for a very good reason: he loves us.
Now for some people the concept of golf being fun makes no sense, but golf can really be fun. There is something enjoyable about trying to chase a little white ball into a small hole 400 yards away, and thinking that taking 5 shots to do that isn’t good enough (actually reminds me about how some government people feel about standards test).
The weather is nice, I’ve met some great people, and played on some of the most beautiful places around. Just ask anybody who has ever been to number 7 at Pebble Beach and think that GOD doesn’t like golf. Personally I think that GOD meant to put a golf hole there.
Golf has also taught me so much patience and humility. There is something beautiful about a game that just when you think you may know how to play this game, and then the next moment you see your ball slicing toward the water and a double bogey in your sites. And then there is the fact that missing the three foot part can mean so much at the moment, but a few minutes later you’re drinking a beer and nobody cares.
Golf is a great game, and I want to thank GOD for it.
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