Friday, August 31, 2007

this-able

David and I met over 10 years ago when we were two struggling students attending community college. He had transferred from another junior college after failing there miserably, and I had dropped out of my senior year of high school two years earlier. I was entering my third year of college with nothing to show for. I routinely withdrew from courses in order to avoid receiving permanent F’s on my record. We were hoping that a change of environment and the prospect of a new year would provide us a fresh start.

David once mentioned to me that he had difficulty learning in school, but I did not know the extent of his learning disability at the time. Many years later I learned that he has an auditory processing problem that made it challenging for him to comprehend a lecture and write down notes at the same time. People with this condition commonly have difficulty identifying the speaker or relevant message in the presence of background distraction. They often do not recognize subtle differences between sounds in words, even though the sounds themselves are loud and clear. For example, if I were to ask a person with auditory processing problem to “Tell me how a couch and a chair are alike”, he or she may understand it to say, “Tell me how a cow and a hair are alike”. Because they have difficulty carrying out multi-step directions given orally, they appear to have poor listening skills to an untrained observer. Part of the reason I and many other people were not keenly aware of his condition was that David never openly used it as an excuse or a crutch for what he could not do. Instead, he focused on what he can do.

Whenever confronted with a problem, there are only so many ways to deal with it. You could decide to turn around and give up or you could think of ways to run through it, around it, under it, or over it. You could say that he did a little bit of everything but walking away. He enrolled himself into a program that taught him how to use various strategies to cope and learn more effectively. He searched for mentors who offered him guidance and words of encouragement. He also did it by sheer will and determination. David and I were enrolled in the same math class, and we regularly studied together. What I remember most about my experience is that he never gave up on solving a problem that he did not immediately understand. If he did not succeed in his first attempt, he would try to see the problem from a different angle. If that didn't work, he would try it another way. David also had the courage to admit what he doesn't know. He was that one student who asked the questions that the rest of class was too embarrassed to ask for fear of appearing dumb.

It has been a long road for both of us. With a lot of struggle and hard work, we are humbled by the fact that we were the first in our families to earn a college degree. As for me... not bad for a kid who was once told by a college academic counselor of all people that "Some people are meant for school and others are meant to become a trash man." I am pursuing my Master's degree and multiple-subjects credential, and I hope to be teaching somewhere next year. As for David, he continues to be an inspiration for many others. For the past eight years, he worked as an academic counselor at a public high school in the Bay area. He went back to school two years ago and earned his single-subject credential in Social Studies. His goal is to teach at a local continuation school where he can impart his knowledge and experience to guide students in the right direction. His students are going to be very lucky to have a teacher like him. He demonstrates by living example how far a person can reach if they have the desire and the determination to overcome their challenge.

Thank you, Dave, for allowing me to share your story.

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Thursday, August 30, 2007

In Search of a Miracle

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Guts

"I wanted you to see what real courage is. Instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand, it's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway, and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do."

-Atticus, To Kill a Mockingbird

Sometimes we think there is nothing left in us.
But we always do.
If we really dig down deep,
We would discover a reserve
waiting to be tapped.
We have more strength, more resilience, more clarity, more joy, and more capacity for love and forgiveness than we may readily acknowledge.
When we do, we will discover that what we possess beneath is far greater in magnitude than any circumstance that may confront us.

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Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Between the Numbers


"When someone dies, we list the year he was born, the year he died, and a hyphen between the two random numbers. It is not important when a person is born nor when he dies but the years he spent living and the lives he has touched. It is the little dash in between the two numbers that ultimately matters."

Wilma "Billie" Stone sits at the edge of her husband's, Jesse, bed as she reflects on the past 63 years together during a visit at the VA hospital in Martinez ,Calif. on Friday, January 26, 2001. Mr. Stone has suffered from progressive Super-nuclear Parsy. (Tue Nam Ton/Contra Costa Times)

(Thank you, Tue Nam, for your poignant photo and eloquent words. And thanks for your friendship in making the space between my numbers more meaningful.)

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Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Late for the Gravy Train

When I walk the streets of L.A., I am constantly reminded of how precarious life can be. I have a car, a good job, and a warm bed to sleep in at night. Breaking the illusion of comfort and security is the realization that I could lose everything in an instant. I could be a serious accident, long-term illness or unemployment away from being on the street, have I not been blessed with a close family and friends who would catch me from falling too deep into such predicament. However, not everyone is as fortunate as I am. There are the "half-homeless" who go to work every morning just like you and me. The difference is that Instead of returning to a house or an apartment in the evening, they retreat to their vehicles that is their home. Click here to watch video.

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Sunday, August 26, 2007

Fields of American Dream


"Ten year old Ramiro is like a lot of children in Tulare County. His father works in the fields and his mom struggles to make ends meet, and he knows what it’s like to sometimes go hungry...Ramiro walks us through his world to get a first-hand look at how they cope." (From Kids for Real: Rural Hunger. Click here to watch video)

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Saturday, August 25, 2007

Letter Home

Dear Mom

(author unknown)

The war is over now
My task is finally through,
But Mom there is something
I must ask of you.

I have a friend, oh what a friend
He has no home you see,
So Mom I would like
To bring him home with me.

If someone comes home with you,
I'm sure that he could stay
For a day or two.



Please Mom, I have to tell you something
Please don't be alarmed,
My friend, you see in battle
Happen to lose one arm.

My son, don't be afraid
To bring him home with you,
He could stay and visit
For even a week or two.

But Mom, he's not just a friend
He's a brother too,
That's why I want him to live with us
And be a son to you.

But...before you give me answer
There's something I must say,
My friend fought in a battle
In which he lost a leg.

My son, it hurts me to say this
But my answer must be no,
Your father and I would have no time
For one who is crippled so.

Sometime later a letter came
Saying their son was dead,
And when they read the cause of death
"Suicide" it said.

Sometime later when the casket came
Wrapped with the country flag,
They saw their son lying there
With out an arm or leg.


"At the Polytrauma Unit of the VA medical center in Palo Alto, we meet four TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) patients who are working to put their lives back together. Only some of them bear obvious wounds, such as a lost eye or a missing part of a skull, but all share in common serious injuries to their brains. These veterans must relearn everyday things that we take for granted. Some struggle with simple motor skills, like picking up a pencil or walking normally; others grapple with memory loss and emotional difficulties, like one Army veteran who can’t remember giving birth to her own daughter." (From War Stories from Ward 7-D. Click here to watch video)

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Friday, August 24, 2007

Cornfield in Metropolis

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"Soap Bubble" by Penny August

I float on the wind
try to steer clear
of branches,
thorns on roses
olive trees,
and any other
sharp objects.
If scathed
I'm afraid
I might
burst.

(Thanks to Penny August for her permission to share this poem.)

(Much thanks to Penny August for her permission to share this wonderful poem)

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Thursday, August 23, 2007

Happy Feet


"A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages."

-Tennessee Williams

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Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Committed


Changing course is acceptable
and may be necessary,
but turning back is not an option.

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Monday, August 20, 2007

Down the Tubes



It looks bad,
but it could be worse.
Better stop the bleeding first
before it's all drained away.

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Sunday, August 19, 2007

Bit More Than Can Chew

"I cried because I had no shoes,
until I met a man with no feet."
-Unknown

The air was chilly and damp. It had been raining all morning. I went to the Grand Central Market to buy some fresh fruits and vegetables. While walking there, I saw a homeless man huddled near a noisy heat vent of an office building to keep warm. I felt sorry for him. On my way back from shopping, I stopped to offer the man a bag of apples I had bought. I expected him to be happy. Instead, he pointed to his mouth to reveal his rotten and missing teeth. "I can't chew," he said in resignation. Wow. How sad is that? The guy couldn't eat even if he had food. After seeing that, I felt ashamed of all those times I complained about my food not tasting just right.

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Friday, August 17, 2007

My Kroptonite


Everyone has their Kroptonite. For some, it's pepperoni pizza and ice-cream. For others, it's cigarette and whiskey. What's yours?

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Thursday, August 16, 2007

Eye Drop


Birdie Birdie in the sky,
Dropped a poopie in my eye
I'm not angry, I won't cry
I'm just glad that cows don't fly
-Unknown

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Building a Cathedral

Jose always starts with an end in mind. The blueprint is his guide and compass. Though it may be small in scale, it contains colossal dreams. Pigments upon pigments he builds diligently from grounds up until one day it becomes his cathedral.

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Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Outside In



On the day I met Freddie, he was passing time looking out the window. He had noticed my walking around his neighborhood with a camera in my hand, and he wondered what I was up to. I told him that I was visiting a friend in San Francisco who was graduating from law school. I wanted to take some photographs as a momento of my trip. After chatting a bit, I asked him if he would like to have a photograph. He was agreeable and invited me upstairs. During our conversation, I learned that he had been house sitting all day for his mother. Waiting is a tedious job. You're stuck at one place. Time appears to stand still while the world on the outside keeps moving on, seemingly without you...that sinking feeling of being all dressed up and have no place to go. One thing I immediately noticed about Freddie was the long scar along his forearm. I was curious to know, but I wasn't sure if I were prepared for the answer he might give me. I could only speculate how he had gotten it. Was it a battle scar that is indicative of the hard road he had traveled? Or could it have been something more benign... perhaps, he had fallen off riding his bike as a little boy. Whatever the facts are, it will always be a constant reminder of what happened, a snapshot etched into one's mind. I had promised Freddie that I would send him his picture when I got back home. I am not sure if he had ever gotten it. I'd imagine that when a person looks at his own picture, it's like looking into a mirror. It's sort of a strange, out-of-the-body, experience. I wonder who he sees when he's outside looking in and not the other way around. As of this moment, I could still picture Freddie sitting by the window....looking out..waiting for the moment of his mother's return.

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Monday, August 13, 2007

Green In Red


Survival is not the same as living. In order to survive, a living thing must be protected from the harsh elements when it is not yet capable to survive on its own. But to thrive, it must be given enough space and time to grow so that its potential could be fully realized.

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Sunday, August 12, 2007

Hard Cover


"Never judge a book by its movie."
-J.W. Eagan

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Strong Silent Type

I was on my way home when I decided to stop by a neighborhood fast food restaurant. When I first entered, I was taken back by the loud singing that I initially thought was music coming from a jukebox. You see that little boy sitting alone at the table with a jar of dollar bills? That is Juan. The man singing with the microphone is his uncle, Joseph. He makes his living as a lounge singer. They go from one restaurant to another working for tips. Juan is what you would called, "the strong, silent type". He had been hiding under the table to avoid talking to me. "Come here and say what's your name...How old are you?", Joseph asked. Even with his uncle's persuasion, he only managed to say a few words. Joseph and I simply looked at each other and laughed. He affectionately patted his nephew's head as if to tell him, "it's okay". Before I said goodbye, I walked over to Juan and slipped a couple of bucks into the jar. Even though Juan doesn't perform, he and his uncle are a team. They seem to take good care of each other.

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White Dress

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"If You Lived Here, You'd be Home By Now"


I busted out laughing at what she said to me as I walked by... They are the exact words on huge advertisement banners on top of high rise luxury apartment for lease that I see when I drive by downtown on the 110-freeway. The day before I met Rochelle, she was visited by a church that had given her a bunny candy basket for Easter. On this day, she was hanging outside her government subsidized apartment feeding wild pigeons she affectionately called her "friends". We talked for a while and before I left, I asked her if I could get something for her. She told me that she would like me to get her a huge chocolate bar and a 3 liter soda. I thought she was crazy. I've never heard of a 3 liter soda. She insisted that I go to Rite Aid down the street and get it. I must admit that I had to eat a humble pie. Yep. Wouldn't you believe it...

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Saturday, August 11, 2007

Dead On Arrival


I was on my way to Chinatown when I saw a tow truck blocking the middle of the road. I pulled my car to the side of the road and approached the truck driver. Apparently, he was on his way to pick up a disabled vehicle when the wheels of his truck fell off. I snapped off this picture of him waiting patiently for another tow truck to take his away.

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Gary


Gary is a homeless man I met under Chinatown's Metrolink Station. When I approached him, he was sitting on the bench listening to a baseball game being broadcast on his hand-held AM radio. He asked me if I would like to have a cigarette. Not being a smoker, I respectfully declined. I wasn't prepared for the next question he asked me. He wanted to know if I wanted to see something he killed the day before. I was intrigued and a bit anxious at the same time. When I finally agreed, he walked back to the bench where his belongings were and took out a thermos bottle from his duffel bag. Then he held it in front of me, opened the lid, and slowly shook out its content...as I gazed in amazement, a dead scorpion spilled out onto the black pavement next to our feet. I asked him where he had found it, and he said that he had gotten it from the Chinese merchant a couple of blocks around the corner. It was difficult to carry on a conversation with Gary, because he was speaking incoherently. It was obvious that he had some form of mental illness.

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