Songs of Pain and Hope

For those who actually know me, they know I’m pretty moderate in my views and beliefs.  I have close friends of every ethnicity, background, faith (or none), sexual orientation, etc.  I’m good with all of that – I think people are more than what they identify with.  It’s still about the soft eyes, heart, and the backbone.   

But I really didn’t enjoy being usually one of the only Asians, if not the only one, in many of the environments I was in.  It was downright annoying and tiring.  It gave me certain advantages, but the drawbacks were significant too.  Constantly underestimated and mislabeled, it takes a toll.  I told the girl I lit the candles for that I had a crap choice to make – be a doormat or threat.  You can guess what I chose. 

I ask this question – a bit tongue in cheek – name the second most famous Asian American.  I’ll spare you the suspense for number one – it’s Bruce Lee – he was born in the US although raised in Hong Kong.  Second?  That’s hard.  Michelle Kwan, Grace Park, that guy who ran for President?  I don’t know and honestly don’t care.

At the NYPD, I was in a meeting with the Department’s Chief of Staff.  He goes to me – Who are you?  I wanted to go Russell Crowe on him as in the Gladiator movie where he goes – Commander of the armies of the north, general of the Felix Legions, so on so forth but I didn’t answer.  I stayed silent and gave him my introvert face.  Wasn’t trying to be rude or disrespectful. That was just instinct.  I usually let other things speak for me – especially my work and on the field or court, knocking people to the ground.

But I also liked to throw people off a bit.  I’d rap during some staff get togethers – Snoop Dogg, Geto Boys, P. Diddy.  I don’t really know that genre all that well but memorized some for their cadence and lyricism.  During Bible study in Boston after someone would play one of those worship songs that sounded like elevator music, I’d ask to borrow the guitar and launch into some Hendrix or Stone Tenple Pilots.

Here’s the thing.  I wasn’t trying to be white, black, Malaysian, whatever.  Or even some breaker of Asian stereotypes.

I was being myself.

I remember this clip of Jay-Z in Paris when some Frenchie asked him “Who are you?”  I don’t think the question was ill meant but out of curiosity at his entourage.

The reply was perfect.

Who are you?

(From the DA years)

One of the hardest things to have in a world filled with sin.  It is easy to gloss over and be desensitized by news accounts of tragedy.  I read American and Malaysian newspapers and see the same stories of destruction, crime, racism, disappointment, and other forms of evil.  Last summer, I worked on four murder cases in which a 27 and 23-year old man, a 17-year old boy, and a 81-year old woman were killed in different ways.  

The damage to the families is indescribable.  The 17-year old had both sets of grieving grandparents still alive.  He was shot for fun by three teenagers.  A hollow point bullet ripped up his insides as his killers laughed at him as he bled to death.  And this was in St. Paul, Minnesota, one of the safer cities in the US.  I do not need to go into detail here about DC where the Little Lights kids encounter these events daily, NYC, Nashville, Chicago, or Philly.  

I find that people respond to these things in several ways.  A common defense mechanism is to hope that those things will not happen personally to them.  But this is just false hope; everyone gets slammed some way sooner or later.  Another mechanism is to believe that if one leads a righteous or Christian life, one will be spared from these things.  But this is also not true.  The 17-year old boy and his family were Christians.  The 27-year old man was loved by his friends and remembered as a good man.  Finally, people can respond with despair and a loss of hope. 

My prosecutor mentor, who has served for 25 years, says this is why he doesn’t believe in God.  I find it hard to argue with him on this point.  Some of you will read this and lecture us on how wrong we are to think this way.  Maybe some of you will even quote Scripture and theories about free will and sin.  But it is not quite as easy as that.  

I write here I am struggling to reconcile how there is so much brutality in a world that still has its original semblance of goodness and beauty.  I think about these things as I drive back and forth from Indiana, through the Pennsylvania mountains, the Ohio valleys, and the familiarity of Maryland, my home state.  It boggles my mind how we can live and treat each other the way we do.  

But ultimately, the nagging question that is raised is where is God in all this?  

We should also ask where is Satan in all this?  

I have realized a few things.  I am sure now that there is a heaven where all things will be made right, where there will be no sorrow or pain.  

We must learn to see the big picture and to live for what is meaningful.  We must also learn to enjoy the good moments that are given to us, with a loose grip on them.  For many of us, especially we who live in the US, there is much to be thankful for. 

But we cannot cling to the illusion that this life will truly fulfill us.  This illusion leads to restlessness and gradual destruction..

There was a peer at a fellow church who was a naturally gifted musician and amazing guitar player.  I could hold my own, but he would learn songs in a day that took me days or weeks to learn.  As I have previously mentioned, I have virtually no musical ear and I struggle to read sheet music.  What I did know how to do was use my instrument as a percussive one like Dave Grohl.  In any case, I had to learn each song very painfully – note by note.

I was so ashamed of myself when I played next to this guy – I would beat myself up for not being as good and wondered what I was doing wrong.  Only last week when I was walking with the girl, I realized and told her in some ways, I had the better story.

It was me who played in the best jazz ensemble in the county, not him.  My fingers really bled from all the fumbling around.  But I knew how to get the most out of my limited talent.

In a way, this was the better story.

When I was a DA, I was either prohibited or discouraged from stating the race or ethnicity of a suspect.  It was even written in either my Office’s or Division’s guidelines.  I can see why this practice was implemented and also its drawbacks.  I’ve carried this practice (mostly) over to my writing.  I almost never explicitly identify the race or ethnicity of anyone.  It may be guessable at times but that’s not how I was trained or how I roll.  People are people and until they grow an extra appendage, it should stay that way.  But race matters.  And not necessarily in the way you would think it does.  But I don’t want to think too hard on that as my daughter used to say when she was small – it hurts my head or in Spanish me duele mi cabeza.

This one is about making a proper response.

In Boston, I was at Trader Joe’s when someone not Asian told me in no uncertain terms to know my place.  A bit taken aback but also not really, I hesitated before saying “What the fuck did you say, motuerfucker?” as I glared at him.  The look of fear in his eyes as he backed off to look for his two buck chuck – that was priceless.  He was likely used to Asians saying nothing and backing down.  Wrong one.

My faith teaches us to turn the other cheek at offenses but I also see how this principle has been used to hide cowardice.  There are also exceptions to every rule (I think).  In this case, he’d think twice before talking down again to anyone.  

I also picked this up recently.  In the Bible, God tells one of His prophets, Samuel, if not to outright lie, at least to misdirect.  Displeased and disappointed with the performance and character of Israel’s first king, Saul, God tells Samuel to anoint the future king, David.  To which Samuel responds – are you kidding me?  When Saul finds out, I’ll soon be missing more than an appendage.  What do I tell Saul?  So God isn’t a fool.  He tells Samuel – just say you’re gonna make a sacrifice but secretly visit David’s home.  Whether this all happened pre-Mossad equivalent, I don’t know but it works.  David becomes Israel’s greatest ruler.  My detective friend said he was something.

This principle applies universally.  The response can and must vary.  Sometimes the unconventional is what it is and at others it is conventional.  The converse is also true.  There’s an ancient Chinese stratagem that goes – Resurrect a corpse to enliven a soul.  It refers to taking something considered old, obsolete, or outdated and using it in a modern setting.  It then appears new.  Think about it – you can see this principle in music, movies, fashion, even cell phone design.  And a ton of other examples.

I’ll tell you this though.  I don’t regret what I did at Trader Joe’s.  I learned that as an immigrant kid.  It has saved my hide on several occasions and with humility, probably others too. 

My first love’s cousin once told me that she (the former) should have married me.  I have thought about this for decades.  I don’t really know how I feel about that but as one of my captains used to tell me when he didn’t want to admit I was right – it wasn’t wrong.  Something like that.

This one is about choices, consequences, and destinies.  Ours, others, and how they intersect.

Someone asked me how I could trust God when some of the decisions I felt Him guide, nudge, lead, or even tell me to follow or do had negative consequences.  The answer for me was relatively simple – there were good consequences as well.  I wrote a poem about this – you don’t pick and choose what you like about how things play out – take it all or none at all.

There’s an ancient Chinese fable that illustrates the fluidity of events.  I don’t fully recall all the details but a section has a horse appearing as a gift to someone and his friend goes – what good luck.  The man replies – we’ll see.  Shortly thereafter, the man’s son falls off the horse and breaks his leg.  Now the friend goes – what bad luck, to which the reply is the same – we’ll see.  Turns out that the injury saves the son from being conscripted to fight in a war.  You just never know.

Our decisions and those of others collide.  How it all fits together is a mystery and probably best left to God to sort it all out.  I think that’s the beauty of destiny.  It follows us and nothing can stop it.  You know I’d have to insert a Godfather reference here – Vito is humbly working as a grocery store clerk when he gets unjustly let go in order for the nephew of the local crime lord could take his job.  Long story short, a sequence of events play out involving seemingly random events and conscious decisions to launch Vito into his destiny as the Don.  

And this is true of many people – including those in the Bible.  The pit, desert, prison, cross –  all lead to a great purpose or destiny.  I told my judge friend that it’s the storm that takes you somewhere (thanks Joel Osteen).  It’s actually better than the lulls in many ways when nothing seems to be happening (actually a lot happens here too).

I keep asking whether we can choose our destines or whether they choose us.  It’s probably a bit of both.  I think we all know to some extent.  Winston Churchill said he may have been a worm but he was a glow worm.  He wasn’t wrong.  The man responsible (in part) for one of the greatest disasters in military history (Gallipoli) is also the man who resisted Adolf Hitler.

I told my kids stories about my first love.  They were amused.  As they learn more about their dad, they start to realize where all their naughtiness comes from – ability to swear as well (Daughter is such a natural, I can’t help but smile).

How all the above fits together, it still comes down to trust in something – God or the universe.  But if you listen very hard, the truth will come to you at last.

We’ll see.

1. Life is really about loving people.  Without expectations.   We tend to love in order to receive love back.  It is admittedly discouraging when we love others who do not seem to reciprocate or fulfill our expectations.  But the solution to this issue, as stated by an unnamed nun, is not to rest or stop, but rather to keep digging deeper in our hearts to love more.  Can we love the people that hurt us the most?  Can we love the people that seem unworthy of love?  Very difficult. 

2. Shallow relationships and friendships destroy community.  Broken and hurting people around like they have it all together; either suppressing or ignoring the main issues gnawing away at their hearts.  The irony is that only in facing those issues can we discover our capability to experience peace and joy.  Doing otherwise is like putting a band-aid on a broken bone.  Jesus demonstrated transparency and humility when dealing with broken people.  After all, I think that all we really want is to be found and loved.  Not loved for the good things we are, but rather with the junk and baggage we carry around.  But our inability and reluctance to be open and honest take away our only real chance at true community.  This is not to mention the other forces of competition and jealousy that constantly hammer away at our lives. 

3. God uses crooked sticks to draw straight lines.  I thought about President Bush and how people make fun of him, how his family is pretty dysfunctional.  Probably not the greatest president to ever run the country, but it is hard to argue that he does not have at least some of our best interests at heart.   Some of the best people I have met here in Indiana are people that the church would easily condemn as sinners.  Homosexuals, divorced people, braggarts, couples who cohabitate.  To extend Philip Yancey’s thought, it is probably easier to find grace (albeit a false grace) in a prostitute, food, drugs rather than in a church.    

4. God loves us.  A relationship with Him is the most important thing, even with the issues that we may have with Him.

I never felt small on the basketball even with bigger, taller players.  I had actually more problems guarding smaller, quicker ones.  I modeled my game after big combo guards like Larry Hughes and swingmen like James Posey.

In a similar fashion, even though I was usually one of the only Asians in the schools, units, squads, commands, and even the entire organization I was part of, I did not let that fact define me.  But it did matter, as I would learn to my detriment.

I’ve been a minority my entire life.  I’m grateful for the US, it would have been so much worse in Malaysia.  I told a close trusted friend that it’s not the explicit stuff that kills you, it’s the implicit instances that do.  Those are the knives that stick in your ribs.

Hard to prove, sometimes to detect, but wow, when you feel it, you know it.  Especially in the fields I found myself in.  That so-called bamboo ceiling?  Not only did I not break through, I don’t think I even got close.  In fact, at the end, I was closer to the floor.

I have amazing friends and mentors of all ethnicities and religious persuasions.  So I hold no ill will or blame to anyone.  But if I could only repeat the stunning and shocking things said and done to me.  I had to use the teachings of Bruce, Boyd, Sun Tzu, etc. just to stay afloat.  And it wasn’t enough.

I have a judge friend who sent me a video of her daughter wearing her robes.  I remarked that this would be a preview of her future – that she would be a Supreme Court Justice one day.  My friend replied that she hoped that her daughter would pick something more creative, like be a rock star such as Bono (our favorite).

I once had visions of the kids being pezzonovantes – breaking into the upper echelon of society per the Godfather.  Probably still on the table because it’s important for Asians,but I can also see why they shouldn’t play that game.

But maybe one day, per Alfred in the Dark Knight, burn not only the ceiling but the whole bamboo forest down.

I do almost everything right handed – write, throw, eat, shoot (basketball, gun), etc.  Except one maybe surprising thing – drive to the hoop in basketball.  For some very weird reason, I find it difficult to get the timing and footwork correct for right handed drives and layups to the hoop.  When I think back, I recall making most of my corner jumpshots from the left side and rarely from the right.

This one is about quirks and unexpected advantages.

I grew up with a pretty underachieving professional hometown basketball team – the Washington Bullets.  Highly unlucky, mismanaged, incompetent, I not fully jokingly say I learned a lot about management from their example.  They did have one team that stood out in the mid 90s.  The team had Chris Webber, Juwan Howard, Rod Strickland, Gheorge Muresan.  And their bench wasn’t half bad too.  They even gave the eventual NBA Champions – the Chicago Bulls a run for their money in the playoffs.  Even Michael Jordan predicted that they would be a future force in the league.  But as we say in the DC area, in So Bullets fashion, they screw it up majorly but that’s another story for another day.

My favorite player on that team, however, was probably Calbert Cheaney – their shooting guard/small forward and a fellow Hoosier.  He was, unlike most if not all of his teammates, left handed.  This gave him a tremendous advantage when he would drive and pull up against opponents who were more accustomed to guard right handed players.  Although I shot with my right hand, the fact I dribbled left somewhat better, gave me more separation and open space to pull up with a surprise jumper.

That left handed thing also applies outside of basketball.  In baseball, you can make a career out of being a one-inning left handed relief pitcher.  In fact, before the rule changed, you could even be a one-batter reliever.  This is how precious and rare a commodity you were – to face left handed batters.

I didn’t come up with this one but apparently there’s this hero in the Bible that was left-handed.  The scripture emphasizes and highlights that fact and it can be interpreted as a shortcoming that allows him to be underestimated.  Maybe true but again with God, probably more than  meets the eye.  There are physical as well as mental advantages.

This really isn’t about dominant hands – that really isn’t a quirk by itself.  It is about what makes us all special and how they can be unexpected sources of power and joy.  Look around, it’s all over.  Birds that can’t fly.  Fruits that aren’t sweet.  Poetry that doesn’t rhyme.  Songs with a chord outside the traditional pattern (Pearl Jam’s Alive chorus is E G D A – not usually found in many rock songs.)

If you notice, I rarely to never write about politics and legal issues.  I have a standing job offer to do that but I really don’t want to do that.  It would feel like torture and reliving pain.  But I also think this principle applies here too.  Donald Trump for example.  I’m pretty independent politically when I do engage but as a neutral strategist (as much as possible), how he won not only the nomination and presidency showcased this principle at work.

Embrace the quirk.  It not only makes you different, unique but also powerful.  I wrote the girl out of left field/with the short fuse about these two pitchers – Tim Wakefield and Todd Frohwirth.  Those who know how they pitched know what I’m talking about.  I’ll publish all that someday.

Emulating the alliteration of the protagonist from V for Vendetta, I could say my writing is about vindication,  validation, value, and even vengeance.  After so long of many things – silence, privacy, not being listened to, judged, stereotyped, underestimated, feared.

And maybe that’s all true in part.

But at the heart or it all, it is really about something else.  

My true voice.