Songs of Pain and Hope

The snake I write about is now termed the first Commissioner from his ethnic / religious group in NYC history. That’s the description on his agency’s website.   No doubt his daughter will boast of him that way to others.

What would I want mine to say about me?

It’s simple.

My father wasn’t him.

This is why the map of the human genome may not be as accurate as it could be.  My colleagues and I used to spit in the plates containing the DNA for extraction and sequencing.  My first job out of college was at a company called Celera founded by J. Craig Venter (legend has it that his yacht’s sail had his face on it), he led the private sector charge to sequence the genome competing against NIH’s effort led by the equally formidable Francis Collins.  The job was repetitive, physically taxing, poor supervisor, so some nights we would play football with the plates and insert our own DNA as mentioned.  Regardless, I got to be a small part of history.  I did bump into Venter once.  I still have one of my lab coats (with my name embossed).  I gave the other to the girl I lit the candles for.

My second job was slightly better, but it was the makeup of the lab that was special.  Never have I worked with such a diverse group – Black, Vietnamese, Thai, Filipino, Egyptian, Caucasian, Ethiopian.  Our potlucks were amazing.  It got me ready for the future.  I used to put candy bars in the freezers to chill them for dessert.  And to this day, I don’t need an external timer, I got so good at internally measuring time.

Fun times aside, my science background came in the most useful in NYC.  At its heart, biology is the study of processes, systems, and their interconnectedness.  I viewed the city as an ecosystem (concrete jungle where dreams are made of right?) and the Department as a complex organism within it.

I was never going to be a scientist type.  I could barely function in a lab.  But for some reason, I felt led to major in biological science over business, history, political science (all which I was probably better suited for).  It makes sense now, it also helped me have a deeper appreciation for our world and universe.  Oh and baseball pitches.

A while back, the girl picked up the trombone.  Her other choices for an instrument to learn in 5th grade were the flute or clarinet.  I suspect she got assigned the trombone because of her height.  It fits her personality – bright, strong, and loud.  I also told her that the trombone is versatile (jazz, symphonic band, orchestra).

I suspect her skill level will be approximately close to mine.  Needs a lot of practice, repetition, and failure to get up to speed.  She’s the less musical of the two (at least for now).  Her singing arcs toward mine – in the off-key direction.

But like me, she will play with heart.  I have a picture of her singing Let it Go at a church retreat talent show.  Could hear her even when not in the room.  It’s not the most in tune, but she is all in, all out.  You know it’s her.

I’m going to slip this in here – I manage to sneak in a stanza from U2s With or Without You into a worship song at church.  After the service, a dad comes up wanting to introduce his daughter to me.  He inquires whether I knew of her.  I did.  Soft eyes and all.  But back then, it was already the girl I lit the candles for.

The current case I’ve been working on has made me do a lot of thinking.  Five-year old girl raped by stepbrother, brother, and another man.  On one incident, she was made to perform oral sex on one abuser while the other one penetrated her from behind.  Later on, her blood-brother made her also perform oral sex on him.

Eighteen year-old Angel Mucciolo was shot and killed in South Philadelphia this past Sunday by Asian gang members.  She was the 219th person murdered in our city this year.  Unlike the majority of the other murders, she was not connected to drug dealers or other disputes.  

She was caught in the crossfire of bullets intended for someone else.  Right before she was shot, she had attended a wedding.  She was also planning to enroll in a forensic science program at a community college.  She left behind a grieving father, mother, siblings, and boyfriend. How do you look in the eyes of another human being and feel no remorse at shooting them? My heart is filled with unspeakable words. (It seems that death is everywhere and not confined only to our cities and Third World countries.  Those who live in suburban areas die a different kind of death – a slower one disguised as life.  Truly we are here only for a season.) 

Story I 

One of my cases.  Defendant and friend go to settle a debt with a bunch of 20 year-old kids at their apartment.  Apparently, there was no debt to be settled that day.  Defendant decides to rape one of the kids by not only penetrating her but also inserting his gun into her vagina.  Mind you, this is after he binds and blindfolds her, and stuffs her panties into her mouth.  Then defendant’s friend shoots her in the eye and blows her brains out and then does the same to the other kid by capping him in the back of the head. 

Story IU

So in our beloved city of love (as well as other cities), we have a problem with witness intimidation.  Witnesses do not want to testify or come forward with information to solve crimes because defendant or his friends threaten them.  In fact, people sell T-shirts that say “Stop Snitching” right in front of City Hall.  Worse still, many witnesses have been murdered after cooperating with law enforcement. In a rare case, someone came forward with information that led to the arrest of a murderer.  In this case, there was a $40,000 reward that she was entitled to.  Guess what, kiddos?  The Crime Commission who offered the reward are withholding it.  Do you know why?  Because she didn’t give them the tip, but rather to the police.  They say that the correct procedure was to report it to them.  Based on this, this brave woman who risked her life will not get the reward due to some idiotic penny-pinchredtape ingrates.

On one cross-country drive (done it three times), I had the privilege of seeing the transition from the Rockies to mesas (Colorado) to red desert (Arizona) to yellow desert (California).  Stunning and spectacular.

I love to compare the five most beautiful states with fellow travelers.  For me…

Colorado – That line from John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High “I’ve seen it raining fire from the sky” – I realized the meaning when I saw lightning hit the top of a mountain in the Rockies.

Minnesota – Those lakes.  The drive along the mighty Mississippi River.  The North Shore.

Idaho – Gorgeous landscape.  Eagles flying in the mountains.  

Maine – Rugged, the ocean, Arcadia National Park where the arrival of both kids was heralded.

California – Truly golden.

And the 5 ugliest ones?  Ok, every state has its own beauty but that’s like saying everyone is special and all kids are cute.  We all know that no one really means it.  I used to volunteer in the church nursery and some kids, ehhh.

To be sensitive to friends who live in those states, I’ll keep the specific list to myself.  There is an O in there, one with the same first letter of a common swear word, and the one where you refer to exits for geographic considerations.