Songs of Pain and Hope

My daughter is named after one of the main female characters in Lord of the Rings.  The one from the Riders of Rohan, who I call horse girl. She is often confused with the elf girl.  This to me, is annoying at times, because we all know that the horse girl is the coolest woman in the trilogy hands down.  Elf girl  pines for future king most of the time.  Horse girl  does too and gets rejected but ends up with a bit of a consolation prize in another guy but you can’t always get what you want but you get whet you need.  I really wanted to marry the girl I lit the candles for but that didn’t pan out. 

This one is about strong women.

In the trilogy, horse girl kills the lead Ringwraith – the Witch King.  He is plainly an overconfident prick because it was prophesied that no man would kill him.  Except that was a very Macbeth like promise because horse girl disguises herself as a man to fight for her people.   I often showed mine the clip when she removes her helmet to reveal herself before doing a Solozzo on Witch King while saving “I am no man.”  Present day daughter lives up to that.  She used to yell “NYPD!”’at the playground while chasing misbehaving kids.  I did not teach her that.  I swear.  I taught her other stuff like how to search a person and to look at trash for evidence.  She’ll find it handy once she starts dating in 20 years or so.  I kid.

I could guard any man in basketball.  But a woman was a bit different.  In my freshman year of high school, the future captain of the Princeton women’s basketball team was in my gym class.  I had to guard her a lot.  She took me to school.  I also defended her in football as a corner with marginally better results.  She was so strong and fast.  I also once guarded someone who played point guard for Northwestern University’s women’s basketball team.  She was really steady and played offense a lot like I did – not flashy but controlled.  She was the only female playing with us guys.  Extremely difficult to stick to – she knew how to move with and without the ball.  She was actually harder to guard than my classmate who played college ball as well.

This has shifted a bit but at one point my primary mentors were women.  They are still the most accomplished ones in my circle.  Both shaped my thinking profoundly and they were the first two to comment positively on my writing and encourage me to pursue this path more seriously.

I was also blessed to have taught many amazing female students, especially in Boston.  I was so proud of them.  Savvy, smart, full of life and character.  I told them they gave me hope for my own daughter who was awaiting birth at that time.  Also professionally – sister prosecutors and adopted sister police officers.  

The group of students I used to shepherd at church also had many outstanding females.  I didn’t realize this until last year but the predator I wrote about was to be their primary guide until fate or destiny intervened.  Mysterious ways and all that.  

Present day daughter is learning Brazilian jujitsu.  I also see how she is a leader among her peers.  This is actually her Chinese zodiac year – the dragon. 

Still hidden for now as she should be.

But all dragons appear and rise in time.  The daughter of the snake is also a dragon.  Maybe she will be a good one.  Maybe she won’t.  

Fathers matter.  Time will tell.

But my girl has me and all my powerful mentors and friends in her corner.  The seeds I sowed decades ago and watered since.  My stories too but I suspect hers will be better.

And the God who watches over her.

As to the photo above, she wore 5 when she played soccer – like the legendary Spanish and Barcelona defender Carles Puyol, one of the greatest and toughest captains in history. She played a lot like him – the best tackler on the team. Absolutely fearless and unrelenting.

He’s not so well known in the US, but one of the historical figures I’ve looked up to is Sir Francis Walsingham, Queen Elizabeth I’s Secretary of State and her chief advisor.  Elizabeth’s reign is considered one of the greatest in British history but it wasn’t so clear that it would be that way when she ascended to the throne.  The daughter of Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII, she wasn’t even supposed to be the queen.  Her kingdom was initially fractured, financially insecure, and under threat of invasion by quite a few powers.

But she was a player.

She took a mixed to weak hand and set up England to be a world power.  Absolutely astute and savvy, she was the OG Daenerys Targaryen.  And she had dragons of her own – she knew talent and how to harness it. Unlike so many of the insecure arrogant assclowns I’ve known.

Walsingham was a major part of her success.

Playing the role of mentor and advisor, he guided her faithfully and loyally for his entire career.  He died poor, having dedicated service to Queen and Country.  He taught her how to ward off enemies – external and internal.  Saved her life with his work.  He also is considered the father of MI6 – he was the original M and had his double 0s everywhere.  

A key scene in the Godfather is when Michael Corleone limits the role and scope of Tom Hagen, his consigliere and adopted brother.   Tom is not a wartime consigliere and it shows in his mediocre service to the Family.  Michael dismisses him and says that his father, the now retired Vito, is the best consigliere he’ll ever need.

Possibly one of my favorite scenes in all film is when Vito has one last conversation with Michael.  They discuss the past, present, and future.  It is insightful and incisive. Vito nails everything perfectly with his observations and predictions.  This is the type of conversation I yearned for with many but rarely got it.

But I can do it with my kids.  One of the names considered for my daughter was Elizabeth, after the great queen.  I envisioned advising her like Walsingham and Vito.  

And so I will.

This life was filled with painful lessons but this is one of the purposes.  I hated it when people called my daughter a princess.

She is a queen.

I had a Glock 32, .357 caliber.  That’s a big gun.  No safety too and extra rounds.  I only shot it once.  I was accurate.  I had only shot a gun once before that, .45 at DA Training Camp near Hershey Park.  I can credit this to the gangster side of my family but I think it was more to do with shooting a basketball.  I realize this year that it’s the same process.  Set your feet, have a good stance, breathe in, breathe out, aim, release.  That’s all.  For the record, guns aren’t my thing.  The US needs to control it better and way too many people fantasize about shooting them sideways like in the movies (absolutely not the way to go, you’re more inclined to shoot yourself that way).  I could hold my own against several officers at the range.  But like many things I did, I hid this – they thought I loved math and played video games like all Asians do.  I’m actually not that good at those.  I had to cheat off someone to survive calculus and I can only generally play sports games.

This one is about how nothing is wasted.

I had no intention of entering the legal or criminal justice world.  I was originally going to be a high school biology teacher per some terrible and poor guidance from church leaders.  Nothing wrong with that vocation, I count my high school teachers to be the best influences in my life and perhaps the most noble profession.  But that wasn’t my destiny (at least back then).  But that science and teaching background came into play repeatedly over the course of my career and personal life.  I think this is beyond looking for connections just for the sake of it.  This, to me, is evidence of a plan or design.  Free will and all but as my high school Spanish teacher says – God has a plan.

The hard part in all of this for me is believing that the plan is a good one –  not just for others,  but for me.  The point, in my opinion, is to look back and say, wow, what a ride.  That it was worth the waiting in line and the price of admission. 

Someone asked me whether I wanted to be a famous writer.  I said nope, the glory can all go to God.  I don’t say that with a holler than thou attitude, maybe a bit tinged with resignation and resentment, but it’s about something else – likely the faith that nothing is wasted.  There have been some very famous writers who have had unhappy ends – Hemingway, Plath, David Foster Wallace.  And this is true of any vocation or profession – the whys are more important than the whats.

It’s not applicable to all events but I realized I needed something from many of the places I’ve been – especially in unexpected and trying times.  It only became clear much later on many occasions.  My faith teaches that all things work out for good, even and especially those meant for harm.

And also, a bit under the radar, the seemingly trivial and mundane.  I once had this job in college where I was pretty much an administrative assistant.  It had no connection with my major or planned career path.  In fact, it happened the summer before my senior year.  It only occurred to me recently why I had that job – it was for a recommendation for law school as I worked for my academic advisor.  I went to a large state school and didn’t know many professors personally.  That job was also a last minute audible because the one I was set for couldn’t take me as I was still a non-citizen at that time.  Mysterious ways and maybe belief.

I now think that the destination is set and the path is the variable.  Not the other way around.  What and how we choose determines the color and tone of the eventual outcome.  Eowyn had this brilliant classmate in pre K whom I asked whether time is a river.  He said it only appeared that way to some.  I asked when he would start his company so I could work for him and he could also marry my daughter.

And maybe cheat off him in math.

The senior pastor of the church I grew up in was considered a star in the Chinese Christian community, even being termed the Chinese Billy Graham.  He built a reputation for himself and the church.  He did a lot of good –  no one can take that from him.  

He was also a bully.  No one really stood up to him and his behavior for a long time.  They are complicit in his misdeeds.  This plays out every day in many places.  Fortune favors the bold but cowards live a long time.

This one is about rain falling on everyone.

Recently, someone told me that his wife had Alzheimer’s and he was struggling with that.  I now understand why God says He takes no pleasure in the suffering of anyone.  It almost feels that present challenges amplify any prior experiences – good or bad.  A bit like Poe’s Telltale Heart.  

When I first arrived in Philadelphia, there were only two Asian male DAs in the city, including yours truly.  It was difficult.  My class was competitive and there were more than one jerkoffs.  As I’ve previously written, I broke the arm of one of them during a pickup basketball game.  I later found out he experienced a tragedy years later.  I told my high school music teacher about this and we both nodded in agreement when I said that part about the rain falling on all of us.

And in my own life.  I may as well have been Noah.  There’s this anecdote that’s supposed to be inspirational.  Fate, the devil, or someone whispers to a warrior or whoever that he or she can’t withstand the storm.  To which the reply is – I am the storm.  I get this sentiment at times and it isn’t entirely incorrect or inappropriate but it also feels like bravado at times.  I think it’s more of God still being in control of the storm and the rain that falls.  Rain also brings new life.  The rain does fall on all of us and it can have different consequences.

Yet, I did have some moments that I was the storm.  It’s still there. 

There’s this dish in my parents’ hometown of Malacca in Malaysia – Oh Chien – loosely translated as oyster omelette.  It is actually a bastardized version of a Taiwanese dish made with eggs, flour, vegetables, and oysters.  Unlike the original, the Malaysian version uses different ingredients, substituting rock oysters for the traditional ones.  The Malaysian version also doesn’t look as pretty.  In fact, it looks like random ingredients jammed together without rhyme or reason.  It is also delicious.  A bit of an acquired taste but you know what they say – once you go Malaysian you’ve reached your destination.  How’s that – girl I lit the candles for?  Look a little deeper, we surprise.  At least this one does.

This one is about looking deeper and more closely.  At situations, facts, people.  The fields I was in heavily prized the surface.  And it is costly.  For so many involved.

I often wonder why we don’t.  It’s not really about intelligence but something else.  Maybe maturity.  It takes that to see properly and also have the patience and curiosity to inquire.  I often say that many rarely asked me what and why.  The funny or not so funny thing is that even when I try to tell the real stories and story, some don’t want to know. 

Tolkien writes – All that is gold does not glitter.  Not all who wander are lost.   

I’d add that all that glitters isn’t gold – as in the fraudulent sense and all who appear found are really lost.  Hell, most if not all of us are in one way or the other.  We just don’t like to admit it.  The key is to admit it.  That’s how we are found.  I teach the kids that we don’t find God or grace or whatever rather than He or it finds us.  Often in unexpected and messy ways.  

It took me quite a while to learn how to cook oh chien.  In my opinion, the Malaysian version is actually harder to perfect than the Taiwanese one even though it looks way uglier.  A strange phenomenon perhaps but also profound in a way.  

Don’t look before you laugh 

Look ugly in a photograph 

Flashbulbs, purple irises

The camera can’t see 

I’ve seen you walk unafraid

I’ve seen you in the clothes you’ve made 

Can you see the beauty I have inside of me?

There’s this gang tattoo that has a smiling face next to a crying one.  It is commonly referred to as smile now, cry later.  My friend who was a gang officer and expert knows how to explain its meaning a lot better than I can but it has something to do with the nature of life.  Among other things.

This one is about carrying our crosses.

My faith is based around the symbol of the cross and the crucified Jesus.  We are taught to carry our own crosses and be crucified with Him.  What that exactly means I’ll leave to better theological minds and frequent church goers.  I have my own ideas but haven’t fleshed them out completely.  Not sure I ever will.

But this is about the whole question of why would anyone in their right mind want to carry a cross and face, if not a literal then at least a figurative tortured death.  It sounds like pure insanity and foolishness.  Until maybe one thinks a bit more. 

I tried not to think too much about cost-benefit ratios much in my life – education, jobs, relationships, etc.  Don’t get me wrong, I am highly analytical but at some point, I ran on faith, instinct, and intuition – damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead, all in all out.  That’s also how my daughter is – running head on, head down.  Come what may.  But I recently realized that one thing I was really poor at was identifying the hidden costs and benefits.  I could see the apparent ones well but not so much what lay behind the curtain.  Live and learn.

I ask what is the benefit of carrying one’s cross.  That’s not an easy one – the church answer is in the vicinity of something like salvation and exchanging it for a crown.  Likely true and costly.  As I teach my kids, no cross, no crown.  You don’t need to share my faith to see how that works in other life situations.  The parallel question, however, is what happens when you choose not to go the cross-crucifixion route.  On the surface, it looks like an amazing choice.  But the hidden costs.  Again, no theologian here but my gut says – you’ll end up empty, with nothing.  Like the tattoo – smile now, cry later.

I’ve previously written about this absolutely intelligent and beautiful girl who was talking to me when I was in law school.  Did I mention she was rich too?  My daughter says dad are you a gold digger?  She did not believe that a loving God would send anyone to hell.  All that aside, hell is probably not what it’s depicted like in popular culture but my guess is that it’s pretty bad.  I often casually say that so and so should go to hell but if I really think about it, it’s cruel.  Watching anyone suffer, even someone you hate, is not pleasant, even painful.  It’s not my place to determine who goes to hell – but if the classic doctrine is followed, that cross-crucifixion thing gets really important.  And even without the potential eternal consequences, there are likely temporal ones.

Smile now, cry later. 

I was going to write about my daughter at 2 learning the lyrics to We Will Rock You and some age inappropriate Pearl Jam song (Once).

Instead, I realized I wanted to write about Ash, the porcupine, from the Sing franchise.  I really like her!  Short, feisty, full of spirit, strong willed, passionate guitar player (voiced by Scarlett Johansson, also not bad).  A lot like the girl I lit the candles for.

Ash’s backstory is inspirational.  Cheated on by her porcupine boyfriend with Becky, another porcupine, she dumps him, realizes he’s been holding her back, and she becomes somewhat great.

There’s a scene in Sing 2 where she’s standing alone with her guitar and starts singing the opening verse to U2’s I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.  The crowd sings along.  And then Clay, the lion (voiced by Bono), who is still mourning his wife, unexpectedly joins her on stage.

That song wasn’t one of my favorites.  Sandwiched between Where the Streets Have No Name and With or Without You on the Joshua Tree album, I would often just press skip.

The Sing 2 version though is transcendent.  Ash basically is leading a worship service with it.

I have climbed highest mountains

Only to be with You

I have run through the fields only to be with You

I have kissed honey lips

Felt the healing in her fingertips

I believe in the Kingdom come

When all the colors will bleed into one

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

I once had the honor and privilege of working with the most decorated soldier in South Vietnamese history.  Silver Star, Bronze Star, Vietnamese Medal of Honor.  5’4″ 120 lbs, a giant of a man.  12 years in a VietCong  prison in the jungle, many in solitary confinement.  Allowed to see his wife 15 minutes a year.  His name shows up in the history books – Cau Le, look him up, the articles do him better justice than my words can.

The other Vietnamese soldier I would like to write about fought for the North, General Vo Nguyen Giáp.  

I used to keep a collection of strategic texts at work as references and also as a warning for those who wanted to mess with me (I did read most of them).  Sometimes, I would even leave the exact stratagem or tactic I would use on my desk in plain view (highlighted many times) as a deterrent to others.  I knew people liked to snoop.  At some point, I decided to keep only the essentials around (Jesuit discernment, Taoist texts, Boyd).  

And a copy of Giáp’s biography.  I knew this raised eyebrows in an office filled with patriotic types.  My captain, who did like me, was intrigued and puzzled.

Giáp was truly a master strategist.  With no formal military training (a lawyer and teacher by trade), he defeated the French, Americans, and Chinese (indirectly).  All of whom were militarily and financially superior.

He understood the concept of not playing someone else’s game.  That you have to understand your resources and know how to deploy them.  To understand your enemy.  The primacy of moral and psychological warfare.  That losing many times doesn’t matter, so long as you win at the end.

At the Paris Peace Accords, a US general told a North Vietnamese diplomat that every major battle was lost by the North.  The diplomat replies “So?  Who’s signing here today?”

Many examples outside of war and politics.

Learned a lot from both men.