the short-handled hoe
So Cesar Chavez day of Service and Learning came and went - THANK GOODNESS! My team and I led some short lessons on Chavez and farm workers, as well as an exciting illustration of the evil short-handled hoe. This garden tool was banned in most states because it caused debilitating back pain to anyone who used it for an extended period of time. However in California, the tool was still being used. Chavez worked to have this tool made illegal. Anyways, I hope the kids got something out of our non-political, non-"controversial" talk about this very cool guy. I definitely learned a lot from this experience, not only abut Chavez himself, but about the censoring that occurs even in "open" schools like the montessori school we went to on Monday.
National Youth Service Day, here I come...
3/27/2002
3/18/2002
Cesar E. Chavez
Do you know why California celebrates Cesar E. Chavez Day on April 1? Didn't think so. One of my many projects for my program includes working with kids to teach them about Chavez and helping them in their school gardens.
Okay, here's a two minute lesson: Cesar E. Chavez (1927-1993) was born in Arizona where his parents owned a farm. During the depression the farm was taken away and his entire family became migrant farm workers. He attended 37 schools until he graduated in 8th grade. This was the extent of his formal education, but he was definitely a self-taught man. He also fought in WWII. While working as a migrant farm worker in California (San Jose area), he met community organizers. He became an organizer and then later started the National Farm Workers Association, later the United Farm Workers Union, in order to fight for the rights of farm workers to have bathrooms, clean water to drink and other basic fair work conditions. He led marches, strikes and boycotts and was nationally recognized. Clinton awarded Chavez the Congressional Medal of Honor posthumously and Mexico honored him with a similar award.
Chavez story may seem comparable to Martin Luther King Jr's history. However, the schools that we're working with are concerned about us teaching Chavez history to their students. I was told to stick to the "historial" aspects so that the kids can make their own decision. It seems that he is too "controversial." I understand that some may not agree with his politics and spiritual background. But didn't people feel this way about MLK jr? Yet they still teach his messages of loving everyone and about peaceful action, which is what Chavez also stood for. Is it because he was a man of color and because he was working for the poor, immigrants and uneducated? He gave a voice to those who still have a very small voice in America.
I may be misinterpreting the school's request to keep my lesson strictly historical, but I feel that the reluctant attitude they might have toward teaching about Chavez has more to do with underlying feelings than just having the kids "decide what they think of Chavez on their own."
Do you know why California celebrates Cesar E. Chavez Day on April 1? Didn't think so. One of my many projects for my program includes working with kids to teach them about Chavez and helping them in their school gardens.
Okay, here's a two minute lesson: Cesar E. Chavez (1927-1993) was born in Arizona where his parents owned a farm. During the depression the farm was taken away and his entire family became migrant farm workers. He attended 37 schools until he graduated in 8th grade. This was the extent of his formal education, but he was definitely a self-taught man. He also fought in WWII. While working as a migrant farm worker in California (San Jose area), he met community organizers. He became an organizer and then later started the National Farm Workers Association, later the United Farm Workers Union, in order to fight for the rights of farm workers to have bathrooms, clean water to drink and other basic fair work conditions. He led marches, strikes and boycotts and was nationally recognized. Clinton awarded Chavez the Congressional Medal of Honor posthumously and Mexico honored him with a similar award.
Chavez story may seem comparable to Martin Luther King Jr's history. However, the schools that we're working with are concerned about us teaching Chavez history to their students. I was told to stick to the "historial" aspects so that the kids can make their own decision. It seems that he is too "controversial." I understand that some may not agree with his politics and spiritual background. But didn't people feel this way about MLK jr? Yet they still teach his messages of loving everyone and about peaceful action, which is what Chavez also stood for. Is it because he was a man of color and because he was working for the poor, immigrants and uneducated? He gave a voice to those who still have a very small voice in America.
I may be misinterpreting the school's request to keep my lesson strictly historical, but I feel that the reluctant attitude they might have toward teaching about Chavez has more to do with underlying feelings than just having the kids "decide what they think of Chavez on their own."
3/15/2002
public transit
There's nothing like public transportation to jolt anyone out of their own bubble. Now that I drive to work in suburbia, I kinda miss the urban commute. Sure, I'm glad to be free from sitting next to someone on muni with bad B.O., standing next to a pervert who looks at you funny on the BART or sitting in the "wrong" chair -- and by this I mean one that has an unrecognizable stain or has been dampened by someone else's sweaty ass. What I do miss is the daily human contact with my fellow commuters. There's an unspoken bond that forms when the bus takes off as riders are trying to exit through the back door and everyone screams "BACK DOOR!". And yet another connection forms when you're awkwardly sharing the same pole with 5 other people.
Okay, so most of the time buses are filled with individuals who couldn't care less about the person sitting next to them or why they're even on the same bus. Even the buses and trains that are filled to the brim can be the most lonely places. But sometimes the most routine ride reminds me of our connectness as human beings.
What brings me to this reflection? Yesterday I took the caltrain up to the city for the closing night film and gala for the SF International Asian American Film Festival. About 15 minutes into my trip, an older man with a rolling wire cart enters my train. He sits down in the seat in front of me and I can hear him catching his breath. When the ticket taker comes by, the older man tells him that he lost his round trip ticket to San Francisco and shows him a handful of change that he can give as fare. The ticket taker says, "Keep looking for the ticket, I'll be back." I think the ticket taker thought that he would let the man stay on the train for a few more stops before he had to kick him off, or the man would just leave on his own. The older man asks the man seated in the section across from him to borrow $2. But then I remember that minsoo gave me his 10-ride pass and it has 5 more rides on it. It expires on the 15th and I'm not going to use it, so I give the ticket to the older man and he and I make the trip to San Francisco together.
There's nothing like public transportation to jolt anyone out of their own bubble. Now that I drive to work in suburbia, I kinda miss the urban commute. Sure, I'm glad to be free from sitting next to someone on muni with bad B.O., standing next to a pervert who looks at you funny on the BART or sitting in the "wrong" chair -- and by this I mean one that has an unrecognizable stain or has been dampened by someone else's sweaty ass. What I do miss is the daily human contact with my fellow commuters. There's an unspoken bond that forms when the bus takes off as riders are trying to exit through the back door and everyone screams "BACK DOOR!". And yet another connection forms when you're awkwardly sharing the same pole with 5 other people.
Okay, so most of the time buses are filled with individuals who couldn't care less about the person sitting next to them or why they're even on the same bus. Even the buses and trains that are filled to the brim can be the most lonely places. But sometimes the most routine ride reminds me of our connectness as human beings.
What brings me to this reflection? Yesterday I took the caltrain up to the city for the closing night film and gala for the SF International Asian American Film Festival. About 15 minutes into my trip, an older man with a rolling wire cart enters my train. He sits down in the seat in front of me and I can hear him catching his breath. When the ticket taker comes by, the older man tells him that he lost his round trip ticket to San Francisco and shows him a handful of change that he can give as fare. The ticket taker says, "Keep looking for the ticket, I'll be back." I think the ticket taker thought that he would let the man stay on the train for a few more stops before he had to kick him off, or the man would just leave on his own. The older man asks the man seated in the section across from him to borrow $2. But then I remember that minsoo gave me his 10-ride pass and it has 5 more rides on it. It expires on the 15th and I'm not going to use it, so I give the ticket to the older man and he and I make the trip to San Francisco together.
3/13/2002
neighbors
I had hoped this day would never come. Today, my new roommate (see 2/28/02 post) has befriended the neighborhood boys. It's not that I'm against him meeting new people, it's just that I hope he never lets them into our house. Is this harsh? Um, yeah, maybe. I think these feelings stem from the fact that I know the kids on our street sell drugs and that the other day there was a very angry guy outside one of the houses on our cul-de-sac banging on the door and screaming "I know you're in there!" Maybe I'm also wary because of the white-trashness of my neighborhood. Yes, I'm intimidated by the whities and I admit it. Our house is the only "colored" house in our small cul-de-sac. We're also the one with the most women (as one of our perverted neighbors pointed out to an old roommate). Yellow and Female! Call the minority police.
Story: One night I went to pick something up from my car which was parked at the end of the cul-de-sac. On my way there, our neighbor's dog ran up to me and started growling and barking, which frightened me. When I walked back to my house, my neighbor was talking to another guy on his porch about how the dog was harmless... or so I thought. It turned out he was talking to me and when I didn't respond, he said, "Okay, well I guess you don't speak English, which makes sense." It was dark, he was portly, drunk and not wearing a shirt and I was at the door to my house when he said it so I wasn't sure whether to say anything. Fear took over and I just walked into the house.
I can't wait until it gets warm. My perverted neighbor likes to get drunk and stand in front of his big window shirtless.
I had hoped this day would never come. Today, my new roommate (see 2/28/02 post) has befriended the neighborhood boys. It's not that I'm against him meeting new people, it's just that I hope he never lets them into our house. Is this harsh? Um, yeah, maybe. I think these feelings stem from the fact that I know the kids on our street sell drugs and that the other day there was a very angry guy outside one of the houses on our cul-de-sac banging on the door and screaming "I know you're in there!" Maybe I'm also wary because of the white-trashness of my neighborhood. Yes, I'm intimidated by the whities and I admit it. Our house is the only "colored" house in our small cul-de-sac. We're also the one with the most women (as one of our perverted neighbors pointed out to an old roommate). Yellow and Female! Call the minority police.
Story: One night I went to pick something up from my car which was parked at the end of the cul-de-sac. On my way there, our neighbor's dog ran up to me and started growling and barking, which frightened me. When I walked back to my house, my neighbor was talking to another guy on his porch about how the dog was harmless... or so I thought. It turned out he was talking to me and when I didn't respond, he said, "Okay, well I guess you don't speak English, which makes sense." It was dark, he was portly, drunk and not wearing a shirt and I was at the door to my house when he said it so I wasn't sure whether to say anything. Fear took over and I just walked into the house.
I can't wait until it gets warm. My perverted neighbor likes to get drunk and stand in front of his big window shirtless.
3/12/2002
her smile
One of the newest volunteers at the Meals on Wheels program that I work with is a recent transplant from China. Despite the challenges I faced understanding her English, I really enjoyed meeting with her. She has this infectious smile that never seems to go away, even when she was telling me, with tears in her eyes, how she didn't have any money, but instead had time to give to our program.
Of course, one of the first things she asked me was if I was originally from China. Sometimes I am annoyed at the comraderie that is expected when you look into another face with small eyes and black hair. But then I realize that it's also a gift. This volunteer had such a genuine heart to serve that I wished that I could have spoken her dialect so that I could have listened to what her warm personality was trying to articulate.
Today, she returned to the office for an orientation with our program coordinator. When she saw me, immediately her face lit up and she asked me for a favor. She wanted me to write down some conversation pieces so that she would know what to say when she approched clients with their meal. She was speaking so fast and was so eager for me to e-mail these sentences for her to practice that I didn't even have the chance to assure that it didn't matter what she said to them. Her smile would speak volumes.
Working with volunteers reminds me that life is not only made up of a bunch of accomplishments, experiences and lessons learned, but is also made up of human connections, some fleeting and others long-term. While I often see the challenging aspects of volunteer coordinating, I also appreciate moments when the human spirit is so evident and the willingness to serve is so pure.
One of the newest volunteers at the Meals on Wheels program that I work with is a recent transplant from China. Despite the challenges I faced understanding her English, I really enjoyed meeting with her. She has this infectious smile that never seems to go away, even when she was telling me, with tears in her eyes, how she didn't have any money, but instead had time to give to our program.
Of course, one of the first things she asked me was if I was originally from China. Sometimes I am annoyed at the comraderie that is expected when you look into another face with small eyes and black hair. But then I realize that it's also a gift. This volunteer had such a genuine heart to serve that I wished that I could have spoken her dialect so that I could have listened to what her warm personality was trying to articulate.
Today, she returned to the office for an orientation with our program coordinator. When she saw me, immediately her face lit up and she asked me for a favor. She wanted me to write down some conversation pieces so that she would know what to say when she approched clients with their meal. She was speaking so fast and was so eager for me to e-mail these sentences for her to practice that I didn't even have the chance to assure that it didn't matter what she said to them. Her smile would speak volumes.
Working with volunteers reminds me that life is not only made up of a bunch of accomplishments, experiences and lessons learned, but is also made up of human connections, some fleeting and others long-term. While I often see the challenging aspects of volunteer coordinating, I also appreciate moments when the human spirit is so evident and the willingness to serve is so pure.
3/11/2002
star struck
Asian men. Hm. To be honest, white surfer/skater dudes were more my style before I became a born-again Asian American. Growing up in southern California, there were two choices: Those sun-kissed beach babes at my high school, or those sketchy Asian characters that hung out at that coffeehouse and drove around in their rice rockets. And just because I had to be "different", I chose the former.
That is, until recently. Now, I must admit that few Asian men truly make my toes tingle. While obvious choices like Dean Cain (who is only 1/4 yellow) and Russell Wong have definitely grabbed my attention, there are rarely any of the Asian persuasion worth noting.
But there is one type of Asian man that I absolutely adore: The cuties who look innocent enough to take home to mom while actually being unconventional, and by this I mean unconventional in their aspirations or talents. An Asian guy who makes 6-figures and drives a BMW. Impressive, yes, but YAWN. An Asian guy who sings, dances and acts all while looking like the cute boy who used to sit next to you in calculus... Oh yeah.
Yes, my minsoo is all that and more. But so is the star of a recent film I saw at the Asian American film festival. It's not that he was foxy or anything. Something about him (maybe the fact that I had just seen him on the big screen) just made me blush when talking to him. I suddenly lost all hopes of speaking in complete sentences. All I could do was smile and hold out my poster for him to sign. It was pathetic. Minsoo thought it was hysterical. It also turns out that he knows Minsoo through his angry asian man page. Wow. I was so proud.
So yes, I'll admit that those hunky Asian Alpha males are very hot. But give me one of those baby-faced alternative Asian boys anytime. Mm-hm.
Asian men. Hm. To be honest, white surfer/skater dudes were more my style before I became a born-again Asian American. Growing up in southern California, there were two choices: Those sun-kissed beach babes at my high school, or those sketchy Asian characters that hung out at that coffeehouse and drove around in their rice rockets. And just because I had to be "different", I chose the former.
That is, until recently. Now, I must admit that few Asian men truly make my toes tingle. While obvious choices like Dean Cain (who is only 1/4 yellow) and Russell Wong have definitely grabbed my attention, there are rarely any of the Asian persuasion worth noting.
But there is one type of Asian man that I absolutely adore: The cuties who look innocent enough to take home to mom while actually being unconventional, and by this I mean unconventional in their aspirations or talents. An Asian guy who makes 6-figures and drives a BMW. Impressive, yes, but YAWN. An Asian guy who sings, dances and acts all while looking like the cute boy who used to sit next to you in calculus... Oh yeah.
Yes, my minsoo is all that and more. But so is the star of a recent film I saw at the Asian American film festival. It's not that he was foxy or anything. Something about him (maybe the fact that I had just seen him on the big screen) just made me blush when talking to him. I suddenly lost all hopes of speaking in complete sentences. All I could do was smile and hold out my poster for him to sign. It was pathetic. Minsoo thought it was hysterical. It also turns out that he knows Minsoo through his angry asian man page. Wow. I was so proud.
So yes, I'll admit that those hunky Asian Alpha males are very hot. But give me one of those baby-faced alternative Asian boys anytime. Mm-hm.
3/05/2002
the straight story
My new roommate is a curious boy. Over dinner (I had rice with tofu and vegetable stirfry, while he ate a left-over sandwich), he wanted to know about my other roommate (we'll call her "J") and my love life. Here's the dialogue:
him: So how long have you been dating?
me: Um, a year and 9 months... actually yesterday was our anniversary. Ha.
him: Oh! Does "J" have a boyfriend?
me: Nope.
him: (small laugh) Um, yeah, because I was wondering.... is "J" a, um, a lesbian?
....WHAT????.....
me: (almost choking on my rice) Hahahaha, um, no.
him: Yeah, well it's because her friend was over this weekend and they were kind of cuddly.
me: That's my old roommate. They're friends. I've known her since 4th grade. She's not a lesbian either.
him: Oh, okay. (laughing sheepishly)
The rest of that evening, I kept thinking about it and laughing outloud. Hi-lar-ious.
This is definitely NOT a conversation I will relay to my straight roommate. I don't think she'll appreciate the humor in it like I did.
Today, he asked both of us for some "girl" advice. I'm wondering if he needed to confirm "J's" sexual orientation before asking for dating advice. It's ironic because I think "J's" a lot more heterosexual (emphasis on sexual) than I am.
My new roommate is a curious boy. Over dinner (I had rice with tofu and vegetable stirfry, while he ate a left-over sandwich), he wanted to know about my other roommate (we'll call her "J") and my love life. Here's the dialogue:
him: So how long have you been dating?
me: Um, a year and 9 months... actually yesterday was our anniversary. Ha.
him: Oh! Does "J" have a boyfriend?
me: Nope.
him: (small laugh) Um, yeah, because I was wondering.... is "J" a, um, a lesbian?
....WHAT????.....
me: (almost choking on my rice) Hahahaha, um, no.
him: Yeah, well it's because her friend was over this weekend and they were kind of cuddly.
me: That's my old roommate. They're friends. I've known her since 4th grade. She's not a lesbian either.
him: Oh, okay. (laughing sheepishly)
The rest of that evening, I kept thinking about it and laughing outloud. Hi-lar-ious.
This is definitely NOT a conversation I will relay to my straight roommate. I don't think she'll appreciate the humor in it like I did.
Today, he asked both of us for some "girl" advice. I'm wondering if he needed to confirm "J's" sexual orientation before asking for dating advice. It's ironic because I think "J's" a lot more heterosexual (emphasis on sexual) than I am.
3/03/2002
thanks mom
After writing the perspective piece on "Flower Drum Song", I received a few kudos from family friends who enjoyed the article. It turns out that my mom has just learned how to use the "forward" button on her eudora mail system (ah, technology) and decided to practice this new skill by forwarding the e-mail I sent her with the link to my story. I got a kick out of these e-mails so I thought I'd share them.
From my "Uncle" Barry (my uncle's roommate):
[note: The e-mail was entitled "Flower Drum Suey!"]
Howdy,
Jon sent me the link to your article. This is very cool my dear. To think, before I met all of you, I used to think Chop Suey was Chinese food. No wonder I never cared for it much back then. I don't think any group ever got a realistic representation in film back then. Even White people, though they dominated most of the movies, came off as some McCarthy era stereotype. Most TV shows are still doing that today. I've yet to see "me" represented in any form of media. Maybe that is a good thing. I just wanted to let you know that I'm very proud of you, and I hope to see more great stuff. You are just getting started.
Peace,
Uncle Barry
This from a man who used to only speak to me and my sister in his Donald Duck voice.
From my Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Stuart:
Your article sounded like a visit to our family get togethers....often times the young ones...our sons and daughters...are agast at some of the things that we did and believed in...but like your family, we usually meet somewhere in the middle and still manage to love each other!!! Really enjoyed your article.......my sister and I also KNOW ALL OF THE WORDS TO THE FLOWER DRUM SONG!!! It was one of my very favorite movies and the actors were like good friends..guess we saw it that many times!!! I enjoyed the trip down that memory lane thing!!! Hope all is well with you!!! Guess I will have to go back to the "she must have had a GREAT KINDERGARTEN TEACHER"....look how well she has done!!!
No wonder your Mom constantly brags about you!!
Keep in touch..
Joan Stuart
Thanks, Mrs. Stuart... and thank you for teaching me how to write "properly" with my left hand!
Both of my new "fans" are white... and I love them despite it ;) I was so encouraged by these e-mails. It's always affirming to know that there are people out there who are always rooting for me. While I was initially really embarrassed that my mom had exposed my latest writing effort to everyone she knows, I'm grateful for the kind words.
So I guess I should say: Thanks, mom. You were right... as always.
After writing the perspective piece on "Flower Drum Song", I received a few kudos from family friends who enjoyed the article. It turns out that my mom has just learned how to use the "forward" button on her eudora mail system (ah, technology) and decided to practice this new skill by forwarding the e-mail I sent her with the link to my story. I got a kick out of these e-mails so I thought I'd share them.
From my "Uncle" Barry (my uncle's roommate):
[note: The e-mail was entitled "Flower Drum Suey!"]
Howdy,
Jon sent me the link to your article. This is very cool my dear. To think, before I met all of you, I used to think Chop Suey was Chinese food. No wonder I never cared for it much back then. I don't think any group ever got a realistic representation in film back then. Even White people, though they dominated most of the movies, came off as some McCarthy era stereotype. Most TV shows are still doing that today. I've yet to see "me" represented in any form of media. Maybe that is a good thing. I just wanted to let you know that I'm very proud of you, and I hope to see more great stuff. You are just getting started.
Peace,
Uncle Barry
This from a man who used to only speak to me and my sister in his Donald Duck voice.
From my Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Stuart:
Your article sounded like a visit to our family get togethers....often times the young ones...our sons and daughters...are agast at some of the things that we did and believed in...but like your family, we usually meet somewhere in the middle and still manage to love each other!!! Really enjoyed your article.......my sister and I also KNOW ALL OF THE WORDS TO THE FLOWER DRUM SONG!!! It was one of my very favorite movies and the actors were like good friends..guess we saw it that many times!!! I enjoyed the trip down that memory lane thing!!! Hope all is well with you!!! Guess I will have to go back to the "she must have had a GREAT KINDERGARTEN TEACHER"....look how well she has done!!!
No wonder your Mom constantly brags about you!!
Keep in touch..
Joan Stuart
Thanks, Mrs. Stuart... and thank you for teaching me how to write "properly" with my left hand!
Both of my new "fans" are white... and I love them despite it ;) I was so encouraged by these e-mails. It's always affirming to know that there are people out there who are always rooting for me. While I was initially really embarrassed that my mom had exposed my latest writing effort to everyone she knows, I'm grateful for the kind words.
So I guess I should say: Thanks, mom. You were right... as always.
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