Category — Who He Was/Who She Was

I have a friend who sometimes goes by Ronaldo. Of the immense number of people I have come to know this year, he is one of the most interesting, and most honest. I have been fortunate enough to catch slices of insight into his world upon occasion. This is usually when one of his friends from the old neighborhood and the old life, comes to visit. At those times, a stress-filled day dissolves into a laughter-filled night. Memories are always recalled and stories are always shared.

I get to peek into this world that I know a lot about, but have never experienced. Ronaldo comes from an amazing family, but most of his friends don’t. He’s fortunate to study at a college, hold a reputable internship and maintain a close network of people that he trusts. He also firmly believes that luck played a major role in his status. Ronaldo certainly doesn’t walk on eggshells but he knows that odds were against him ending up here.

During the interview Ronaldo shared a string of stories that exemplified how he grew up and why he now feels so lucky. He dealt drugs at the age of eleven, went to rehab in Peru at the age of eighteen and at the age of nineteen, he was stabbed in the back four times. He saw the fabled “white light” but didn’t buy it, and came out a slightly more scarred, and significantly more contemplative adult. Being friends with Ronaldo comes naturally; he’s lighthearted, funny, intelligent and interesting. However, his past is scarred with instances of extreme violence, serious regret and long periods of recovery.

I find most of Ronaldo’s stories fascinating, but what’s really peculiar is the deep love and respect he has for his family. He always stresses, over and over, how great they were to him, how they are fabulous role models and how they are the people he cares for most in the world. At the same time, Ronaldo firmly believes that you are most likely to end up in a situation similar to the one that you begin in. This would mean that what has happened in Ronaldo’s life is mostly his own fault. He seems okay with this, which is unique among most people nowadays. It is easy to blame other people, society or a situation for your status quo, it is far more difficult to accept credit for ending up where you have, no matter how bad the place is.

Ronaldo’s deep conscious has guided him back to a better place. In America the average age of a drug dealer is twenty, and by twenty-one they are either dead or incarcerated. Ronaldo is a mathematical person but he doesn’t want to become a statistic. I don’t think he’s a role model just yet, but fifteen years down the line he very well may be. He says that he’s not sure if it’s just luck or if the harder you work, the luckier you get. Either way, luck is involved. Ronaldo resents the idea of being trapped in stereotypes and statistics and is an example of how anyone can become anything, at any time, in America.

Interview with Ronaldo

**This edited interview is nearly twenty minutes long, it’s fascinating and I highly recommend listening to the entire piece, but for the sake of class time I will only be sharing a portion.**

Syd Miori Gion was born March 3^rd, 1991 in Honolulu, Hawaii. As a child, she always loved when her birthday rolled around, because March 3^rd is what is known as “hinamatsuri”, or “Girl’s Day” in Japan. The Japanese influence in Hawaii is huge, so every year on her birthday, the boys in her class had to give chocolates or other sweets to the girls. She supposes it is akin to being born on Valentine’s Day. Japanese culture has always been a large part of Syd’s life. Her mother was born in Okinawa, Japan, and moved to Hawaii in the 1980s. She grew up eating many Japanese foods and speaking a strange mix of Japanese and Hawaiian, which escaped her as she grew older and started to attend a private school that focused on English. Her father’s ethnic background is massive; he is Irish, French, Chinese, Cherokee, and Filipino. Everyone in Hawaii is happa, or “half”, usually Japanese and something else. Looking at Syd, it is absolutely impossible to commit her to one single ethnicity, and she is proud of this fact.

Syd loves the lack of distinction about race that exists in Hawaii, and the deep bond the people share from the unique culture. She notes that because it is impossible to know what exactly people are, it is impossible to discriminate against them. That equality, which she did not notice until she came to New York, is one thing she greatly values about her culture. Another thing she loves about her culture is the large sense of family. The Disney movie, Lilo and Stitch, about a Hawaiian girl and her alien friend, greatly emphasizes the importance of family. This emphasis is completely accurate, according to Syd. One of the hardest things about leaving Hawaii for Syd was leaving her family. Before she left, she got her brother’s name tattooed across on her chest, where her heart is. She understands that many people find this strange, but she does not mind. Without her younger brother, Syd has no idea where she would be. He is her rock, the boat in a large, dark sea.

She misses the warmth that comes from everyone in Hawaii, but she feels that she had to leave. There was simply too much familiarity for her. Days blurred into weeks and weeks blurred into years. There is only a certain amount of beach and beauty and nature a person can take, she thought. She needed a change. And coming to New York City was certainly a huge change for her. She found herself thrown into a concrete jungle, where she felt everyone was more well-read, well-listened, and overall more intelligent than her. She felt inferior. It took her a while to realize that, while she may not understand discussions about the stock market or have anything to contribute to a discussion about the latest Broadway attraction, she was more empathetic, perceptive, and unique than most. Because everyone in Hawaii must be nice, less a bad rumor starts and quickly spreads around the island, Syd is like a sponge that can soak up bad energy and turn any situation around. She has an excellent talent at reading people and making them happy.

She plans to use this natural talent in her career, and is studying psychology at the New School. Although she knows that the New School has a reputation of being “a fake college”, she does not let this bother her. She attends her classes earnestly while balancing her part time job at Sunrise Mart. Syd is always trying new things, going through one phase after another, but never truly losing her sense of self. Syd is incredibly confident, but not cocky. She simply understands what she is and what she is not. And she understands well what other people are and what they are not, and accepts them for it, whole-heartedly. Syd does everything whole-heartedly. She always wants to push her boundaries, and dives into things headfirst. She has been vegan for the past six months, just to see if she can. She loves to test herself, and never minds when she fails. She understands that she is simply incapable of some things, and moves on to find something else she can accomplish.

Syd believes that growing up in Hawaii has made her less intellectual than the everyday New Yorker, but she has a large knowledge of philosophy, history of many cultures, and literature. She has the amusing talent of being able to memorize a song when she hears it only once, and she sings and dances always. There is always music in her head, she says. She loves music, and musical theater. Her dream in life is to have everyone around her suddenly break out into song, performing a dance number in the streets like in a musical. If that happens, she says, her life would be complete; she could leave the earth then, as there would be nothing else to live for. Until then, however, she will keep living on, with her Hawaiian culture in her heart and the dizzying New York City life on her mind, putting her soul into everything.

Forever Waiting

Background

In 1984 Indira Gandhi’s decision to proceed with Operation Blue Star, which led to open fire at the Golden Temple in Punjab, caused India to plunge into complete turmoil.  Her decision resulted in an attack on the holiest Sikh location in India, and the death of hundreds of Sikhs; this rooted a deep desire for revenge amongst Sikhs.  In response to the atrocity that she was largely responsible for, Indira Gandhi’s two trusted Sikh bodyguards shot her to death.  After this shooting, all hell broke loose, as both Hindu and Sikh extremists became more and more violent.  In rural areas of Punjab, violence occurred on a much smaller level, due to the fact that it was a primarily Sikh area.  However as time went by, the Indian Police began killing many young Sikh men, accusing them of being extremists, even though most of them were innocent.  This left only two options for many young men all over the state of Punjab; either leave their families behind and go abroad, or stay and live a refugee lifestyle with a group of young men also on the run, looking for revenge; otherwise referred to as the extremists.

This is the reason my dad came to America, leaving behind his family, and most importantly his mother, whom he loved more than anyone. The following is a story, which my dad has told me so many times, that it feels as if I was actually there to witness every moment.

Leaving

“Bang! Bang!” The gate rattled furiously, as the butt of the police officer’s gun clashed with the metal gate, echoing for what felt like an eternity.  As my grandma opened the gate, a group of police officers stood there in their khaki uniforms, with their guns in hand.  They resembled a pack of wild dogs, drooling for the chance to pull the trigger, and pocket some extra cash.  Without asking for permission, they ran into the house, searching for any “suspected extremists”.  Failing to find anyone, the lead officer stormed out of the house barking out curses, while his pack followed behind him.

“It’s no longer safe for you to stay here Joginder.  The Police came again today, and who knows when they will show up next,” my grandma said to my dad when he returned home from Kabaddi (Indian sport) practice.  “Please listen to me, and meet with the travel agent tomorrow.”

“Where am I supposed to go? Do you just want me to leave you here?” he asked her rhetorically.  Without knowing, my dad had raised his voice.  He noticed that his mom, who rarely cried, was now tearing, so not wanting to upset his mom even more, he decided to meet with the agent.  After all, he thought, she only wanted what was best for him.  In a couple of days, the agent made the plans, and found a flight to take my father to Germany.

A few weeks later, as he was leaving for the airport my dad made a promise to his mother, saying that he would return to her as soon as possible.  He didn’t know what to expect from this new land he was heading to, but whatever it was, he had no choice but to accept it.  Both were victims of circumstance; never did he imagine that he would leave his mother to live in a foreign land, and never did my grandma think that she would send off her son so far away.

“I will be waiting for you” she responded to his promise in tears.  As she watched him leave, little did she know that it would be the last time that she would see her youngest son.

Foreign Lands

My dad spent the next two years living in Germany.  He worked five days a week, and sent back money to his mother every month.  He enjoyed his time there, but didn’t see any opportunity to grow.  So, when he discovered an opportunity to go to New York City he quickly jumped on board.  By this time, the hostile atmosphere in India had also cooled significantly, and my grandma would often ask my dad how much longer she would have to wait to see him.  Not wanting to miss out on the opportunity to go to America, he kept extending his promise, telling her that he would only be in America for a year or so, and that he would return soon after.

In New York City, a group of his brother’s friends took him in and introduced him to the trucking business.  “I’m only here for a year or two, and then I’m going to return to India” he told his brother’s friends when he first got here.

When they heard this, they both exploded in laughter.  “That’s what we all say when we get here, but when the money starts coming in, things change,” one of them responded.  “We’ll discuss this in a year or two.”

After driving a truck for a friend for a few months, he branched off and started to buy his own trucks.  As his business expanded, the chances of him returning to his mother decreased more and more.  He continued to talk to his mom and he continued to tell her that it was only a matter of months before he returned.  However as time passed by, and his business expanded, these few months became a few years. Soon, his mother passed away, and he was shattered emotionally.  Ever since then, he hasn’t forgiven himself; like the others he too became an addict of this drug called opportunity, and because of it he lost sight of what was most important.

While he sits in his leather office chair and slowly falls into a daydream, he often thinks of her.  He thinks of her unconditional love, all the things she did for him, and most of all the promise that he had failed to fulfill. He regrets the fact that he let himself become so vulnerable to wealth and success that he couldn’t even return home to visit his mother.  Now, he goes back to India almost every year, because he says that it is the only place where he can feel his mother’s presence.  He almost feels as if she’s still waiting for him.  Whenever I’m in an argument with my mom, he always tells me “Your mother is the only person who will be there for you no matter what, so never, ever take her for granted.”

Links for images

http://www.zakatindia.org/Files/indian_flag.jpg

http://im.videosearch.rediff.com/thumbImage/videoImages/videoImages1/youtube/rdhash836/zMYV-0eGjHk.gif

http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_orHurCodGB8/SyB3P2MbcSI/AAAAAAAAEN4/4JlMgt1tbrw/s400/5.jpg

http://www.german-flag.org/rippled-german-flag-720.jpg

http://www.uncoverage.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/american-flag-2a11.jpg

Who She Was

Lynette Dimaculangan: a New York City resident currently juggling three full-time jobs as a nurse, mother and wife. However, this was not the type of profile her 17-year-old self would have expected for the future. In her youth, she was the spotlight of attention, whether she was around family, friends or schoolmates. She played Romeo in her all girls Catholic high school’s annual play and during the yearly village-wide celebrations that take place in the Philippines, known as the fiesta, she would sing on stage for all her town to watch. She had told her parents that she aspired to be a doctor, but secretly longed to be a singer.

Then, in the 1980s, just as she turned 18, the immigration of young Filipino singers to Japan became a rising trend. She sought an opportunity to be a part of this movement, and without hesitation, auditioned for a talent agency seeking Filipinas to travel abroad and perform. The eldest of ten children, she realized that this chance to become a singer would not only fulfill her dreams, but also her duty to give back to her parents and help them out financially. She began taking vocal lessons to improve her skills and mustered a great deal of enthusiasm from her younger siblings. Both her mother and father supported her endeavor to move to Japan, but an unexpected change in her life made her question the path that she wanted to follow.

She was not searching for anything of the sort when she first met him. A relationship seemed irrelevant, if not obstructive to her goals. But love, Lynette says, cannot be planned. She and her boyfriend started spending most of their days together. At the time their romance first began to blossom, she was set on leaving the Philippines to launch a modest career as a singer in Japan. Although she had intended to do this both for herself and her struggling family, she could not find the strength to leave her new love. The two options in front of her sparked an internal battle that she struggled with for two months. To stay or to go? She could not bring herself to decide. Surprisingly, her parents did not push her in either direction. Without the pressure to pursue this opportunity abroad, in the end, she chose her boyfriend over her love for singing.

In letting go of this chance to help provide for her family and gain independence, Lynette felt as if she had taken a great risk. Perhaps moving towards change creates a deep sense of uncertainty, but she realized that sometimes, maintaining the status quo is a gamble as well. She admits that for a while, she was afraid that she had made the wrong decision. She did not know if her boyfriend was “the one” or if her parents could continue making ends meet for their exceptionally large family. She envied the other young ladies who were making their own money abroad and wondered how she could have let such an opportunity slip from her fingers. However, she soon came to see that as a teenager, she still belonged at home, near those dearest to her. She was dependent on the comfort her family provided and the familiarity of her small town.

She later heard stories from her friend in Japan that many of the young Filipino women were lured into the lucrative world of prostitution. After listening to dramatic reports from her friend, she was thankful that she had decided to stay; her family and boyfriend were too. Although eventually, she would venture into new lands on her own, from this experience, Lynette learned that sometimes, things do happen for a reason. She also realized that an opportunity might not always be the best opportunity for a person if one is not ready to confront the challenges that accompany it. Although she never did pursue her dreams of becoming a singer, Lynette says with confidence that she has no regrets.

Photo Credits:

http://www.hcteurope.com/japan/travel.htm

http://www.webresourcesdepot.com/photoshop-heart-brushes-collection/

http://www.ottsworld.com/blogs/travel-to-mongolia/

http://www.faqs.org/photo-dict/phrase/930/gamble.html

whoshewas

**It was the request of my interviewee that I keep their name anonymous in the writing of this project. To keep their identity private, I will use the name, Jackie Ross, in place of her real name. That is neither her first nor last name.**

Alcohol and drugs are often things that play a major role in the self-destruction of one’s life. The ability to overcome those types of addictions is amazing in itself and it is a feat that it is often extremely difficult for people to do. For my podcast, I will tell the story of my Aunt Jackie and how for a major part of her life she battled an addiction of both drugs and alcohol, but how that addiction has made her to be a better person today. This is a somewhat sensitive subject to her though, being that I have lived in the same house with her for eighteen years and even I had never heard about her story until this assignment was given.

Growing up as one of ten children in an Irish family, Jackie Ross didn’t always connect well with her family. She wasn’t one of the youngest in the family. She wasn’t one of the oldest. She was the fifth child born and often did her own thing in the household. She said how she was the quiet one in the family and at times was very insecure about herself. This led to her drinking at an early age. She had her first beer at the age of twelve and she immediately liked the feeling it gave her. She said that alcohol helped her cope with her insecurities with school and home. Around the age of fourteen, she started going to bars every weekend. The drinking age was eighteen back then. Her drinking habits got to a point where her life revolved around alcohol. She didn’t want to do anything if it meant she couldn’t drink. She compared her life to my life in Macaulay. She said that if her class ever went to Broadway shows back then, she wouldn’t have gone…because that would require her to be sober, and she didn’t see that as a possibility.

After a few years of drinking, my Aunt Jackie came upon drugs and became hooked on it. She said that cocaine eventually went hand in hand with alcohol. If she did one without the other, she wouldn’t feel complete. It was around this time when she started getting massive hangovers every morning. She said she would throw up a few times a week and be sick basically all the time. Jackie knew it was a problem but couldn’t find it in herself to quit. She tried multiple times to stop but it wouldn’t work. It just made her crave drugs and alcohol more.

It wasn’t until Jackie Ross went to Brooklyn College to get her Master’s Degree in 1987 where she eventually made a transformation. She was failing in school and had gotten fired from her part-time job at a corner grocery store. She came to a realization that she literally could not go on living like this anymore. She felt if she stuck with her drinking and drug abuse, she would end up dying at a very early age. That sudden self-actualization and I guess you can say, “epiphany”, changed her life. Jackie went to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings for several months afterward and eventually moved past her struggles and overcame them. She noticed a difference in her life right away. She became an overall happier person once she quit and became better for it. She ended up getting her Master’s degree and landing a good job at Baruch College where she remains today.

It was in 1989 where she finally quit all drugs and alcohol and hasn’t consumed any since. Jackie Ross described herself as being a selfish person at the earlier stages in her life. She almost lost her family and herself. But with her recovery and experiences, she says she is a better person for having gone through it all. And although she admits that these are mistakes in her life she is not happy about, she does not regret them. It has made her a much stronger person, both physically and mentally. She says how today she loves the feeling of not being tempted in the slightest to drink alcohol and she has her past to thank for that. My Aunt Jackie ended the interview humorously by saying how now when she goes out to restaurants and travels, she doesn’t have to buy $15 drinks that are being served. Plus, it keeps the calories away!

Podcast

I am going to tell you all a story about my mom, Anna Maria Isabella Theresa Gallo. Even though her life is full of meaningful, sometimes, historical events, like my birth, I chose the following story because it sums up what kind of person my mom really is. But, the only way I can tell you this particular story is if I first give you all a summary of who my Mom’s family are and what they are like.

My mom’s father, my grandpa, first came to America during World War II. He was part of the Italian Merchant Marines, when one day the ship he was on docked in NY harbor. After leaving the ship to explore New York he realized he never wanted to go back to Italy again. He never stepped back on that ship and soon found himself an illegal immigrant living in a strange new world. Eventually he found a Sicilian wife and they settled down in the Bronx. They had two children, the older one, Anna, my mom, while the younger one, Ralph, was my Uncle. Eventually they moved to Oakland Gardens, Queens. My mom and uncle always like to tell stories about how old fashioned my grandpa was. I do not know how true they are, all I know is that even if half of the stories are true I would never trade my parents for him. My grandpa had narrow views on marriage. According to them many of the backwards things he believed was that women should not go to college and that they were actually inferior to men.

By the time my mom was a senior at Cardozo High School it started to look like she would be the first person to graduate in her family. My grandpa wanted my uncle to continue his education after high school, but that dream was crushed when my uncle was expelled from school during his sophomore year. Every time I ask about how my uncle got expelled I get a different answer. These answers range from selling drugs to being involved in a race riot.

By the time my mom graduated high school in 1973, it looked as though her future was set in stone. She was attending Queens Community College and was only nineteen years old when a young man named Joseph Deluvio asked her to marry him. This man is not my father and my mom never married him. This man, my mom’s first fiancé was in line to own a pizzeria that his father owned, and according to my mom, his family was already well off. She even hinted to me that some of the money did not come from the pizza. My mom does not remember much from those lost years, but what she does remember is what happened afterwards.

During her junior year of college she dropped out so that she could plan her wedding. But, by the summer of that year my mom realized she did not want to marry this man. After her fiancé caught my mom in a “lie” she decided that she could not marry a man that checked up on her and worried about “things that were so petty.” She broke off the plans for the wedding and for the next six months spent her time in Europe in order to find herself. She told me that she learned two things during her time in Europe, “life is for the living,” and “Americans have better bathrooms, but Europeans have better chocolate.”

When she came back to America she moved out of her parents house and bought an apartment in Astoria. Back then Astoria was a cheap neighborhood, but it was not cheap enough for my mom to afford. Her ex-fiancé, in an act of goodwill helped my mother make her first steps on her own. She started to work for Morgan Stanley as an Administrative Assistant in order to make ends meet, and in the next year or two was back at school. She reenrolled at Hunter and worked nights to pay for the tuition.  My mom told me why she did not ask her father for the tuition, “I was on my own,” she said, “And it’s not like he cared about my education… He even had the nerve to ask me once why I was even going to college.” One year after reenrolling my mom became the first person in her family to graduate from college.

With no guidance counselor, precedence, or encouragement, my mom decided that a Bachelors degree was not good enough for what she wanted to be, it was then that she decided to get her Masters degree in Social Work at NYU. Even back then the price of admission to NYU would give people heart attacks. What was my mom thinking when she decided to take out large student loans and work long nights for a social work degree, a degree, considered by many to have no monetary value? The answer is that my mom wanted to be a psychotherapist and she was not going to let money get in her way. Even though a PhD. in Psychology was also an option, my mom decided that it was better for her to become a psychotherapist, and getting a Masters in social work would be the most economical and fastest way to start her career. Even though Psychologists get paid more my mom just wanted to treat and help people.

It was during her time in graduate school that she met my dad, who was a younger graduate student studying social work at Columbia. But, that is the beginning of another part of my mom’s life, something that would not fit into this essay and will have to be told on another day.

LINK: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujgJ86R2vW8

For generations, Buddhism was taught on my mother’s side; my grandmother was brought up under a mother who was a very religious Buddhist. My great-grandmother made sure to raise her eight children, especially my grandmother and great uncle, to be kind to everyone around them, to not discriminate, to give back to the community, and to have good morals. Within her household, she would burn incense and pray to Buddha. She taught her children to help others in need and never ask for anything in return; she would set examples by helping fellow neighbors with their groceries and babysitting their children and having my great-grandfather help with mechanical repairs in their homes.

When she passed away, during her burial, my grandmother and my great uncle swore they witnessed a white light shoot out from the ground and into the sky. My great uncle had a revelation and knew that this sign was a calling to pursue Buddhism. Immediately, he gave up his career as a successful veterinarian and started attending meetings with other Buddhists and their master.

He attended weekly meetings and started to pray, and soon he was a devout Buddhist. He stopped spending money in excess and increased his volunteering time at his local hospital and soup kitchens. Every time he passed by a non-profit organization that was fundraising, such as the Salvation Army or the American Cancer Society, he donated whatever money he had in his wallet. He was taught that giving and expecting nothing in return was the way his life should be, for his mother taught him that that was the correct path to being useful in the world. He met many other followers of Buddha and networked all over the world. He followed his master wherever he went to teach Buddhism. Soon, he became almost like his master’s shadow because he gained so much knowledge.

Over time, he grew in rank and knowledge and was elected and won title of master and took over the position of teaching his followers the way of Buddhism. It became my great uncle’s mission in life to spread the religion and values of Buddhism. He sacrificed his social life, and kept his wife and children at home while he travelled the world to enlighten people about Buddhism. He sincerely believes his association with Buddhism has helped his family: previous business investments have prospered and his followers all have good fortune and comfortable lives.

When he travels he does not preach for people to convert to Buddhism, but instead stresses the importance of doing good for others; Buddhists believe that giving to others will result in good returns. He encourages people to become vegetarian because he believes that animals who are killed for their meat have done nothing wrong to cause their deaths and that it is sinful to deprive anything of its life. He chose to become vegetarian and now avoids meat, as well as garlic and scallion in the belief that they have contents that make people’s tempers irritable.

My great uncle believed that the light coming from his mother’s grave was the turning point in his life because he completely changed the direction he was going in. As a veterinarian, he still felt as if he did not serve great enough purpose, and wanted a chance to help people on a greater scale than merely taking care of their pets. He would volunteer at places such as hospitals and soup kitchens, but he wanted to do more. By converting to Buddhism, he believes his life is more meaningful, and he wishes to spread not just the religion of Buddhism, but the act of giving and helping out other people not for the sake of good fortune but for the sake of being selfless and philanthropic. He has taught families to be strict on teaching their children the values of respect to others and treating others the way they want to be treated in order for them to grow up to be good people.

Image Credits:

https://anitagrant.com/images/stories/Blog/GivingBackjpgTxt.jpg

http://mhtgifts.com/zencart/images/38697.jpg

http://www.sitepoint.com/blogs/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/volunteer.jpg

http://kingdomofstyle.typepad.co.uk/my_weblog/images/2008/02/24/dsc03478.jpg

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3534/3910881987_715bda3c78_z.jpg

http://coloring.thecolor.com/color/images/Veterinarian.gif

http://i157.photobucket.com/albums/t73/amerbud/The_Sangha.jpg

http://cdn.wn.com/pd/e4/83/90aca8140974e45d2b3b7976e67f_grande.jpg

http://www.dagamite.com/images/small%20world%20travel%20logo.jpg

http://top-10-list.org/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/Buddhism.jpg

http://www.criticalbench.com/images/muscle-vegetarian1.jpg

http://yeahthatskosher.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/no-meat.jpg

http://azahar-sevilla.com/sevilletapas/wp-content/uploads/2007/10/vegetables.jpg

http://images.fanpop.com/images/image_uploads/Vegetarian-vegetarians-572517_800_285.gif

http://middlepath.com.au/qol/img/happiness09_help-others.jpg

http://library.geneseo.edu/~kdhoffman/Critical_Thinking.jpg

http://www.tranquilitytrail.org/images/volunteer_clip_art_v3bi.gif

http://religions.iloveindia.com/images/buddhism.jpg

http://worldreligion.nielsonpi.com/media/buddhism.jpg

http://www.writespirit.net/image/kedar/golden-buddha

http://i.ehow.com/images/a04/jl/t5/raise-polite-child-200X200.jpg

Podcast

Hey everyone, this is Leon Baburov and today, I traveled through the depths of the Internet and plunged into the hacking world. My interview was done on a hacker who preferred to be called “Johnny Quest.” I came across Quest in my search for a hacker to interview. He was by far the nicest person on the mass-internet-relay-chat server that the hacker channels were hosted on. I later found out that the server actually belonged to him.

My first question to Quest was a simple one: “At what age were you drawn to hacking?”
Quest said that it depends on my definition of hacking, so it was when he was either 12 or 16 years old.

This begged the follow-up question: “What do you define as hacking?” I asked this because everyone has their own, personal definition. Quest replied: “What is commonly referred to as ‘hacking,’ would be more accurately classified as ‘computer hacking.’ Social engineering is a type of hacking too, but it’s ‘people hacking.’ If you’re a really good mechanic, and can do crazy things with a car’s engine, perhaps you’d be an ‘auto hacker.’ What I would define as hacking very roughly is the search for a way to use things in unexpected or unplanned ways.”
Quest then proceeded to answer what drew him to hacking in the first place, especially at such a young age.

He really likes knowing how things work, and takes things apart in search of this knowledge. He likes puzzles and the reason what computers and computer hacking appealed to him so much was because they allowed him to do most of what he wanted for free, because it was all online. He could also work at his own pace, and wasn’t held back by a slow teacher or class.
When asked what he saw himself doing in five years, he replied very vaguely “probably more of the same: working and playing with my computers at home.” I politely asked him to elaborate, even though he was clearly trying to keep most of his personal life a secret to maintain his anonymous identity. He replied that he spends a lot of time on the computer – who could’ve guessed! He has around twelve computers and they require a lot of maintenance. He writes a lot of code just for fun, doesn’t play video games, and spends most of his time just experimenting. “I like puzzles.” He repeated again. “It’s like those kids who play with rubix cubes all day… all four of them. Writing code is like building with LEGOs though, and since I’m not doing it for school/work, I can do whatever I want: games, apps for personal stuff, hacking experiments. My biggest problem is that I don’t have enough time to do all that.”

Well, Johnny Quest was certainly an interesting individual, and one who I learned much more about from this interview. It gave me, and hopefully you guys as well, a different perspective into what hacking is about. Thank you all, and thank you, Johnny Quest for the new insights!

Who He_She Was

In 1978 China passed a policy that would change the way families and males are seen in the Chinese family. It was a policy aimed at the controlling the population of China, and it is a policy that is still in affect to this day. The One Child Policy officially restricted families to one child and any family with more than one would be exempt from many privileges and taxed heavily. My mom recalls the affects that this policy had on surrounding families in her province. She was born in Wen Zhou, a small farming province that recently has undergone urbanization. Her family was not directly affected by this policy because she and her siblings were born before the one child policy took affect; however, later on in her life she would be directly faced with the consequences of the one child policy.

My mom gave birth to my brother in 1986 in Hong Kong and I would be born five years later in 1992. From the beginning my mom knew this would create many problems for our family. My mother’s family was never a rich family and was struggling to keep their farm. She decided to send me to my grandmother’s farm for her take care of me, as my mom decided what to do. My earliest memories were of my grandmother and it was not until I was three years old that I met my direct family. The encounter was abrupt as my mom snatched me from my grandmother’s arm and dragged me to the airport to quickly board the plane, this was my first encounter with my mom. I thought she was a cruel woman to steal me away from my grandparents. The plane was heading for the United States and for most of my life I had believed that the move to the United States was a curt decision.

It was only recently in this interview with my mom did I discover the true decision for sudden change in my life. My mom said that her family was negatively affected by the one child policy. The government had exempt our family from many privileges such as higher education and increased our taxes dramatically. At the family’s current state they could not afford to have a second child. In fact she had claimed that she never intended to have another son and had in fact wanted to stop at one child. At the time Hong Kong was exempt from the one child policy and she told me that our family moved to Hong Kong briefly. During my stay with my grandmother my mom formulated a plan to move to the United States to avoid the one child policy. It was a decision that would dramatically change her life and our family’s life as well. Her life was based in China and her entire family was there as well. For her to move would be a huge sacrifice. It truly takes a large amount of character for anyone to agree to throw away more than thirty years of his or her life to start a new one in a foreign land. My mom told me this was an about face moment, where she pushed herself to do something she never had the courage to do. For much of her life she had been a traditional person that relied on the bond of family to help her thrive in life. During the moment of her decision to move, she said that she felt a new courage she did not know existed in her. She said when she got on the plane she pushed our family to quickly go on and not look back because our family would be starting a new life.

Even during her stay in the United States her courage stayed with her. My said adjusting to an American life style was difficult and often she felt like people were mocking her because she could not speak English. My mom said she had to deal with people that simply did not care where she came from. But in the end she kept on searching for a place to settle. She eventually came to settle down in Flushing, where she was able to build a tight nit Chinese community. My mom claims that she brought a bit of China with her and turned the neighborhood all yellow- that was my mom’s attempt at joking. It was quite difficult for her to move away, but if it was not for her sudden change in character our family could be in the streets by this point.

Over the course of World War II, the United States’ Selective Service drafted and inducted over eleven million men into the various armed forces; my grandpa, Stephen J. Drag is not included in that figure and yet in 1944 he found himself in the deadliest battle of the war…by his own choosing. This short narrative, while structured around events of the war in reality has little to do with it; instead, this about a decision that was made, some unlikely circumstances, and a choice’s ultimate consequence. It is by mere coincidence that the end result takes us into war, though its importance cannot be overstated. As Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces, Dwight Eisenhower once stated, one’s history is “never really written by chance but by choice;” with all luck, this will be an honest recount of a choice made a young man over sixty years ago.

Today, his decision can seem particularly befuddling, in recent memory, war is something that many run away from, not towards; it’s worth pointing out thought that the world has changed in more ways than one since then though, for better and for worse. Beside the point, the youngest son of Polish immigrants, Steve Drag grew up in the Park Slope section of Brooklyn and was in the last graduating class of Alexander Hamilton High School in 1942. Just some three weeks before he was to turn eighteen, America was attacked at Pearl Harbor and in time for his birthday, the United States had commit to the largest war that the world had ever seen. Within his group of friends, Drag was one of the youngest, his two older brothers had both been drafted into the Air Force and most of his friends had been inducted as well. One can only imagine the anxiety that the draft lottery process created; yet my grandpa knew that his name would never be called no matter how many lotteries were held. He had not ‘lucked out’ with the lottery system and he didn’t know some loophole, rather upon examination by the draft board, he was classified as a ‘4-F,’ or thanks to his eyesight, ‘not acceptable for military service.’

Most people today would be relieved at hearing such news; things were different then though and to my grandpa, the classification was a disappointment. While on one hand it assured him of a (comparatively speaking) more comfortable job and left him in a Brooklyn with more young women than young men (an enviable situation); on the other, the classification still felt like a rejection, and not many can handle them too well. So, following high school, he left to work for a war goods contractor and he joined the National Guard. Now, the National Guard itself only offered training in preparation for a call out to war, but at least it was something, thought my grandpa. Yet, even that wasn’t enough and with war efforts heating up, in September of 1943, he submitted his name to the Army voluntarily.

Considering the enormity of the war, volunteers are people that you generally don’t turn down without good reason, and so my grandpa was accepted, his eyesight and all. Due to his classification however, he was told that he would never see any action, and only serve at posts within the United States, never mind Europe; okay he thought, at least I’m doing something. His first stop was a Camp Upton in Farmingdale, New York, not too far from his Brooklyn home. While there he was offered a chance to stay and overlook the kitchen operations. Kitchen duty though was not enough to entice my grandpa to stay and so he next headed out to Camp Grant in Illinois. After spending a good amount of time there, he was offered the choice to become either a dental or surgical technician; he chose the latter and was no sooner shipped off to Lawson General Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia for training. For someone not leaving the country, things sure seemed to be moving fast, and with good reason, shortly after America’s landing at Normandy, my grandpa found himself with countless others on a ship destined for England, he was off to war, 4-F and all.

Upon arrival and subsequent shuffle to France, he was told informed at some point that he was a ‘replacement troop.’ Yet, he was replacing no ordinary soldier, instead he had the distinction of being a combat medic, and the luxury of having to carry one less thing, a gun. And so, at some point in July of 1944, he was assigned to the ‘Anti Tank Company’ of the 120^th Infantry Regiment of the 30^th Infantry Division, with which he would spend the remainder of the war. The 30^th had earned the nickname of ‘FDR’s SS,’ as it had twice decimated Hitler’s ‘elite’ SS troops, my grandpa unarmed for most of the campaign made his impact known in other ways; with a red cross affixed to his helmet and sleeve, instead of ammunition and firearms, he carried a bag full of “bandages…morphine, and some sulfanilamide powder.”

By December, his division had been rerouted from Germany back to Belgium as the Battle of the Bulge began. More than half a million American soldiers participated in the battle and while its significance within the war itself was immense, for the purpose of this narrative, no further detail is necessary. Instead more important to the story of my grandpa is that during the time of the battle, he and his company were stationed in Malmedy, a relatively small town in Belgium. They stayed there through Christmas, and while there the Air Force mistakenly proceeded to bomb the town on the 23^rd, 24^th, and 25^th, when all the while it had been in American control. The Christmas of 1944 is one that has stuck with my grandpa ever since, at the time he was still only nineteen. Further research into released military documents reveals that on a bright and clear Christmas Eve day, at 2:30pm, Air Force B-52’s directly hit several companies specifically the Anti Tank Co. to which my grandpa was assigned. (In an army transcript from 12/24, one soldier signaled: “They have bombed us two or three times today. Isn’t there something you can do to stop them?,” the response to which stated: “Colonel — is doing everything he can.” Four minutes later, more bombs were dropped.) It’s amazing to consider that in a war that was as devastating as it was, soldiers and civilians alike were both killed and injured by mistake. For his immediate relief actions, my grandpa was awarded two bronze stars; his regiment was later on bestowed ‘Croix de Guerre’ medals from the French, though my grandpa seemingly never physically received his.

The Battle of the Bulge did not mark the end of his military action, as my grandpa was involved in several other campaigns throughout Europe until the war (at least on the European front) was won; yet for the sake of this short paper, I feel it is an apropos place to bring the story to an end. By the age of twenty, he had returned home having seen the horrors and atrocities that war could produce, however he also undoubtedly saw the positive effects that can still be seen today. Looking back today, it is quite clear that his initial choice to serve is one that he would have made again.

Author’s Note: I realize it is particularly difficult to do justice to my grandpa’s story in such a short amount of time; hundreds of thousands of pages have been written on the very same topic, having no intention to understate my grandpa’s experience, simply consider this as fleetingly brief excerpt of what actually occurred. Hopefully, it is one that you can appreciate -peter s dantonio

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