The Sweetest Love

She started with a familiar phrase, “I’d like to be… a kidney donor for…” but her tone was unusual. 

She was quiet, still, sincere, and courageous.  Her questions were routine but she wanted to say more.  As it turns out, there is a condition that will be with her for the rest of her life and an illness that would make donation dangerous.

This young lady knew before she called that giving her gift would be improbable but in her own words, “I had to try.  I wanted to know.  I couldn’t watch his condition deteriorate and not call you to find out if this were even possible.”

This beautiful person has been walking uphill all her life and came upon someone facing a steeper path and a stronger headwind.

Of her motivation she said simply, “Over the last few months we’ve become closer…” 

Such selflessness deserves an honest effort. 

We ended this part of our talk with a promise that by the end of the day she would have an answer to the question on her mind for weeks: can I overcome my unlucky past and give him a better future?

Our team reviewed the details, contemplated the what-if’s, weighed the risks.  In the end we all agreed that she cannot be the one to reverse his failing health.  It was very difficult to call her back with the information that would break her heart.  There was a last minute review of everything we discussed:  Maybe if this… or possibly if that… or what if we did…

Sadly, in the end her sincererity and her hope had to be laid to rest gently and respectfully.

She understood the undeniable, almost unreasonable, risks to her own health but she didn’t care.  In the end though, after a thorough review of all the facts and all the science, she arrived at the same conclusion: we could not risk making his condition worse.  Given her past, this could happen.

She was comforted to know that his family will find another donor but this news was bittersweet.  She realized that her lifelong bad luck had stolen yet one more happiness — she’ll never experience the joy of being the one to give good health back to her Love.

Her tears fell gently on the phone and it sounded like the rain.

The Pistol That No One Bothered to Find

Ten offenders in a holding cell.

Two officers to watch and search them all.

One offender was hiding a pistol and in a moment the gun hit the floor with that unmistakable clunking sound.

One officer saw the firearm and threw two offenders to the floor.

He jumped to gain control of the four inch revolver that never should have gotten this far.

The officer opened the cylinder and saw six bullets -  fully loaded.

Five minutes after the incident he found himself awash in adrenalin and unable to concentrate on the paperwork.

The what-ifs raced threw his mind and he realized how close he came to dying.

The fear, anger, and panic can’t be hidden in his voice as he tells the story.

That officer is my brother.

This Halloween came very close to being an absolute nightmare.

In one instant, the people,… are all gone.

I can’t stay away.  I’ve been debating whether or not to go to the Philippines in February.  Just when I thought I could put off my next visit until 2011 HBO has started their 24/7 Pacquiao – Cotto series for the upcoming fight

http://www.hbo.com/boxing/events/2009/1114_pacquiao_cotto/index.html

As luck would have it, Manny decided to train in Baguio City in the northern province of Luzon so the show has amazing footage of the Philippines in the aftermath of the recent typhoons.  In the fifth minute you’ll see about ten people floating on top of the remains of their house.  That footage is the last image of them alive.  In the 14th minute you’ll hear Buboy saddened by the thought of people who vanished in a mudslide.  In the 15th minute you’ll hear someone say, “I’m so tired already.  I’m all alone to clean this side.”

It’s all a part of me: the rain dripping from the sky; the Filipino-accented english; the images of the schools and the countryside; the mud at their feet; the fast moving rivers; the people, humbled but with wide smiles & the oh-so-sad-and-tired eyes; the children who move forward into the biggest unknown imaginable; and the adults who have experienced so much.  I’ve walked among those sights, those scents, those people.  It’s the only place I can truly blend in to the crowd.  I speak the language.  I understand the people.  I feel the emotions.  Everytime I go back, my soul and my heart become one.  The experience is inexplicable. 

The only possible explanation: my father’s love for the old country is within me too. 

I could’ve done many things with my life and I could’ve been so very different today.  But of all the different paths I could’ve taken, my life now with all its choices made is the only one that has allowed me to visit the Philippines so frequently. 

I don’t know what is in store for my future.   I can however tell you that I’m going to look back at all the time I spent in the Philippines and recall walking through the streets of Manila and Malabon and Libmanan and I’m going to know that my life has been fulfilled many many times over.  Each time I stepped off the plane into the thick, warm, moist night air I knew I was home.

Each One is a Book

I’m somewhat surprised that I haven’t grown tired of my job yet.

I’ve recognized the drudgery and the menial tasks of my work.  I suppose every job has those things.  You know, there are days that seem unbelievably overwhelming.

Sometimes I’m just plain exhausted.

I have to tell you that the most rejuvenating part of my work lies in the few minutes I spend talking with a new client for the very first time.  No matter how routine I try to make each case I’m pleasantly jolted back to square one everytime someone calls me with the request I’ve heard dozens of times now:  ”I’d like to be tested to become a living kidney donor for my…”

It’s such a courageous statement I can’t help but feel humbled by the person’s intent. 

I hear many things in the way they say it.  Some people are hesitant.  Many are unsure about what they’re about to embark upon.  I can hear fear; determination; exasperation; a desire to help; a lack of understanding; humility.  It’s all there in that first few minutes. 

Some people get to make the donation.  Others can’t.  There are also a few cases that are just impregnated with uncertainty.  I suppose that’s where my work starts.  But like I’ve told you, the magic lies in those early moments.

I’m very much honored to be a part of their gift.  If ever you needed motivation to do your best, I’m lucky enough to hear it about two to three times a day.  It’s an amazing thing to witness… each and every time.

A Purposeful Life

I let myself down two days ago.  A shooting and a hit-and-run took place right in front of me and I chose to not to care.  I was in perfect position to chase the offender’s vehicle but made a conscious choice to go on my way.  I was the only one who could’ve followed the minivan.  I was the only one who clearly saw everything. 

I wasn’t in shock when the shooting and subsequent hit-and-run took place.  Many people can’t believe their eyes.  Not me.  Perhaps it comes from growing up in the city.  Oddly enough I’ve witnessed many crimes.  I’ve always known to review the event right away to help my memory.  I always know to look at license plates and vehicle make and model.  I’ve relayed this information many times to the victims who are grateful because they weren’t able to see what happened themselves. 

However, two days ago I drove away and it’s bothered me ever since.  I did turn around after several blocks and I did make an effort to find the offenders myself but it was too late.  I came back and told the officer on scene what I saw and it was important information but without the plate number it wasn’t helpful.  I feel bad for the man who was hit.  He was okay but I could’ve given him information to help him get money to fix his damaged truck.  (I’ve done that before many times.) 

It’s been bugging me for the last couple of days and I’ve promised myself to do better next time.

You Need to Be Brave

With a little bit of focus, effort, and courage you’ll see that situations around you that make you feel anxious and overwhelmed are caused by the simple fact that you are scared out of your mind to live your life in the unknown. 

Lay down your fear. Step over it quietly. 

Have confidence in the fact that you’ve come this far using a skillful combination of: 

• wits,
• help from those who love you,
• and luck (let’s be honest).

Do you see the baby who is crawling or walking for the first time?  That’s you.  That is us.  Each step is one into this mysterious world.

It’s okay to retreat sometimes.  It’s fine to fall occasionally.  We all go through it.  We have felt what you’re feeling. 

Remember, inside of you is a curiosity we all possess.  It’s a hunger that must be fed.  Much like oxygen, food, and water we need new experiences to survive our lives and to overcome ourselves.

Please, don’t despair.  Take that step. 

It may lead to danger but you are courageous. 

The Joy may just be around the next curve.

Be brave.

A Mother’s Good-Bye

“Farewell, my child. You are here lying in the cold coffin, leaving behind the wailing of loved ones. I sing you lullabies by your side, so sweet, like I did when you were a baby, wishing you a peaceful sleep. They are now sung through my crying sobs, sung to wish you an eternal blessed sleep.”

Sep 26, 2009 – Translated words spoken during the funeral of Miss Annie Le.

The Good-Bye That I Can’t Understand

Here’s a death that has confounded me (and everyone) for the last few weeks:

24 year old Annie Le’s body was found on her wedding day.

Honest to God, I can’t understand this one. 

All of their family members and all of their friends were supposed to witness this young couple’s lifetime commitment to each other.

Instead, they’re coming together for her memorial service and her funeral.

I can’t comprehend the emptiness felt right now by the young man, her best friend, who was to become her husband.

The daily phone calls are no more.

The dreams of spending their lives together are gone.

How do you replace someone like her?

How do you deal with that kind of loss?

She was a beautiful, driven, charming young woman who was well loved.

If there is any way to send strength to this young man, someone please tell me how. 

I don’t care about the person who caused this sadness.  Fate will take care of him.

I just wish this event could somehow be undone… for the happiness we all lost.

Peace, everyone. 

Please, Peace.

Post Script: In my mind I see the weeping spirit of this young lady looking down at all of the people she loves and the young man she loved so much and her sadness is inconsolable.

We all lost on this one.  We all lost.

The Child’s Smile

I was on my motorcycle and stopped at an intersection downtown.  The sun was bright and beaming and the blue sky was all above us.  People were going home.  Everyone was going home it seemed.  It was five o’clock.

People were going from left to right and vice versa in the crosswalk in that hurried way you do when you try not to look like you’re running far and fast away from your work and your boss but really that is what you are doing.  There were many men and women and they were all determined to get somewhere; like me I suppose.

Everybody was trying not to look at this one man in the street.  He was crossing like everyone else but that was probably the only thing he had in common with those of us around him.  He was Black and he was afflicted with some kind of medical condition that caused his left arm to lock in a bent position at the elbow.  It made it look like he was pointing upward.  His head was cocked to the side in an odd way that looked a little uncomfortable and almost made him look like he was facing one way but looking another.  Oh yeah, he was in one of those motorized scooters.  You know, the ones that they’ll bring to your house and set up for free if you have the right kind of insurance.  That’s where he and I were the same: he was on his set of wheels and I was on mine and we were both enjoying a fine night to commute home.

I could sense everyone around me looking away but I chose to look at him.  I chose to look him right in the eye.  I wanted him to know that he was as worthy of being noticed as everyone else.  I didn’t want him to see me looking away from him as if he were something to pity.  I looked him in the eyes and he noticed me. 

I could tell he sensed someone looking at him.  He looked around and his scan caught my gaze.  At first he looked away but then, in a split second, his look became firm & stern and he locked on my eyes too.  He was not going to back down and neither was I.  Here we were, both on our wheels, men going home.  One like the other and really no different. 

I wanted him to know we were in this crazy commute together.  I nodded to him like I do to other people on their motorcycles and he understood the gesture right away – we were both men on wheels.  The toughness in his face melted and in a moment I saw the wide, content, eyes-closed, cheeks-dimpled smile that I last saw on the face of a content baby. 

The entire event lasted about seven seconds.  But seeing the joy he had on his face as we were acknowledging each other as men do – as people acknowledge each other who do not care about our differences but rather enjoy our similarities – created a feeling that went with me all the way home.

Notes From a Chicago Police Officer’s Funeral

We parked six blocks away from St. Bede’s and followed the others; walking in our small groups of two’s and three’s.  As we got closer to the Church something odd happened that I think I only noticed because so many people were in uniform:  the small, separate groups all merged slowly forming larger bunches of ten or twelve people.

The Officers wore their dress blue uniforms with formal hat and white gloves. The black mourning band was draped across almost every star.

In the parking lot across the street from St. Bede’s the Officers all gathered and waited for the arrival of Officer Valadez’ body.

At first, I didn’t know what they were doing because from behind it was just a massive wall of blue.

Santos went into the group and we agreed to meet after the service. I walked towards the Church and that’s when I saw the Honor Guard standing in the middle of the street. Next to them was another line of Officers standing in formation in front of the Church holding the flags from the districts hit hardest by Ofc. Valadez’ death: 7th and 10th.

From this position in front of the Church, I realized that the Officers I left in the parking lot weren’t just standing around.  They were standing shoulder to shoulder in a semi-defined formation. They were ominous to see – all wearing dark blue uniforms, white gloves, dark glasses on stern faces.

The choir, by contrast, sung beautifully and their music was broadcast over speakers outside the church. The songs helped soothe the heavy, somber feeling that settled in the air above St. Bede’s.

A little girl standing on the corner held up a sign that thanked the Officers for their work. I overheard a Lieutenant say, “Thank you” to the girl’s father who stood proudly by her side.

+++

I was inside the church when Ofc. Valadez’ body arrived. The music stopped. Everyone in the congregation turned towards the main entrance and I felt my insides turn grey. The silence was vast and from somewhere in that emptiness the mother of the fallen officer let out a cry that struck everyone in the heart. It was the primal howl that only comes from a mother standing over her dead child.

+++

After the typical Catholic service (after the readings, the gospel, the Superintendant, the Mayor, and the Governor) the partner of the fallen officer shared his thoughts about the death of his friend.

I need to point out that Ofc. Vargas, standing at the podium, struck me as being an incredibly young man.  Maybe I’m feeling a little old these days but if you look at the police officers in this city you’ll see quite a few of them are very youthful.  Ofc. Valadez was only 27 when he died and apparently he and his partner were constantly being mistaken for each other.

Ofc. Vargas did an amazing job of sharing memories of his slain partner. He had the whole congregation choking back tears… unsuccessfully. He had us chuckling at Ofc. Valadez’ jokes on the job and smiling at some of the once-private thoughts Valadez had about his family members (esp. his sisters).

Ofc. Vargas was incredibly gracious to let us into the private world that’s created between two officers during their tour. He brought all of us closer to the man who is now in the casket.

+++

There’s nothing more solemn than a Church full of Cops.  They packed the pews and lined the walls.  Heaven help the next person who threatens one of their own.

+++

Quite a few people asked if we knew Ofc. Valadez and I had to ask Santos if it was strange that I was going to the funeral of someone I didn’t know personally. He reassured me that it wasn’t odd at all.

So why was I going? I wondered about that all day and didn’t realize it until evening.

Officers and their family members always know there’s a chance they may not come back from their tours safely. It’s a feeling we’ve gotten used to and it’s a thought that’s always on the back burner, simmering quietly.

It’s a feeling that makes spending time together a little more precious. Sharing a joke and a laugh has become a little sweeter. I think twice before starting a petty argument with my brother and I’ve gotten great at not saying things I know I’ll regret.  I won’t hesitate to go with Santos on a trip to the Philippines or Hong Kong or Boston or New York or even Buffalo Joe’s in Evanston.

We both know (we all know) that tomorrow is never guaranteed.

I may not have personally known Ofc. Valadez or his family but I know all to well the hopes & fears the Valadez family had for Alejandro. I know how proud they are of him.

Our Police Officers have chosen to do a very dangerous job and when one of them goes down, the entire CPD community feels the fall.

+++

CPD Ofc. Alejandro “Alex” Valadez, Star #9534… End of Watch June 1, 2009…

Thank you for everything and I hope you rest in Peace.