Acid42 is the Soft Asian Enemy

A few months ago, I attended two nights of traffic school, four hours each night, in reparation for driving 10 miles above the speed limit in a small town called Dorris, CA just past the border from Oregon.

Lo and behold, we got a teacher who not only facilitated discussion, but was also funny as heck. And he did truly teach us a lot via his Socratic method of question and answer. It was either that, or have him read from the vehicle code book. I even took down notes, geekyboy that I am. THAT’S how good he was. He got me to take down notes about driving, for cripe’s sake. Anyway, here are the 12 most interesting things we learned:

“Rush Hour on a Mountain Road.” Flickr photo by PhotoPhreak.

1. Only 2 things are allowed out of a car while it’s running: clean water and chicken feathers.
2. If you’re caught driving 21 miles over the speed limit, it’s POSSIBLE that you lose your car (towed), lose your license (you’ll need to reapply) and you may spend 2-3 days in jail. For a total cost of anywhere from $1,000 to $4,000.
3. If you have a DUI, you cannot enter Canada or France. They’ll stop you at your point of entry and send you back.
4. Your car has a GPS, and so does your cellphone. You can be triangulated at any time. Info is being given out ALL the time.
5. You can’t drink alcohol in public ANYWHERE. Not even your front yard if it’s in view of the public.
6. In a 30 mile zone, a red light will stay red for approximately 3 seconds. In a 40 mile zone, 4 seconds, and in a 50 mile zone, 5 seconds.
7. Your driving record affects everything. Including your credit record.
8. Unsure of your heading in a residential area? Even-numbered house numbers face either North or West. Odd-numbered houses face East or South.
9. Any obstruction of driver’s view is actually a violation: fuzzy dice, GPS unit mounted on dashboard, anything hanging from rearview mirror, even window tinting (unless the car was manufactured with it).
10. Save up to 25% of your overall gas usage by: stepping on gas pedal slowly instead of abruptly, idling up to stops (instead of stepping on gas then braking abruptly), and idling out of a stop before you step on the gas pedal.
11. Allow turn signals to blink 3 times before switching lanes on a highway.
12. Exit numbers start at the southernmost tip of an interstate highway and end at the northern most. Each exit number tells how you how far you are from the start of the highway, (Exit 27 is 27 miles from the start) as well as how far away the next exit is (Exit 30 is 3 miles away from Exit 27). Also, exits usually have an A/B identifier. (eg. Exit 27A) Exits marked A lead to the north or west, and exits marked B lead to east or south.

On Monday Morning, December 1, 2008, I was walking to the Hayward BART train station after coming from the 7 AM morning mass. I had headphones on, and was listening to Catholic broadcaster Teresa Tomeo’s radio show on EWTN (via Immaculate Heart Radio 1260 AM) where she was talking with another author about how children experience God first through their parents’ love and attention.

I was thinking about children. And had this sunny image of a father playing with a smiling baby girl in a verdant green backyard.

Suddenly, I was approached and surrounded by five young high school boys (three of whom were on bicycles) who said: “Gimme all your money… NOW!”

Empty. Flickr photo by Razzlefrazzle.

I gave them my wallet and told them I had no cash, which was why I was walking. There truly wasn’t a dime in there. The lead boy searched through my wallet, not finding any bills. He flipped through the image of the Divine Mercy and some photos. He said “Oh. Nice picture of your daughter.” And then handed me back the wallet without taking anything. (Actually, it was a college photo of my wife.) At which point another boy wanted to see the photo so I handed him my wallet. He handed it back to me after fingering through it as well.

The lead boy then said “You taking the bus?” I said yeah. “You have no money? Here.” And he handed me a dollar bill.

I took it.

And I don’t even remember saying thank you. I was too weirded out.

They then ran off saying “Sorry, we thought you were someone else!” Yeah right. The gang then proceeded to terrorize two other men on the same street. One victim ran from the gang by stepping into traffic, another victim must’ve lost some money. All of this at 8:30 AM on a Monday morning.

* * *

I was glad they took none of the cards or I.D. or even the wallet. They actually even refused my cheap plastic radio which I was listening to Teresa Tomeo’s show on. (Yes, I offered it to them.)

Once on the BART train, I prayed for those boys that God show them the error of their ways before it’s too late for them. Because as I looked at their eyes, I realized those kids didn’t think they were doing anything truly criminal. It seemed from their bearing and demeanor that they were only playing a game — merely bullying some kid on the school yard, or accomplishing some video game quest.

Again, I was thinking about children. This time, the image was less sunny and more grim. Did those boys who tried to rob me not grow up right? Were values not taught in their homes? Did they have parents? Role models?

Googling for info on these criminal activities, I came up with this Oakland Tribune article posted back in April 08 about how these Hayward street muggers view it all as a sport:

Street muggings have become a sport for robbers, Police Chief Lloyd Lowe said during a report to the City Council in February. “It’s almost as though it is a sport,” he said. “People are just being robbed when they are walking down the street, even if the robbers don’t get anything. It is something that we’re seeing all over the Bay Area.”

* * *

So now I can say, strangely enough, that I was mugged.

And earned a dollar.

Truly God is kind and merciful (not that I deserve it), slow to anger and rich in compassion.

Here’s an old post I found sitting in my (gasp) analog journal, written sometime between August 2008. Decided to rewrite and upload it here.

On Sunday afternoons, I sit and listen. While my wife attends choir practice for her church’s evening service, I am in the car in the parking lot, hearkening to the Lord. I’ve discovered the wonderful radio program “The Great Adventure” hosted by Jeff Cavins on EWTN and rebroadcast on Immaculate Heart Radio, the Bay Area Catholic AM station (1260 AM). “The Great Adventure” is an hour-long Catholic bible study on the air, which has actually made me hungrier to read God’s word. It’s been an enormous blessing to me.

Saints Peter and John Healing the Lame Man (1655). Painting by Nicolas Poussin. Flickr photo by wallyg.

One Sunday last August, Jeff was tackling the first third of Acts of the Apostles, and for some strange reason, as I read along with his commentary, I wept.

We were at Acts 3:6 Where the apostle Peter said: “I do not possess silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you: In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene–walk!”

Why this made me cry I have no idea.

Part of it is a sadness that I do not get to worship on Sundays in the Catholic Church. Another is that Peter and the apostles had so much faith, strength and certainty about what they were doing — enough to offer healing and nothing more to a poor, lame man sitting at the entrance of the temple.

When you think about it, Christ is the only wealth we’ll ever need. Everything else is just trimming.

“What I do have, I give to you…” As I keep hearing at my wife’s church, you can’t give what you don’t have. And in this reading, Peter possessed nothing more than faith in Jesus, and was empowered by it to do great and mighty deeds.

I wonder sometimes: when will our faith be strong enough to do the same, or at least to attempt to serve God as courageously as Peter and the apostles did? Maybe one day, God willing.

Till then, we strive to continue to know, love and serve God whatever way He wants us to.

Today’s Gospel reading gives us a lot to think about in the realm of invitations and feasts. At Mass this morning, our priest asked us to share our experiences as guests or hosts — what happens when someone you invite doesn’t make it? Or how do you feel when you’re singled out, asked to come to a meal that is special?

I shared about how I have two former officemates who I invited to my wedding in 2000. They never made it. They never tried to contact me either to tell me they couldn’t go or that they had no transportation to get to the church. They simply didn’t show up. Possibly, they felt they would be just one more person in a crowd. I wanted to share our blessed union with them– a day unlike any other — and they didn’t go.

Eucharist. Flickr photo by shioshvili.

To this day, it’s a running joke during those rare times when we get to communicate, that they didn’t come to my wedding and thus get no free favors from me. But the truth is, at the time, it felt … insulting. Almost like, hey, we have more important things to do. Because really, what it boils down to is priorities. If you refuse an invitation, you’re saying something else is more important, is more of a priority.

Which is pretty much what the three characters in today’s Gospel reading (Lk 14:15-24) did: they told the host that they had more important things to do than attend a great dinner. One was concerned about the field he’d just bought (material possessions), one was concerned with oxen he’d just purchased (livelihood, career), and the last was concerned that he’d just been married (relationships). These three were saying “Master, this concern of mine is what’s keeping me from your dinner. Sorry, I’m out.”

How sad the Father must feel when we refuse His invitation. Because it’s a free dinner He calls us to share in. One where all we need to bring is a humble and contrite heart. One where we are called to join our large, celestial family of Heaven-dwelling and Earth-bound saints in the praise and worship of the eternal Bread of Life, who is Jesus. Jesus present in our brethren gathered around the table. Jesus in the Word of Sacred Scripture. Jesus come down to Earth in the Blessed Eucharist.

Maybe it’s time we stop letting our obsession with material possessions hinder us from “tasting and seeing that the Lord is good.” Maybe it’s time we stop making our careers and livelihoods the central focus of our energies instead of following the Will of God for our lives. Maybe it’s time we stop making relationships and other people as our excuse for not getting to Mass or church or synagogue or chapel, for not fostering our relationship with Him.

Maybe it’s time we heed the call.

Well, okay, technically this isn’t a podcast. It’s really a 5-minute recording of a liturgical song I came up with based on three Gospel stories: the woman with hemorrhage from Matthew 9:20-22, the Roman centurion whose servant was sick from Matthew 8:5-13, and Bartimaeus shouting for the Lord by the roadside from Mark 10:46-52. The chorus of the song is a composite of Jesus’ responses to these three. I finished composing the song over 2 weeks last month, and just recorded the song the other day, putting it together by trial and error. No music sheet or notation of this piece as of yet.

I hope this song blesses those out there praying for healing, and gives comfort that God indeed does work miracles in His time. Stay strong, and continue drawing near to Him who is able to keep you from falling. God bless.

Here are the lyrics:

FEAR NOT, TAKE COURAGE
Words and Music: Lionel Valdellon. 2008

CHORUS:
Fear not, take courage. Your faith has saved you
Arise my child, your sickness has been healed
Your eyes are opened, your sins forgiven.
As you draw near, My kingdom is revealed.

1. [Matthew 9:20-22]
If I could touch the tassel of your cloak, Lord,
If I could see your face among the crowd,
I would be healed of every wound within me
I would be blessed, my joy would know no bounds.

2. [ Matthew 8:5-13]
If I could reach your presence, ask for healing.
My servant suffers and is lying still.
I am unworthy to receive your presence,
But say the word, my servant shall be healed.

3. [Mark 10:46-52]
If I cry out “My Lord have pity on me”
If I call out as you pass on the road
You call me forth, I rush to you with longing.
I want to see and follow you, my Lord.

Listen here or click on the podcast player in the sidebar to the right:

Boomp3.com

The day my mother-in-law and I traipsed around the Cal Academy of Sciences, was the same day something unusual happened at our local BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) train station.

Sometime in the afternoon, the train could not stop at Hayward due to “police activity.” The loudspeakers were announcing this with an apology and an alternative route: take the train to South Hayward and the #99 bus back to Hayward, as no trains would be stopping at Hayward. We wondered why?

I told Nanay it was probably a murder. Because if it were a robbery, or a drug sting, or an accident or any other misdemeanor, the police would have it cleared off in a minute to keep the flow of pedestrians and rush hour traffic moving. But if there were some gun shooting, or a death, then they’d have to investigate, clear the area, look for clues or witnesses.

Bus Stop Perch. One of my Hayward BART photos.

True enough, that night on the news we saw a news report about an 18-year-old teenager being shot and a 77-year-old man being wounded and rushed to the hospital. The teen died, the older man survived. And just today, it was reported that they arrested a 20-year-old suspect.

How sad that the BART station I frequent every day is yet another place where violence may erupt at any second. Though that is true anywhere, when you think about it. As I was telling my officemates recently: “I live in Hayward — where people get shot at the Southland mall on a Sunday afternoon while arguing over shoes (supposedly), or at the BART station, while waiting for a ride.”

I travel through that area all the time. I am not frightened. If I am shot and killed… then the Lord gives and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord (Job 1:21). But life must go on. What is sad is the fact that teenagers continue to resort to violence to settle disputes, eventually wrecking their own lives.

There is so much possibility here in the U.S., which is the reason why droves of people attempt to emigrate from other countries. But also so much waste. Not just of material resources, but also of lives.

Please pray for the souls of the victims of violence, that they may find comfort in the Lord’s arms, and also for their familes, that they may find peace.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.

Apparently Columbus Day is a non-working holiday in the U.S. So thank you to Sir Christopher for getting lost and thinking he chanced upon India despite the northern hemisphere weather.

I took the opportunity to do some exploring of my own using the free day, (too bad my wife had to work) and along with my mother-in-law, we went to see what the fuss was about at the newly-opened California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco.

We got there via public transportation: BART train and the MUNI #5 Fulton Bus. It’s a very short walk from the corner of Fulton and 8th Avenue. No chance of getting lost. The signages were everywhere and the people spilling out of the bulding was a dead giveaway.

The old look of the CalAcademy, pre-2005. Photo from Wikipedia.

My first reaction was: wait a minute, I’ve been here before! True enough, I last visited the museum in 2002, back before its current makeover and back before it was cool. The place has been spruced up and made snazzy with glass walls, several food outlets, that green living roof, and the nice new planetarium and rainforest domes.

Murky depths. One of my Aquarium photos.

Something Fishy
First thing we hit was the attraction that needed no lining up: the Aquarium on the basement level. Let me just say this: even if you don’t normally enjoy fish or aquariums, you will love this. I was going: “Nanay, look at all the zany neon colored fish!”

One of the coolest parts was the Philippine Coral Reef exhibit which felt very much like home — without the panic. (As a side note, the last time I went snorkelling with my wife in Sorsogon in 2002, I took 2 peeks at the outerspace vista opening up underneath me and panicked. “Honey, there’s a whole alien world under the sea! And I’m not a part of it! I’m gonna die!”)

There were tide pools where kids could hold starfish, and hundreds of other attractions that informed and entertained. Lovely.

Nanay and I at the Living Roof.

Of Grassy Roofs and Grassy Domes
We took a quick lunch (we arrived at 12 noon) at their restaurant area. Hmm. Sandwiches for 8 dollars? Might be a good idea to bring a packed meal if you plan a day trip there.

We then went up to view the living roof on the 3rd floor, where, overlooking the street we found that there was a hotdog truck parked outside the building and offering cheap meals for much less than we paid inside. Drats.

Anyway, back to the Living Roof… it’s basically the museum roof piled high with earth and seeded. Plants now grow on it. And the entire thing insulates the structure underneath. Cool in the heat, warm in the cold. Nice. But, you know, nothing spectacular.

We tried lining up for the Rainforest Dome next, and endured a half hour line (yes, we DID choose to go on a national holiday, for goodness’ sake, so I shouldn’t be complaining) before entering a place where butterflies flit over everything, and both flora and fauna native to tropical areas were on display.

Part of the fun lay in finding the animals in their displays. “Oh, where’s the Strawberry Poison Dart Frog? There he is underneath the leaf!” What was not fun however was the way the display cases were laid out. Honestly, the flat levels in the Rainforest Dome were tight spots with dead ends. Museum visitors had to go into a level, and then back out the same way they came in, crowding around tight corners where the display cases were located. Not very logical or comfortable. Or maybe it was simply the sheer number of people in the place.

At the end of the Rainforest trip, they take you by elevator to the basement where you go through a see-through tunnel that’s underwater. Looking up at the fish swimming above you is pure delight.

This coral screams: “The mothership has landed!”

Africa and Shopping
We then discovered the cute penguins at the African Hall and all the stuffed animals. Not as impressive when it’s stuffed. No wonder there were less people here than in the Aquarium. Still, standing in front of a monstrous-looking, full-muscled antelope is a lesson in humility. Man is a tiny thing in the scheme of creation.

The lines were still long at the Planetarium so we decided to skip it, and headed home by about 4:15 PM. Or rather, we headed back to Market Street where we ended up window shopping at the Westfield Mall. That’s one thing you can be sure of when out with my mother-in-law: if you suggest shopping, she will very rarely say no.

At grace before our dinner, my mom-in-law summed it all up in her prayer: “Thank you, Lord for our trip today where we got to see the glory of your creation. How beautiful is your work, O Lord.”

Amen!

Cal Academy of Sciences photo by Monster Pete on Flickr.

I was walking to Mass last Wednesday morning in the dim morning light. Rosary nearly through, the clock exactly at 7 AM. I rounded the corner at the local donut shop and saw a sight I don’t normally see that early in the day. A group of people were gathered around a table, patrons and donut shop crew alike, singing Happy Birthday to someone. A birthday party at 7 AM in the morning! As the birthday song died down, someone — probably the celebrant — brought out a harmonica and started blowing a tune I did not recognize.

I was out of earshot a few seconds later, smiling from ear to ear. I was heading towards my own morning party, my own daily celebration of life and love and sacrifice. I was heading towards the 7 AM Mass which had started already, and which would commemorate Christ’s death and suffering, but even more, would bring Christ present to us physically, in the form of the Blessed Eucharist.

“Dark Church.” Photo by Wiros on Flickr.

Upon arriving, I switched on the electronic keyboard in the daily chapel ready to sing my own version of a celebratory song — the Alleluia before the Gospel.

Praise God for every daily blessing. Praise God for morning parties and for the overflowing blessings — all of which are reasons to celebrate joyfully, with praise and thanksgiving.

Philippians 4:4 reminds us: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!”

Last Sunday’s second reading suddenly makes sense. Part of the reading (Phil 4:12-13) had the apostle Paul writing: “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”

Content whether well-fed or hungry, whether in plenty or in want? That’s one tough cookie speaking. I thought as I read the passage that I don’t think I can say the same. All I know is plenty, all I know is blessing.

This is me, eating yellow curry in a yellow shirt.

I attended my company’s Wellness Program lunch yesterday. They served us lotsa green, leafy vegetables studded with hefty grilled chicken slices and a choice of dressings. They also had half-ham and turkey sandwiches on wheat bread. They were feeding us healthy food and then giving us a talk on choosing healthy foods on a daily basis. The speaker was an articulate person from Kaiser Permanente who was trying to convince us that the first step to healthier eating is looking at what we eat.

Hence the challenge of starting a food journal. The logic being: just noting down what you shove down into the black hole will make you more conscious about the food choices you’re making and why.

I immediately Googled for free online journals and took a look through a few like SparkPeople and DailyPlate. And I signed up for one of them and tried to get that info in. But it seems like a tedious process. Maybe the solution for me is an analog notebook. Something small and handy. I do have a few lying around.

All I know is: I tried counting my calories yesterday and picked a goal of losing 1 pound a week, which at my current weight and level of physical activity means I must maintain a limit of 2,038 calories a day. And I ended up cranky, grumpy and exhausted.

I wonder if St.Paul, ever got grumpy when he was hungry. I have a feeling he could teach me a few lessons. And probably the first would be: stop whining, brother!

This weekend is the official memorial service for Mrs. Joyce Tesseneer. It will be held at the Heritage Baptist Church in San Leandro CA, at 1:30 PM on Saturday October 11, 2008. My wife Agnes will be one of the people giving a testimony about Joyce at the service. They have been friends for years. Joyce’s family will be in attendance.  

I thought it might be a nice idea to share how I knew Mother T, right here on my blog, and put down my very own memorial in writing.

When Mother T passed away September 20, 2008, I had known her for about 6 years. I was first introduced to her in 2002, during my first visit to the States, and knew she was going to the same Baptist church as my in-laws and was very close to the Filipinos in the church. In fact, I thought she was Filipino for a while there. She was always smiling, was always very kind, and laughed a lot at our jokes, even when they were said in Tagalog.

One of Joyce Tesseneer’s homemade cake creations.

I really got to know her more when I finally emigrated here in 2007. And this is what I discovered: She was a cool cake baker, always coming up with ingenuous designs for her cakes. In fact, she made one in the form of a baby carriage for a baby shower that I attended.

She loved Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther movies. And this I found out during the 2008 Christmas party, where we both ended up talking about Sellers in fake French accents as the rest of her church-mates were agog at our silliness. We said we would borrow and watch those classics together one day.

She loved music. She was a member of the choir at Heritage Baptist, and sang her heart out every Sunday. She always wanted to play an instrument, and in fact, took a grand total of one guitar lesson from me in order to brush up on strumming guitar chords. Payment for her guitar lesson? A lovely Reese’s Peanut Butter ice cream sundae at a Baskin-Robbins store (and I can’t have that same sundae ever again without thinking of her). We told stories and enjoyed that afternoon immensely.

I also remember simply noodling at the piano after one Sunday evening service while everyone else was chatting, on their way home after a long day. I was playing a tune from the hymnal. She sat down next to me and sang it with me. She did the melody and I did the tenor part. The song “Sweet Will Of God” now breaks my heart.

She enjoyed life. She was always smiling. She was always laughing or telling jokes. Despite the many sad stories she told me about herself, her attitude towards life was one of constant joy in the Lord. This made her an exceptional servant — humble and willing to be used in the service of God. And this made her a beacon to others. A magnet drawing people towards the comfort and wisdom that she willingly shared with others.

Mother T (left) and Mrs. Fong (right) trying to answer trivia questions at a church baby shower.

Most of all, and probably most importantly, she loved the Lord and took every opportunity to tell people about His saving grace.

I remember one day after a particularly moving message about hell from a visiting pastor, she came up to me and asked: “Lionel. How can you sit there and not respond to something like that? I don’t want you to go to hell. Is Jesus Christ your personal savior?” I told her simply, that I do respond but in my Catholic way. And yes, I accepted the Lord as my savior… in the Catholic Church. And she answered: “Then I just want you to know I have been praying for you. And I want you to know you are loved.” And she gave me a hug.

She was like that. A mother figure for many of us. A loving woman who brought her zest for life and for the Lord into everything she did, whether it was baking cakes, talking about favorite foods, or printing out the prayer guides for Sunday Bible classes.

I know that when she sang “Sweet Will of God” with me that day at the piano, she meant every word, and so I end with the words from the hymn:

“Sweet will of God, still fold me closer, till I am wholly lost in Thee.”

She will be missed. But she lives now with the Lord, having lived a life that was ever close to the will of God. And I am blessed for having known her.