On a lazy Sunday evening, I channel surfed and came upon an episode of This is Life with Lisa Ling.  I’ve watched several episodes before, and I found them to be deeply interesting.  Lisa Ling does an amazing job of covering the topics objectively, without judgement.  Somehow her compassion and humanity permeate each episode, independent of topic.  She presents the topics in a way that we see and empathize with the people, not merely flatten them and bucket them into a particular category.

This particular episode, “Interracial Love” (Season 9, Episode 2) talks about the stigma and challenges of couples of different races.  I, a Chinese man, coupled with a Caucasian woman, found this episode especially interesting.  Naturally, one story covered how a father broke ties with his son, because he married and had children with a Black woman.  It showed this relationship open up over the course of years.  I found this story both deeply distressing and quietly optimistic.

Continue reading “Freedom to practice your faith”

In high school, I once asked a potential math teacher if I may double up Algebra 2 and Trigonometry in order to take Calculus on my senior year.  She responded with “I wouldn’t do it unless you’re a mathematical genius.”  Her mere skepticism sufficiently discouraged me from attempting that feat.  While tethering on the edge of humility and confidence, I backed down.  Though in retrospect, I participated in math contests and regularly scored among the top of my class in each subject; I then went on to engineering school.  While I wouldn’t have worded it precisely that way, I was a mathematical genius.

That said, I don’t practice classical electrical engineering for a living, which is the degree I earned when I graduated.  I don’t spend my professional time solving third order differential equations using Laplace transforms.  As a software engineer, I spend most of my time thinking through either discrete mathematics problems or even statistics.  My mind naturally visualizes spatial problems, which makes me especially good at certain activities, like designing parts for 3d printing.

Continue reading “Religious freedom versus discrimination”

On a late one evening at work during my bachelor days, I converse with a friend.  We disagree on many issues, but we discuss the topics civilly.  On this particular evening, we talk about the US currency.  Here’s the issue, the first sentence in our first amendment outlines freedom of religion, specifically:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion

And much like zero is a number, freedom of religion must therefore include freedom of lack of religion.  In other words, US citizens are equally free to practice agnosticism, atheism, polytheism, and just for completeness Satanism.  If that is the case, doesn’t printing (or minting) the phrase “In God We Trust” on our currency, exclude the aforementioned groups?  And if that’s the case, should we remove it?

However, this post will not discuss that phrase in our currency.  The conversation turned late, and I wanted to leave for home.  Instead of simply telling my friend that it’s late and need to leave, I turn to one of my favorite phrases with which to finish my conversations with him, “You treat me this way, after we built your railroads?

Continue reading “A history lesson, 140 years in the making”

I worked through college, nearly every weekend.  I waited on tables in a number of Chinese restaurants.  Mostly, I allowed the customers enough time to browse through the menu and jotted down their orders.  Occasionally, I would answer their questions about particular menu items.  Every once in a while, they’d ask me to recommend an item or help them narrow it down.  After that it was about timing.

At a very basic level, waiting on tables simply involves getting people what they asked for.  Naturally, subtle differences will enhance the experience.  Timeliness matters, of course.  Good presentation gets you brownie points.  However, some exceptions exist; you can’t serve alcohol to underage drinkers.  Though generally, that’s close to it; you get people what they want.

Continue reading “And marriage for all”

We moved to Florida from Puerto Rico in 1978, about a year after my father’s death.  I had just finished fourth grade in our Catholic school and transitioned into the Broward Country public school system.  During that first year in Florida, I attended a Spanish and English bilingual classroom.  Our convertible classroom sat in the corner of the school, and the few dozen students spanned all grades from the school.  My sister and I spent the entire school day in this room, except for recess.

David, a boy outside of our bilingual program, befriended me during recess.  We could barely communicate, but still he demonstrated a genuine interest in me.  As our friendship grew and the holidays approached, I asked him what his plans were for Christmas.  His face grew stern, and he responded, “I’m Jewish; I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

Continue reading “The paradox of tolerance”

Gum in my hair.  Riding the 407-numbered school bus home from Parkway Middle School made me the target of a number of indignities; one of them was bullies spitting gum in my hair.  These boys sat immediately behind me and tormented me on the miles long ride to the bus stop.  On most days, they simply poked me or slapped my head repeatedly.  On one day, I could hear them plotting, “When the bus stops, let’s jump on the Chinaman.” and did precisely that.  I remember telling our bus driver, as tears streamed down my cheeks, that I wanted a different seat.

As I walked away from that bus with a wad of gum in my hair, I approached a friend’s house.  I didn’t endure the indignity of untangling the gum from my hair; I asked my friend’s mom to simply cut it away.  Did I ever believe that they threatened my life?  No.  Did I believe that I risked serious injury?  Not really.

Continue reading “To indeed make America great again”

On a July morning in 2014, I haul a bag with me into my office; it weighs twenty-three pounds.  I participate in a long-standing tradition at Microsoft.  Upon your work anniversary, you bring in a pound of m&m’s for each year of tenure.  Today, I cross that threshold into 23 years.  Truthfully, I didn’t always participate, I started at 18 years (with 18 pounds) and have participated ever since.  I got the bulk of those at Costco; occasionally, I’d get custom printed m&m’s.

When I first floated the idea with my wife in the preceding months, she marveled, “How do you plan to dispense them?”  I simply responded with “a large bowl”.  This horrified her, and she insisted that I can’t do that.  Eventually, I landed on pouring them into a large plastic jug.  In order for you to get your candy fix, you’d need to pick it up and pour them into a cup.  How did I pour them into the jug?  I cut the bottom off a gallon jug, turned it upside down, and used it as a funnel.  It works well.

Continue reading “Why carry the weight?”

For a number of years, a feel-good story of a cyclist transfixed us.  First, doctors diagnosed a twenty-five-year-old Lance Armstrong with testicular cancer in 1996.  That’s not uncommon, many young athletes become afflicted with serious illnesses.  Second, after he completes his recovery, he proceeds to win the Tour de France, the epitome of bicycle races, in 1999.  Third, he repeated this victory, winning the twenty-plus day bicycle race, six more times.  It had never been done before.

I did not know the name before these victories began.  In fact, I had only a vague familiarity of the Tour de France and really knew nothing about it.  I certainly knew of no names that had won that event.  However, I’ll admit that even I was seduced by the allure of that story.  I started to learn about the event, which includes the types of stages, the different awards, etc.  I learned that Armstrong excelled at the mountain stages; he passed other riders and grew his lead during these stages.

Continue reading “The Lance Armstrong bubble”

Back at Microsoft, my friends and I had a tradition.  Every other week, on Tuesday mornings, we met for breakfast.  We called it The Breakfast Club.  It started many years before, but we had maintained it for that entire time.  We set a time at a nearby cafeteria, we’d even designate a particular portion of the cafeteria among the sea of tables.  First, I order breakfast, a latte, and a pastry.  Next, upon collecting all my food items, I sit down at the designated collection of tables and wait for friends to arrive.

Our collection of friends spanned from people I had known for over a decade to others that I had only met months before.  We simply sat together and chatted about anything at all.  Conversations ranged from talking shop, to family issues, to our current hobbies and plans.  On one particular day, we spoke about current events and the conversation turned to Michigan, in some ways my adopted state.  Meanwhile, one friend speaks of Michigan’s governor and calls her “Gretchen Halfwit”.

Continue reading “Respecting our disagreements”

On a lazy Saturday evening, we make our way to our favorite Italian restaurant, Volterra.  As we approach the front door, all their blinds cover their windows, and we briefly wonder if they opened for business today.  However, we push the door and walk right in.  We arrive early to enjoy Happy Hour at the bar.  The hosting station where they greet guests separates the bar area on the right and the main dining room on the left.

The hostess leads us to our table.  The bar area holds about a half a dozen tables in addition to the bar itself.  They lay out this section intimately, and from our table, we can see everyone in the bar.  We glance through the menus; this includes the menus for dinner menu, Happy Hour, and today’s specials.  After some talking and negotiation, we make our selections, and we end up making a selection from each menu.

Continue reading “A night at an Italian restaurant”