Fun Fact: If You Like Water, Then You Already Like 70% of Me - a Blog Origin Story
"I love your posts," he said over a basket of tortilla chips. "There is something about your voice; it's so authentic, and some of the things you say, the way you look at things.... It has me rolling in the aisles." He gave me a sly look. "Even if I don't agree with half of what you say."
"Half!" I choked on a mushroom from my bibimbap. "HALF?!"
"Okay, maybe not half," he said, twinkling. "A quarter."
"A quarter?! What does that even mean? You don't agree with a quarter of what I say?"
"Well, let's just say that you do take a VIEW on things..."
"You're right, I do. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. I just mean, there's no doubting where you stand on anything. And I was just wondering where it comes from. That commitment to always taking a stand."
I slumped against the back of the booth and slurped my watermelon sangria. "I don't know," I said, crunching ice and staring at nothing in particular. "Maybe it's genetic," I mused, flicking my eyes back to his. "Do genes work that way? Maybe it just feels genetic because I can't remember any other way of being. Hey! You're a Ham-Fan. It's like when Hamilton asks Burr, 'If you stand for nothing, Burr, what will you fall for?'"
"Good line."
"Right? That's how I feel. Maybe it comes down to the power of story and the charisma of storytellers. Which is really just a fancy way of saying 'how I was raised.' I come from generations of underdogs engaging in what can only be described as ludicrous levels of derring-do; it's all danger, and sacrifice, impossible feats, monstrous evils, miracles, survival against all odds. It's doing the right thing even when no one is looking. And then imagine further that these people all turned out to be poets, philosophers and storytellers too - either literally, as published authors, or more figuratively in the way of street philosophers. It's very cinematic. I've been steeping in improbable deeds seen and remembered through the eyes of poets and philosophers all my life; I guess it is inevitable that some of it would rub off on me."
"Interesting," he said, nodding.
"I'm sorry," I said, "can we just go back for a second? Did you really say you don't agree with a QUARTER of what I say?"
"Well another way of looking at is that I agree with 75% of you."
Although this conversation really happened - just a couple of weeks ago in fact - it is also representative of many such conversations that have been dropped at my doorstep over the years, and not always featuring watermelon sangria. Each time it would happen, I would think to myself, "hey, if you can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen." Over time and because it made me chuckle, I began to think of the energetic space I curate around me - mostly accidentally - as "Chan's Peking Kitchen." It's some people's favorite take-out joint, while others just can't handle the heat. It is where I experiment and push boundaries and "cook up" some of my best stuff, though, so I don't foresee myself leaving the kitchen any time soon. And my feeling has always been that if you have the guts to stick around, you might just get some tasty and authentic fare before you leave.
I've been "cooking" in this manner on Facebook for years, but now I want a dedicated space to hash out ideas that tickle, challenge and scintillate me. More immediately, I want a place to experiment with writing and storytelling. It's tradition! My parents are gone now, as are most of the elder "poets and philosophers" who molded me as a child. Each in his or her own way kicked the pants out of this life. But in my father's life, in particular - the challenges that he faced and the unique ways he had of meeting them, from earliest childhood to his final days - I believe there is a template for many. Ultimately, I want to turn that into a book, a trusted bed-side companion that calls us all to our own best life.
Dad was a man of extreme dualities - yin and yang - which, when alchemized in the human heart, managed to create a transcendently beautiful whole that has inspired legions. As a Colonel in the US Army, this was both literally as well as figuratively true. The phrase "peaceful warrior" comes to mind. He had the inner calm and meditative core of a martial arts master, but could whip up hurricanes around him. Other times, the hurricane found him, but he always just batted it out of the sky with a proverbial shrug.
Like the mascot he wore on his "Ramblin' Wreck" college jacket from Georgia Tech - the Yellow Jacket, or wasp - Dad was a peaceful spirit who walked with powerful, war-like sting.
Since he died in the spring of 2016, I have found myself turning to tales and remembrances of his life and deeds whenever I am at a crossroads. It recalls the old days when he would tell me, as I rushed out the front door to meet friends, that he'd "leave the light on" for me. He and Mom are gone now, but their lives continue to light my way. And there is a not-so-secret part of me that thinks they can help light yours too.
One of my favorite bits of dialogue from the movie, The Princess Bride, comes right at the beginning, when the grandfather first tries to "make the case" for reading the book he brought with him for his grandson. The first time I saw that, and that was long ago now, I said to myself, "that sounds like the Book of Chan!" And it's kind of how I think this blog (and eventual book) is going to turn out in the end.
In case you missed it:
Grandson: Has it got any sports in it?
Grandfather: Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles!
Grandson: Doesn't sound too bad. I'll try and stay awake.
Grandfather: [sarcastically] Oh, well, thank you. That's very kind of you. Your vote of confidence is overwhelming.
"I'm a Ramblin' Reck from Georgia Tech, and a Helluva Engineer." Dad was the first in his family to go to college. Here he is line fishing in the waterways near Savannah, Georgia with his sister-in-law, Merle, ca. 1933. The Yellow Jacket mascot on the jacket is a wonderful metaphor for the man himself. And look at his pith helmet, cocked to one side. Who but he could even get away with it? The chuckle that might have bubbled up in your throat upon first sight of it, would simply have died there. The man was colorful, but nothing if not authentic.
After WWII, Dad went on to become an optical engineer with Kodak, and worked on the Top Secret CORONA Project, which was only declassified relatively recently, but which is now credited with having helped to end the Cold War. His task? To create a camera lens that could take the first pictures of Earth from space, with resolution high enough to discern between two yellow lines on a highway, or to read the headline of a newspaper. He held 13 patents in aero-space engineering, many of which continue to be in use today.
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