I Am a First Generation Immigrant

Every day I count my blessings and thank God for what I have.  There are so many who are less fortunate.  I have a healthy income, which is just enough to get by comfortably in expensive Silicon Valley.  My retirement plan can use some improvement, but the risks I take in my career path can change that instantly.  I love the fact that I have the freedom to take such risks.

That freedom has been more of an obligation borne out of being a first generation immigrant.  I think more and more about this as a human resources professional.  I witness the talent that comes from other countries and realize that living in the U.S. and becoming a U.S. citizen is in the dreams of so many foreigners, just like it was in the dreams of my parents when they emigrated from the Philippines.

My family and I have been living here for more than 4 decades.  My dad first came here not for work but through the efforts of relatives.  He found work and set up bringing first my mom, then my 3 older brothers (Domingo, Emiliano, and Rizaldy), and then me and my 2 sisters (Beatriz and Rosario).  We were naturalized about 7 years later.  I also have 2 younger brothers (Gabriel and Thomas).  My parents left Gabriel in my aunt's care in the Philippines for almost 10 years.  Tom was born in the U.S. the year we girls arrived.

From what I remember, becoming a U.S. citizen was a piece of cake.  I boarded a plane, came here, went to school, learned English, and then 7 years later took an oath and became a U.S. citizen.  Well maybe I'm exaggerating.  It really was not that easy.  Life was tough growing up here because we were economically disadvantaged and ethnically different.  Also, because I have lived here for so long, I have almost forgotten the tough life we had in the Philippines.

I was very young when we moved to the U.S., and so I don't have very many memories.  I recall bits and pieces, mostly of living almost in squalor over there.  I remember pleasant things like celebrating a holiday by getting on a speedboat over to an island surrounded by baby blue water.  I hated the loud sound of the speedboat, and I remember that it made my little sister cry. I also remember waking up early in the morning to accompany my mom to capture octopus.  We waded in shallow water as the mist hovered over and I could feel the octopus swimming by.  I remember falling and hitting my head on concrete staircase at my grandfather's house.  My head was bleeding.  I still have the scar.  I cried hard mainly to get my older sister in trouble because she pushed me. I remember pulling a fishing pole by its hook and getting the hook caught in my finger.  They had to cut the line and take me to the doctor who pulled it out and stitched up my finger.  My aunt was surprised that I didn't cry at all.  I didn't feel any pain. I remember playing out in the rain.  Rain in the tropics is pleasant, and so it wasn't unusual to see kids playing out in a downpour. I remember attending a funeral.  I was speechless the entire time.  Death was so mysterious to me when I was little. I remember buying things from vendors who traveled up and down our street.  Sometimes it was candy, sometimes it was a shot at winning a prize, sometimes it was food. I remember eating this sour vegetable (or fruit?) called pias that grew from tree trunks or bark.  We would put salt in our hands, pick the pias, dip them into the salt, and pop them into our mouths. I remember eating different fruits, such as jackfruit, lomboy, star apple.  There were many others.  I don't remember what they're called exactly. I remember living in the tiny house across the street from the school.  We were definitely poor, with 9 people living in it.  I remember being bathed in a tub outside.  Our hair would be washed with soap.  We didn't use shampoo until we moved to the U.S.  What a difference. I remember crying when I learned that my dad would be gone for a long time.  I didn't even know that he was moving to the U.S.  I don't remember when my mom moved. I remember feeling the jealousy from neighborhood kids when they learned that I was moving to the U.S.  One of the girls pinched me really hard and took off.  That was a nice parting gift.

I remember traveling on the plane with my older cousins Tino and Dolores.  They were moving to the U.S. too and accompanied us on our journey.  I was not a big fan back then of traveling.  When we landed, I remember my cousin Tino becoming excited when he recognized a familiar face in the waiting crowd. I remember traveling from SFO to Mountain View, where my dad had set up a home.  It was nighttime, and the lights on the freeway, on the hills, and all around were mesmerizing. I remember eating a hamburger for the first time.  It was huge and delicious. I remember eating a red apple for the first time.  It was also delicious.

I remember going to school and starting kindergarten.  I didn't know a word of English, but I understood my kindergarten teacher when she was explaining that the mats or towels to nap on belonged in the cubbyholes.  It was as if I absorbed English immediately.  I became fluent in English in kindergarten.

Our assimilation was quick and complete.  I did so well academically that I skipped second grade.  All along I knew we were different.  Growing up in Mountain View back then as an immigrant was not easy.  We were subjected to prejudices and made fun of.  Other kids made fun of my skin color.  They would tease me about how I smelled.  We would smell like fried fish sometimes when going to school.

We lived on welfare in the beginning.   My parents had 8 kids, and we were living on my dad's minimum wage income.  The house had 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, a small living room and a small kitchen.  It was more of a home for migrant workers.  Other kids would tease me about being poor and about having to go to the laundromat to wash our clothes.  I wasn't embarrassed or angry about it.  It was just part of life.  But it certainly was always a relief when we didn't see kids I recognized at the laundromat.  In school, we got free lunch, which eventually became reduced lunch, and then we didn't qualify for welfare anymore.

That was my parents, working hard to improve our lives in the U.S.  They eventually were able to buy and own a home in Sunnyvale.  We moved there when I started high school.  The lifestyle in the U.S. was a far cry from the lifestyle in the Philippines.  In the Philippines, you don't have to work as hard.  There's always a support system or easy labor to survive.  In the U.S., you have to work hard to survive.  It really impressed upon me that I needed to succeed and take every advantage of the freedom and opportunity that this country offers.  I felt obligated.  I still do.

My brothers, sisters, and I are all productive and contributing members of and to society.  We are Americans.  Our kids are Americans. I continue onward with my blessed life and count my blessings.  God brought us here for a reason.  It is a good lot in life.  It has been a long road. And every time I meet immigrants or learn of immigrants, I believe I know what they are trying to accomplish and what they are going through.  They are here to build better lives for themselves and especially for their children, their children's children, and so on.  I know because I am a first generation immigrant.  I have first hand experience.

Array Formulae

I am still awake, refreshing myself on array formulae in Excel.  This stuff is very useful.  If you don't think that Algebra is useful and that it's only necessary to take in order to graduate from high school, I completely disagree.  I use Algebra all the time.

*Sigh*

Oversubscribed

Here I go again - oversubscribing.  I sign up for and commit to so many things that I don't have time to relax.  I'm restless anyway. I don't let the oversubscription stress me out though.

There are positives to overcommitting yourself.  The first is that you stay busy and stay out of trouble.  I've learned that relaxing and thinking too much can sometimes lead you to overanalyze a situation and go nuts.  Or it leads you to surf the internet and find disturbing things.  Or it leads you to pick up the phone and make unnecessary calls or send unnecessary text messages.

Overcommitting also means that you are spending time staying busy and most likely not spending a dime.  My overcommitments are dedicated to helping others for free or to making money.  In either case, I'm not spending money, and so this is a positive result of overcommitment.

Last week, I spent my extra time doing work for another start-up company.  This week I have meetings and deadlines galore. I also learned about help that a couple of other start-ups need, and I'm eager to jump in.  There is the side work that I do for another small company as a favor and for a small amount of money.

I still keep my bowling schedule.  I bowl in a couple of leagues during the week and sometimes bowl in tournaments over the weekend.  I've decided not to bowl in the summer, but I'm replacing that with cross fit and running.

I try to see my family and friends as much as possible, but there are limits.  I can spend time when it's scheduled in advance.  I try to spend as much time to and for myself.  When I do chores at home while watching my favorites television programs, I am at my most relaxed state.  It is my favorite time.  Maybe I should overcommit to doing that more often. 

Busted Bracket Busted My Day

Today was a great day almost all the way through, but something ruined it.  My March Madness bracket got busted.  I didn't even know until I saw it come across the eleven o'clock news at a house that I am usually not at.

The day started with work as usual, with operations running smoothly.  I was looking forward to having lunch with Edward because it was our chance to reconnect and catch up.  We decided to go to Blowfish, and our meeting went very well.

Then I went to get the Audi at the shop.  It was all fixed, and driving it was a treat.  I might have a new baby.  Move over Mustang.

When I returned to work, there were meetings to go to and paperwork to push and process.  Thank goodness we had done the beer bash the day before, because my afternoon became more hectic.  I had to do a hard stop on everything though because I had to pick up Mom and spend quality time with her.

We ran into one of the numerous people Mom knows and drove her to her home in Palo Alto.  When we dropped her off, she invited us into her house.  We stayed for a little bit, and then the news flash about the Georgetown upset completely broke my heart.  What a drag.

Then after dropping Mom off at my sister's house, I went home only to discover that I didn't have my house key.  I called CJ, who was in Oakland at a party, and he said he was in no condition to drive.  Nobody else had  a spare key.  This meant I was locked out.  My house key and my sister's house key look almost the same, and apparently I had the wrong key. I had accidentally swapped keys on the Mustang key chain.

Now I find myself at my sister's house, blogging.  I had to do some work emails first.  It's already about 1:30 a.m. Saturday, and I am restless.  My day went downhill after learning about my March Madness Mistake.  And now I have to wait for CJ to let me into my own home.  Ugh!

Typical Saturday

Usually, when I join a start-up early on, I work both Saturday and Sunday.  I still work here and there on Saturday, but I try to spend more time by myself or with my family.  Family is very important to me.  It's also important that I spend time alone and get personal chores done.

It used to be easy to sleep in on weekends.  As I get I older, I find myself waking up just as early as a regular work day.  Sometimes I wake up earlier.

Today will be a typical Saturday for me.  I will go eat breakfast at Jollibee or McDonald's or Hobee's.  These places are close to me.  I rarely cook breakfast.  I rarely cook any meals for that matter.  Even though I love to cook, I don't like cooking for myself.  On the occasions that I do, it's usually at someone else's house or for guests at my house.

After breakfast, if I don't have a bowling tournament or a family function, I do chores.  The chores could include laundry, vacuuming, mopping the floors, and scrubbing toilets, sinks and showers.  Sometimes I clean out my garage.  Every once in awhile, I clean the porch.  Sometimes it's off to the store to buy water, juice, milk, cleaning supplies, and an inventory of soap and shampoo and toothpaste and paper products.  By 6:00 p.m., I'm done.

Saturday evenings offer a ton of options.  Sometimes I go to clubs with family and friends.   Sometimes I make an appearance at parties.  Sometimes I watch movies and go out to dinner.

That's a typical Saturday for me.  It's dull and boring.  I have plenty of Saturdays that are not typical for me, but I don't want to post on those just yet.  Ho hum.

I am mixing it up a bit today.   I plan to see Les Miserables again with Lien.  She has not seen it yet.  Zaldy will drop off Lien at my place because Zaldy does not want to see it.  That's why Lien has not seen it yet.  She had nobody else to go with. We tried to go see it about a month ago with Peach but we failed that day.  That was a funny incident.  Peach and I had seen it back in January and cried our eyes out.

After that, I'll do my chores and think about what I'll do this evening.  I had plans to go see a show and dinner, but the plans changed last week.  Perhaps I should make this a non-typical Saturday and go see Mom.

Have You Seen Bobby or His Shoes?

This is a running joke with Rajesh.  I saw him earlier today, and I asked him if he saw Bobby.  Rajesh was in New York City last week, and he and I had exchanged emails that he was meeting Bobby. If you don't already know, Bobby is Robert De Niro.  Ever since I told Rajesh about my Bobby story, he says, "Have you seen Bobby?" when something New York City triggers it.  Ahhh, my Bobby story...

When I moved to New York City, our first office location was at Manhattan Mini-Storage.  I found this place to move our company's assets into, including the filing cabinets and files.  I would go to the storage place almost every day to work on files and just get administrative things done.   The rest of the time, I worked in my apartment.

We then moved to an office in East Village at a plug-and-play setup that hosted many other startup companies.  One of them was Kayak - yes, the kayak.com travel site that you see all over television commercials and internet ads today.  I forgot the name of the plug-and-play place, but I remember it was located near Astoria Place that had the Starbucks where they filmed a scene from the first Sex and the City movie.  It was also right across the street from the theater where the Blue Man Group performed.  I lived in West Village, and it only took me about 10 minutes to walk to the East Village office.

We closed our Series B round there.  I remember that too.  I was desperate to run a Windows patch one night because my computer was not cooperating, and so I ended up staying there late.  Walking late at night back to my apartment from East Village to West Village was no bother though.  New York City is safe.

After about 5 months, we wanted to relocate to a place closer to Soho or Tribeca.  We looked around, even in a building in Chinatown. We finally settled on a building in Tribeca in Lower Manhattan.  It turned out to be the Tribeca Film Center, where they prepare and run the Tribeca Film Festival.  Robert De Niro owns the building, and at the time he had an office on the 8th floor.  I'm not sure if it's still the case.  We happened to lease an office on the same floor and even had a desk there that was rumored to have been owned by Jon Stewart.  We even hired a girl (I don't remember her name) who was a former backup dancer for Christina Aguilera.  I think her name was Mary.

There was celebrity-ism everywhere.  However, despite being located there and working in that office early in the morning to late at night almost seven days a week, I did not get to see Bobby.  He could not have been more elusive.

One day, one of my co-workers named Spam said he saw Bobby and Sean Bean.  I should have been with Spam, but I missed out.  Another time, I went to lunch with another co-worker named Anne.  When we returned and got on the elevator, she was trying to get my attention with a look that I couldn't figure out.  I had my back to the lobby as the elevator doors closed.  As soon as they closed, Anne told me that Bobby was in the lobby.  Ugh!  I had missed him again.

Another opportunity I had to see him was when one of his assistants came walking through the floor asking everyone if they had seen Bobby's shoes.  So I knew he must have been in the office that day.  I stepped out of our office to see if I could get a glance, but Bobby did not appear.

Alas, I did not see Bobby or his shoes.  Life went on this way until I eventually moved the company's assets out of Tribeca and back to California into the Campbell office. I have so many start-up war stories and the scars to prove it.  And not seeing Bobby or his shoes are deep scars that I cannot recover from.  If there is a slim chance that Robert De Niro reads my blog, perhaps he can heal them.

Executing the Perfect Crime

Well maybe it's not really a crime, but my sister-in-law and I pulled off the best surprise for one of my brothers last year.  He had absolutely no clue, and we managed to keep it a secret for about 5 months.  It was challenging, but the result was priceless, as displayed on my brother's face.

At the beginning of last year, my sister-in-law Lien asked me what I thought of surprising my brother Zaldy with a trip to the 2012 Indianapolis 500 race.  This race occurs on Memorial Day weekend every year.  It was on our bucket list, we knew we would go one year, and my brother's 50th birthday year of 2012 made sense.  So I told her that we should just book the flights and worry about the details later.

She asked others if they were interested in going.  The only other people who were able to go were his close friend Glen and Glen's sister Sharon.  They live in Los Angeles. I don't remember if it was a coincidence that we booked flights which had a stopover in Los Angeles, but this played well into our surprise for him.

Lien made reservations at a hotel in Downtown Indianapolis, with Lucas Oil Stadium right behind the hotel.  The stadium is where the Indianapolis Colts play.  She also purchased the tickets to the race, with a parking pass, and booked an SUV rental.  All that was left to do was to figure out how to surprise him with the trip. I wanted to surprise him all the way to the counter at the airport.  We had about 4 months left to think about it and decide.  The one scenario I could think of to get him to the airport in the first place was to pretend I was traveling to Indianapolis for a reason.

The opportunity to plant seeds in Zaldy's head came along when I remembered that I purchased raffle tickets for a raffle that would happen at the TNBA bowling league national annual tournament.  The TNBA was hosting it in Indianapolis in 2012 Memorial Day weekend.  What another coincidence!  I showed my brother the tickets that had the date on them and told him I bought them because I was bowling in the tournament and that it would be my first time to travel for one.

Life went on...

Fast forward to the week before our travel date.  I called Zaldy and asked him if he could take me to SFO so that I could travel to Indianapolis to attend the bowling tournament.  Of course he knew that I was telling the truth about the bowling tournament in Indianapolis, but he didn't know that I lied to him about having asked everyone else, including my son CJ, for a ride.  Being the great brother that he is, he immediately said he could take me to the airport.

Lien asked their kids Naomi and Junior and Naomi's husband James to help with the surprise.  We needed all of them to be at the airport to bring their luggage, to record the reaction, and to take the car home.

On the night before the trip, I worked until 1:00 a.m. in preparation for the financing with Google Ventures.  I had to pack some files with me.  I stayed out until about 2:00 a.m. to eat at Pho Mai because I had not eaten most of the day and I was starving.  When I got home, I crashed, excited about the trip and excited about the then secret deal with Google Ventures.

When I woke up, I had to do some more work and do some chores.  I went to the Great Mall to get something to eat.  I procrastinated until almost the very last minute to pack.  I remember receiving the phone call from Lien that they were on their way, and I started to panic.  I decided just to throw stuff into my suitcase and worry about anything missing later.  After all, things can always be purchased at the local stores if you forget to pack it.

When Lien and Zaldy arrived, they parked their car in the garage and came in for a bit.  The first thing my brother asked me was why my bowling bags were still in the garage.  Whoops!  I quickly responded with something I had heard before.  "I FedExed my balls to the hotel already.  It's typical to do that."  Thank goodness he believed me.

On our way up to SFO, Lien and I played it cool.  I was in the back seat, texting my other brother Tom to help.  He works at SFO, and he helped with the surprise by playing his role.  I had talked to him earlier to expect a text from me, which would be the signal for him to call me.

At one point, Zaldy made a comment that made me and Lien look at each other and smile.  "Wouldn't it be nice if I could get on the plane with Yol and go to the Indy 500?  She could bowl and I could go watch the race."  Lien responded, "Yeah right."  I chuckled quietly.

We planted another seed in Zaldy's head.  Lien and I got on the subject of Tom, and we talked about the pictures that Tom had posted recently on Facebook.  Since Zaldy is not on Facebook, he did not know about the pictures we were talking about.  "Did you see Tom's pictures?  Who is that girl with him?"  "I don't know.  He seems to be keeping her a secret."  We went on for a few minutes. This helped with the call I was expecting from Tom.

The phone rang.  I announced to Lien and Zaldy that it was Tom calling.  It was really a one-sided conversation.  "Hi Tom!  What's going on?  You're at work?  Oh, you want us to stop in for a quick bite?  You also want us to meet someone?  Hold on.  Hey guys, do you have time to stop into the airport and meet up with Tom?  He wants us to meet someone."  Being the great brother that Zaldy is, he immediately said yes.  Ha.  Getting him into the airport was easier than I thought.

After we parked at short-term, we headed to the Delta counter, where I told them that Tom would meet us.  When we arrived, Zaldy walked ahead of us, and I had a chance to ask Lien where the kids were.  She said she didn't know and was trying to get a hold of them.  Just then I noticed that Zaldy was looking right at Junior, who was making a terrible attempt to hide.  Junior had his camera with him.  Zaldy walked slowly with his eyes fixed on Junior, as he could not figure out what his son was doing there.  Junior said, "Hi Dad! I'm going to Hawaii!"

Junior was an unexpected face to him.  He could not compute this.  Then he spotted Naomi and James, who were also making a terrible attempt at hiding.  They tried to hide behind a plant - A PLANT.  "Hi Dad!  We're going to Vegas!"  My brother was confused further.  He could not understand why his kids were there.  He certainly looked dumbfounded.

I decided to say my part.  "Hey Zald.  Do you know why I am going to Indianapolis?  I am not going there to bowl.  Do you know what else is going on there?  Of course you do.  The Indy 500!  I am going to the Indy 500!  And I have a ticket and boarding pass for you.  Do you want to come along?"

Zaldy was speechless.  Before he could even say anything, Lien jumped in.  "What's this about?  What?  Did you know about this Zald?  How come I don't know anything about this?  You can't go to Indianapolis.  What is going on?"

He really really looked confused then.  We all started to laugh.  "Surprise!" we said.  Zaldy could not understand it.  He was lost and didn't know what to say.  "We're going to the Indy 500 dummy.  Lien is too."

Then he finally spoke up.  "But I didn't pack anything."  That's when the kids brought around the luggage.  Ahhh, it finally sunk in.  Or did it?  The surprise wasn't over.

After thanking the kids and saying goodbye, we went to the gate.  Zaldy kept shaking his head in disbelief.

Our stopover at LAX was the second part of the surprise.  When we got there, we went to eat at McDonald's.  Zaldy called Glen and told him about the surprise and that we were going to the Indy 500.  Glen played along and listened.  After a couple of minutes, Glen told Zaldy that he had to go because he was going to dinner with Sharon.  He told Zaldy that he would call him back.

As we sat at the gate to wait for our flight, Glen called Zaldy back.  He was on the phone with Glen when Sharon approached.  Zaldy looked at Sharon and again could not compute seeing her unexpected face.  Then Glen appeared.  Zaldy could not believe that this was a further surprise.  After laughing and seeing him get over the shock, we told him the entire story.  The surprise was complete.

We went off to Indianapolis and had a great time, even though I missed kissing the bricks at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  The trip itself can be an entire blog.  I missed out on the bricks because I had to take some time off from vacation to run payroll and work on the Google deal.  During the rest of 2012, I learned from Lien that my brother was really emotionally touched by what we had done.  I asked him if he would be able to surprise Lien on her 50th in the same manner or would be able to top it.  He said, "No way."  Lien and I had pulled off the crime of the century...