Walk a mile in THEIR shoes

On one occasion when I was in one of the worst slums (tugurios or barrios bajos) in the city of Manizales, Colombia I was caught in a torrential downpour. I pressed tightly against the wall of one of the slum shacks hoping that the small overhang of the roof would keep a bit of the rain off me. The door to the shack opened and an old woman appeared and invited me to step inside and get out of the rain. "Thank you, Senora," I said, "but I really do not want to disturb you." "No problem," she responded and again invited me in. I stepped inside this little dwelling, about nine feet wide by nine feet long, barely large enough for a bed and a small table. It was the epitome of poverty. The woman looked ancient, dressed in black and looked like she was only skin and bones. I wondered how she managed to live under the conditions I envisioned from her surroundings so I said to her, "Senora, I am a college teacher. You and I will never meet again. I would like to tell my students about persons like you who live under the most trying circumstances. May I ask you several personal questions? Would you help me inform my students about how you live?"

She studied me for a few moments and responded, "Si senor." My first question was "How old are you?" "72" "Do you live alone?" "Yes." "How do you survive? How do you get the income to pay your rent, purchase food and other necessities?" She quietly said "I am a whore." "How much do you charge?" "Whatever I think I can get. Sometimes ten cents, some times more." "How many times a week do you have visitors?" "Not too often, three, four, five times. It varies." "Is that enough to live on?" "Barely."

Then with emotion she said "Mister, when you tell your students about me tell them that this is not the way I thought I would live when old." Then, with emphasis and almost shouting she said "But I have the right to survive!" [Pero yo tengo el derecho de sobrevivir!] "Tell your students not to judge me. They have no right to judge me. If they think this is not what an old lady should be doing have them find a way to help me. But do NOT judge me. I do what I have to do to survive and I HAVE THE RIGHT TO SURVIVE!"

I apologized for having disturbed her and, passing a bit of money to her, I assured her that my students will be deeply touched at her situation and would fully understand her feelings. The rain having stopped I departed.

I have often thought about this brief exchange with this poor woman. Don't we have an expression "Do not judge a person until you have walked a thousand miles in their shoes?" or something similar? My experiences with the refugees of war torn Korea as well as with the extremely poor in various nations (including our own) has taught me not to judge but rather to try to seek understanding. To make moral judgments without understanding is merely prejudice, i.e., a pre-judgment. I am not suggesting that we suspend all judgments or evaluations of the behavior of others but rather that we delay such judgments until we have sufficient information to allow us to do so without prejudice. Not a simple matter, to be sure. I do not pretend that I am without prejudice but I sure try to correct my thinking and my behavior when I become aware or am made aware of such prejudices on my part.

gfd

Bellingham Washington Environs

---

We had old friends (Joe Beard and Marj Powell) with us on Thursday and Friday last week. He is an avid photographer and took over 400 photos. Here are a few of them that I am passing on to you so you can get an idea of our living environment, not only around the house but nearby. Victoria, BC, Canada is only 3 hrs. by boat through some magnificent islands.
------
Mt. Baker is but one hour from the house by auto. Big Rock Garden Park was our former nursery and garden. It is now the city sculpture garden. We access it by our private gate since it is adjacent to our home garden.

gfd

Lake Whatcom, Washington

Joe Beard writes:

While in Bellingham we visited the Drake home several times and a pleasure it was. Their place is in woods overlooking Lake Whatcom which we stopped by on our way to their house. The area surrounding the house is filled with collected objects as is the interior -- like visiting a museum in itself. George and Mary Ann have done a marvelous job of creating the home of their lives.
---

Check out his albums of pictures here:

1) Lake Whatcom and the Drake Home

http://picasaweb.google.com/jwbeard1124/LakeWhatcomAndTheDrakeHome

2) Visit To Mount Baker and Snoqualmie National Forest

http://picasaweb.google.com/jwbeard1124/VisitToMtBakerSnoqualmieNationalForest

Veterans

Hello friends:

One day I spotted a note in the local newspaper asking Veterans to share stories with classes at the local high school on Veteran's Day. I decided to volunteer and went to the school at the appointed time on that November day a number of years ago. I was one of about 50 veterans from various wars, some in uniforms with all their medals pinned to their jackets or shirts, some in ragged jeans, some, like me, in casual attire. We were each assigned to a class and a student escorted us to our appointed classroom.

...

Sgt. George F. Drake, 326th CRC, Korea, Summer of 1953.

In the room I was introduced as a Korean War Veteran. I was in front of the class sitting cross legged on the top of the teacher's desk.

'Well, you have a live one." I said. "What do you want?"
"Tell us war stories." called out one kid.
"I don't tell war stories." I responded. "War is not entertainment."
"Did you enlist or were you drafted?" asked another.
"I enlisted."
"Why?"
"Because I had a sense of duty to my country and wanted to help in the fight to protect our democracy. This is a Senior Civics class is it not? Will one of you please define 'democracy'?"
No one ventured to do so.

"OK," I said, "Let us take a different approach. Next week I will be hosting a delegation of visitors from Latin America including the Minister of Education from Panama, a newspaper editor from Costa Rica and a State Senator from Guatemala. They will be in Bellingham for three days to learn a bit about democracy in a small town in America. What should I do with them?" One student suggested that I could take them to the movies.

"Last year I saw the movie 'Rambo' in Chungking, China." I said. "Would you suggest that the Chinese learned anything about American democracy by seeing that film?" Silence.
"You could have a beer bust" suggested one of the boys.

"This is almost the anniversary of 'Krystallnacht' which was in November of 1938. I am sure that began with a beer bust, or ended with one. No, having a beer party is not a symbol of a democratic society."

I pointed to a boy in the back of the room and asked him what I should do with my visitors to show them democracy in Bellingham. The teacher intervened and said "Juan just arrived from Spain as an exchange student and speaks little English. It would be better to call on someone else. I responded, "En la semana entrante voy a tener un grupo de visitantes de America Latina. Que hago yo con ellos para muestrar a ellos la vida democratica en Bellingham?" Immediately he responded, "Se puede llevar los a un reunion del ayuntamiento." [You could take them to a meeting of the city council.]

A girl in the front row asked if I would translate for her what he said and I responded "No. Too many people think that the only way to defend or to fight for your country is to shoot someone. You might begin by learning another language. Visit other countries. Sit on a rock in a slum and chat with the residents. Find out what their dreams are and how they feel about Americans. Learn something about their culture, their social systems and their values. In learning about them you will also learn more about yourselves. You might even learn what it is to be an American."

We spent the rest of the period discussing how America treats her veterans. Not a happy time was had by all.

After resigning from the United States Information Agency I volunteered to be a local/regional host for the USIA International Visitor Program which brought influential visitors from countries all over the world for a 30 day visit to the US to 'see democracy in action' and to get to know the American way of life and culture first hand. I served in that role as a volunteer for over 30 years and hosted more than 100 delegations from nations all over the globe. One visitor was Amalia Garcia, currently governor of the state of Zacatecas but at that time she was a Senator in the Mexican Congress and the Vice President (later to become President) of the PRD, the left leaning political party of Mexico. I had one of our Washington State Senators tell her about the laws and ordinances that we had delineating how one files for public office, the paperwork one had to fill out about one's wealth, property, etc., public disclosure of money donated to one's campaign war chest, who it was from and how it was spent, etc, etc, etc. I took her to meetings of supporters of the Republican candidate for office and a neighborhood gathering for a Democrat candidate. She went door-belling with one of our women candidates for public office. On election day she went to the polls with me, entered the booth with me, watched me punch the ballot card and watched as I dropped it in the ballot box. She then went with that box in the car to the courthouse where she followed the box to the room where the lock was opened, where each ballot was checked for 'chads', where there were observers from both parties. She watched as the cards were put into the counting machine and then went outside to the public area and watched the results being posted on the bulletin board. When the results were all in we went to several parties of the winners of the various contests.

She spent 30 days touring the US but when she was debriefed by staff in the US Embassy on her return to Mexico City all she wanted to talk about was her four days in Bellingham! The following year when my wife and I were in Mexico City we called her Senate office and asked if we could have lunch together. She asked us to meet her at a certain restaurant and on arrival we found that joining us were about ten members of the Mexican Congress, all members of the PRD political party and also the Public Affairs Officer of the U.S. Embassy who had arranged her trip to the US. At the end of the delightful lunch she said that since we had shown her anything she wanted to see in Bellingham she wanted to know what we would like to see in Mexico City. I responded that I wanted to see one of the poorest barrios of the city. I said I wanted to see where the people who picked through garbage in the city garbage dumps lived. "That's easy," she replied. "Those people are all members of our party." Turning to one of the delegates at the table she asked him to show us some of the poor sectors of his district later that day. That visit is a story for another day.

gfd

Scouting Values at War

George F. Drake with a delivery of packages of aid for the company orphanage sent by folks 'back home' to their boys in Korea 1952

Hello friends:

Soon it will be ten years since I began studying the impact of the Korean War on the children of that nation. In 1998 an old man, probably no more than three or four years older than I am, but who looked much older than I was at that time, came into my office. He asked what was the Korean War Children's Memorial Project that he had heard about. When I explained the purpose of my research he began to weep. Shortly he pulled himself together and said "I have a Silver Star for my service in the Korean War along with three Purple Hearts. I could accept the GI to my right or left being killed. That was the nature of war. I could never accept what was happening to the children. That memory has haunted me ever since. My wife and my children do not know that I served in the Korean War. I never wanted to discuss it or think about it again." and, standing up, he offered me his hand and left my office. I never got his name.
One had to teach our young men to aim a gun at another human being and shoot to kill. One did not have to teach them to try to solace a crying child, feed a hungry child, take an injured child to a medic or to find shelter for the homeless child. That came with being American. Our American armed forces took to Korea (and Iraq and elsewhere) with them our basic values of love and compassion for little children, the most innocent victims of any war.

Shortly after arriving in Korea I was assigned to the 326th Communication Reconnaissance Company. I found out that the men in my company had founded an orphanage called the Manassas Manor Orphanage and I immediately began volunteering with the company orphanage committee. When our little orphanage closed and the children moved to the Seoul Sanitarium and Hospital Orphanage run by Mrs. Grace Rue I continued to help in every way that I could. That experience led me to feel that the celebrations for the 50th anniversary of the Korean War was missing the humanitarian element of the war so I took it upon myself to do something about it. That initiative resulted in the website <http://www.koreanchildren.org/> which has 1,500 pages of photographs and stories of the relationship of our GIs with the war child of Korea. It also resulted in the photo exhibit "GIs and the Kids - A Love Story" which I will elaborate on some other time.

All sorts of things came out of that project. One of the most moving moments for me was when I opened the following letter. It was a 'payoff' for all my volunteer labor and research, far more rewarding than money.

Dear Mr. Drake and members of the 326th CRC:

My name is Eddie Cho and I am one of your Manassas orphans. I was about four years old when the Korean War broke out. I remember my father being taken captive by the North Koreans and my mother being so sick and eventually dying of the black plague while trying to escape, on foot, from Seoul. This left my brother Woo Yeon (7 years old), my sister Ja Yeon (2 years old) and myself homeless, hungry and desperately hopeless. I experienced a lot of sadness and loneliness during those days. But the miracle of being taken to your shelter where my brother, my sister and I lived for many months will never be forgotten.

I have often thought of the American soldiers from the 326th Communication Reconnaissance Company who took care of us at the Manassas orphanage. I had always wished that I could have known their names and addresses so that I could have expressed my gratefulness, but all I remember about them was that they were the 326th Company. I didn’t have any photos of them or names. What I did not realize was that Mrs. Rue [Director of the orphanage where all Manassas children were taken] knew you and your unit very well. Recently, Mrs. Rue visited our home and brought your letter and photos, in connection with your work in Korea.
You cannot imagine how thrilled I was to learn of your whereabouts, to see the photos, read your letters, hear of the Korean War Children’s Memorial, and the 50th year anniversary celebration. My life long wish to personally thank you for your loving care, kindness, and empathy shown toward me and each orphan you cared for, has come true. I love the pictures-what a treasure! I have never seen anything like them. They remind me so very much of my childhood days. I have reviewed each picture over and over again. And I can assure you that my best memories were when I was at the Manassas orphanage under your care.

You gave us the best food and better care than all other orphanages in Korea. Under you, Mr. Drake, I had my first sip of Coca-Cola; it felt like a thousand bee stings on my tongue. At first I thought I drank the wrong thing and would die. So many wonderful memories; you teaching us English, telling stories, singing songs, taking us to church on Sunday mornings. Oh how we loved to ride to church in the American army truck. We were kings of the world! You included us in each and every recreational activity, such as games and movies, with the spare time you had. I cherish and thank you for those precious memories you provided for us at the Manassas orphanage.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened to me if you and Mrs. Rue had not cared for me. Today I have no riches, fame, or social rank, which our society views as successes, but I have been blessed with much greater riches. Those riches include Christian principles, the blessed hope, the inner joy, and eternal values I hold in such high esteem today. I am certainly convinced that you made it possible for me to be the person that I am today. No words can express my sincere gratitude for all you have done. I know that God will surely reward you in heaven someday for each one of us that you cared for and loved. This is my sincere desire for you, Mr. Drake, the 326th CRC and Mrs. Rue.

I am anxiously looking forward to seeing you in Bellingham on the 27th of July. [2003, 50 years after the cessation of hostilities in the Korean War]. What a reunion that will be! I can hardly wait to see you again. Thank you so very much from the bottom of my heart, Mr. Drake and to your gracious colleagues from the 326th Comm. Recon. Co. for everything you did. May God bless you and keep you forever. With all my love and admiration I remain,

Sincerely yours,

Eddie Cho

Photo of Eddie Cho taken in November of 1952 by George F. Drake

In my research I was able to document that our servicemen and women had saved the lives of over 10,000 children during the three years of that war. We helped support over 54,000 children in more than 400 orphanages, most of which we built or repaired. We donated more than two million dollars from our pay which was little more than $50 per month. We wrote home to family, friends, neighbors, home town newspapers seeking help and received thousands upon thousands - not of packages - but tons of packages of material for the children and their care-givers. Our GIs (all branches of service, men and women alike) truly constituted an "army of compassion." What scout values would you suggest were reflected in that humanitarian aid and compassion our servicemen rendered the children of Korea during the Korean War? Are not these values the same ones that also help define us as American? Do not for a moment think that all societies have these same values. Unfortunately our "Army of Compassion," then and now, is largely ignored by the press, a press that is more interested in the abuse of those values by one or a small group of servicemen or women.

With love for all children, I remain,

George F. Drake

Lone Scout Magazine Nov. 1948

Physcially Strong

I gave some thought to the Scout Oath today as I went on my noon-time bike ride. "On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; to help other people at all times; to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight."

At 11 a.m. today I was fed up with working on the computer and got suited up for a bike ride. I just had to get those muscles working and get the restlessness out of my bones. I ride a titanium steed with dura ace components, ksyrium wheels and use Carnac shoes with Shimano SPD-SL road bike pedals. The bicycle weighs about 17 lbs. A dog bought it for me! Well, not really. The insurance company of the owner of a dog that took me down several years ago bought it for me. The outfit that I wear when on the road is the Saunier Duval yellow outfit. I like it because it is so VISIBLE. No one can run me over and tell the judge that they did not see me. It just so happens that the Saunier Duval kit that I have was used by Chris Horner, an American rider from Oregon, when he rode in the Tour de France several years ago. When he left the team he sold his kit on eBay and I purchased it. I also like it because it makes people think that I am a fast cyclist. I work on that deception. The Spanish Saunier Duval team withdrew from the Tour de France race this year when two Italian riders on their team were caught using drugs. I will have to keep my eyes open, checking to see if more of those yellow outfits will now show up on eBay as riders get rid of their 'tainted' team clothing. I have no problem wearing the Saunier Duval clothing since I, too, use drugs. Daily I take half an aspirin and half a Zocor pill for cholesterol. Besides, I subscribe to the scout law wherein I am to be "thrifty." Maybe in this case I am not thrifty but cheap. I am not about to dump these rags for something else merely because of the morally corrupt behavior of several cyclists in Europe.

I am six foot two inches tall and weighed 167 lbs today at the YMCA when I came out of the shower. I try to keep my weight at 165 or less. On my way into the YMCA there was a nurse taking blood pressure readings so I stuck out my arm. 110 over 60. Not too bad for a 78 year old I would guess. My health insurance company pays the membership fee to the Y for my wife and myself and for our disabled son. I think that is a good policy as being physically fit keeps us away from the doctors and hospitals until we really need them. Besides, one can think better (mentally awake) and just feel a hell of a lot better when in good physical condition.

Today I headed north. There were quite a few clouds in the sky and a bit of a wind from the south. The temperature on the reader board at the bank said 68 degrees F. I rode alone. In ten minutes I was out of town on a two lane country road that went along Bellingham Bay providing beautiful views of the water and the San Juan Islands off to the west. For awhile there was a wide shoulder but soon that disappeared and I took the lane (rode in the center of the lane.) I try to get a good work out on my ride which is usually between one hour and an hour and a half in duration. On the level portions of the road I ride about 23 to 25 miles per hour. I generally average between 17.5 and 18.5 mph on rides over one hour duration. [ On my 72nd birthday I did a ride of 72 miles at an average speed of 18.9 mph. but I have to admit that I was 'sucking wheel' (drafting) much of the way.] On uphill grades I slide back in my seat and push hard. I rarely stand as that is very inefficient. When going down a hill I rarely go over 37 miles per hour. In a race at times I will go up to 45 mph but I guess I am too chicken to go faster. My strategy to win a race now is to out-live the competition since bicycle racing is by age categories. I got a gold medal in the Washington State Time Trial Championships several years ago. Not only was I the only rider in my age group, I was 12 years older than the next older competitor. There were very few cars on the road today and they gave me wide berth when passing. Often when riding in the country I will see bald eagles, red tailed hawks, blue herons, wild turkeys and, in the late fall there are flocks of trumpeter swans but for some reason today I saw few birds.

On the road heading south I had wonderful views of Mt. Baker, our local snow capped peak, glistening in the distance to the west, a mere 50 miles from my house to the snow line.
As I came back into the Bellingham city limits I noticed another cyclist who had stopped and was looking at a map. So I stopped to offer help and found that he was from Japan and had flown to Canada to participate in a supported 1,000 mile bike ride. Now that the ride was over, having ended in Vancouver, BC, Canada, a mere 50 miles from Bellingham, he decided to ride to Seattle which is 90 miles to the south of us. He will take his plane home from there. He spoke excellent English and is from Kobe. When I told him I expected to be in Tateyama, Chiba Prefecture, Japan in October and would be taking my shoes, pedals and helmet with me and would be borrowing a bike so I could ride each morning he said he would ride from Kobe to Tateyama (hundreds of miles away) and go on a ride with me! I led him into town and offered to buy him lunch but he declined as he had eaten not too long before. It is a habit of mine to treat any long distance cyclists from other parts of the US or other countries that I encounter on the road to a lunch at a small restaurant in town run by a highly competitive cyclist. It is a hang out for cyclists, runners, tri-athletes, etc. I have been treated to so many meals as a scout travelling in scores of countries that I have hundreds, if not thousands, of meals to repay. I rode with my new friend to the southern edge of town and saw him on his way down Chuckanut Drive, the magnificent road that winds along the edge of the waters of Bellingham Bay, one of the most scenic roads in America. Ah, yes, a Scout is 'friendly' and 'helps other people at all times.' I did not offer help to this Japanese cyclist and befriend him because the Scout Oath and Law mandated that I do so. I behaved as I did because that was my way of life, my modus operandi. I had internalized the Scout Oath and Law as a kid so it was part of my life and needed no conscious checking against the Scout manual to see if I was on the right track. These Scout values shape us as individuals and make us what we are. I am talking about behavior, not rhetoric as I note in my comments at the end of this bit of musing.

Then back to the Y to clean up. Total time on the bike = one and a half hours. I do this at least three times a week. Sunday mornings I do a 30 to 50 mile ride. Today was my level ride, i.e., no real hills. Other days I will ride to the south which begins with a four mile up hill climb. That is a good work out. Sure it is hard but is there a way to keep physically fit without pushing the body a bit? There is an expression in cycling called 'empty miles' when one is not getting aerobic benefit nor anaerobic benefit from the effort expended. It is just sauntering along but on a bicycle. I didn't get into serious cycling until I was about 65 years old. A friend of mine who was a former national level racer saw me on a club bike ride one day and convinced me that I should dump the 'hybrid' bike that I had for a real bicycle. "How much?" I asked. "$1,800" was the reply. When I broached the subject to my wife she 'went up the wall' at that price tag. I countered that the cost was less than a month in a nursing home and would keep me out of one for at least ten years....therefore a good investment. "Only if you ride it" she said, "so buy it but get your a== out the door and put on the miles". Shortly afterwards, at a meeting of parents of developmentally disabled children, I met a newcomer to town with an autistic child. He asked me to help get his son specialized programming in the local schools. I said I would do so if he would give me help in learning cycling skills. In our conversation I found out that he had been the coach and trainer of the Edmonton, Alberta (Canada) bicycle racing team. So for about a year I had some really good, physically rigorous training. I complained to him, calling him a sadist, when I felt he was pushing me too hard and he responded that I was a physical wimp, that I had to learn how to suffer! I finally agreed with him, not that I was a wimp but that to achieve one's goal of physical fitness one had to push oneself to the edge of current ability and to excel one had to learn how to suffer, i.e., push till it hurts.

Frankly, I get ticked when I visit a troop meeting and find that the Scoutmaster has a belly that hangs over his belt so far you can not see the belt buckle. What kind of an example is he giving the boys? Isn't the Scout Oath for him also? When on one of my Sunday morning rides (this one a 55 mile ride) I noticed a Boy Scout Pancake Feed advertised at a fire hall. So I pulled off the road to use the facilities and chat with the scouts and troop leaders. I found four of the adults, the scoutmaster and several other troop leaders in full uniform, outside the fire hall smoking! and with big bellies! I am afraid that I made them a bit uncomfortable as I challenged them to abide by the values they supposedly were teaching the youth. Oh, they had all the patches on their shirts showing all their accomplishments, camps attended, rank, etc. but that big belly and a cigarette cheapened those proud insignias of Scouting. I told them my feelings before I took off, saddened that more self discipline wasn't shown by the scout leadership in that group. Strangely, I had not been a registered Scout or involved in the Scouting movement for over 50 years and yet I still felt that way.

'nuf for tonight.

Small World - Allenwood Grade School

Small world we live in. I saw an old friend today, who asked if I was still deep into Scouting. I gave him a brief run though. We talked about fishing, working at his farm when I was in college, and then I brought up our ongoing exchanges. As I related more of your youth years as a Scout, he said, what is his name? When I said George Drake he roared.

John Geiser was in the 7th grade and you were the 8th grade. The small school had the two classes combined. He told me he was the fastest boy or girl in the school for several years, until your family moved in. Apparently you were just as fast, but much taller than John, and your long legs were just too much for him.

He would love to hear from you. He is a Sportswriter for the Asbury Park Press. He has been with them for, gosh maybe the mid-50's. He and my Dad were hunting and fishing buddies. They took my twin brother along on many "adventures". He used many of them in his weekend articles, because they were outrageous and really did not need much, if any embellishment to make them fun stories.He is known for his fishing coverage, particularly salt water. You can pick get the APP online, and go to the weekly Fishing Section which he edits.

He is a farmer at heart. He has about 20 acres here in Wall with his wife and son George. They have a very good summer farm market. You go in and get all the local news while you get fresh vegetables.

BTW; He envies your azalea growing climate.

Bill Pearce
Kikey Ktemaque Auwen Takachsin