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14Wi n g s pa nopinionMay 4, 2009lccc.wy.edu/wingspanBroke lifestyle brings rich life lessonsco-a&e editorDown and out times lead to desperate measuresDominicBenintendeDear Editor:Recently, I wrote ane-mail to the LaramieCounty CommunityCollege communityasking for their feedbackon a positionstatement “opposingbullying, harassment,and hate crimes.” Theresponses I receivedwere quite diverse,yet, overall, supportivein nature.Toilet paperis a horriblesubstitute forcoffee filters and viceversa—but sometimesyou have to do what ittakes to get by.In recent months, Ihave used many productsin unusual waysand have made evenmore bizarre shorttermlife choices as Islipped into poverty.Actually, the bestpart of being brokeis observing how youadapt. I’m not doingextremely weird stuffyet, but I’m gettingclose.Recently, in mypursuits of food,money and happiness,I have:• Used dish soap towash my body;• Looked in the mycouch over andover because Ithought, “Hey,maybe, this timethere will bechange in there”;• Built a stage for anElton John concertthat I was not aleditor’scommentarylowed to watch;• Faked a problemwith a food orderto, in fact, get morefood;• Traded a beer for adry pair of socks;• Explained to mywife, very logically,why she doesn’tneed to become aprostitute;• Watched “Survivor”and saw the peopleon the show eatbetter than I hadthat day;• Reconsidered mywife becoming ahooker;• Lost $5 and almostcried;• Found $5 andalmost cried;• Applied for foodstamps;• Listened to a bluesband and said tomyself, “Theseguys know whatI’m going through”;• Been rejected forfood stamps;• Eaten more spaghettithan I wouldwish on my worstenemy.• Realized friendsare all you have;• Added family tothe list of all I have;• Made the decisionthat money doesn’tmatter to me anymore.I don’t know if itwere because of howhungry or stressed Iwas, but one day I justbecame really OK withbeing poor. It onlytook 24 years, y’all,but I did it.Like that Jaredguy from Subwaysaid, “I’m no longertoo big for my‘poor-ass’ britches,“Life had given me lemons,and I melted cheese onthem.”and I’ve never feltbetter.”About two weeksago, I looked inmy cupboard andrealized my wife andI would be on an allricediet for the nextfew days.Two days into our“rice-a-thon,” I wasreminded by NationalPublic Radio how villagesin Africa couldsurvive on what I hadin my cupboard formonths at a time.Sadly, this mademe smile. It knockedLetter to the editorme off my self-pitystallion and forced meto look at my situationobjectively.I can’t stand howcliché the logic was,but I was guilty ofbeing shown thelight by people lessfortunate than myself.Worse yet, I hadmelted cheese intorice the night before,which is as bad as itsounds.Dominic BenintendeCo-A&E EditorLife had given melemons, and I meltedcheese on them.I realized somestudents are supposedto be poor, and I’mgood at it, so why notembrace it?College seems likethe easiest thing in theworld now becauseI know I’m choosingto attend. This wasan unprecedenteddevelopment withinmy life.Before I still haddelusions I was in itfor a career or enoughmoney never to eatSpam again.If I really didn’twant to be as poor asI am anymore, I couldjust quit college andreturn to my dismalconstruction job.However, I’d take theknowledge I’m gettingnow over temporaryphysical comforts anyday, especially whenI wasn’t happy theneither.I’m happier whenI’m learning.For my tradingthe Shakespeare I’vedigested for steakdinners is like payingmoney to seeNickelback: it’s notworth it. Actually, mylife without highereducation was quitesimilar to Nickelback’smusic: boring, repetitiveand full of whining.A man whom Irespect told me theother day, “You haveto keep one foot in theacademic community,and the other in thefilthy world that surroundsit.”Because I haveplaced myself in theacademic community,I have found myselfmore interested in thedifferences betweenthe “filthy world”and that which existsin the college atmosphere.For me, my life as acollege journalist andmy life as a poor manwere combating eachother. I wasn’t seeingthe point in school.Life belongs to theperson living it, andI was not taking fullresponsibility of myown.By accepting whatwe like about ourselvesor situationsand changing what wedon’t, we can drive ourown lives. The roadisn’t always pleasantor guaranteed to bethere tomorrow, butthat doesn’t makewhat we do along theway futile.College isn’t foreverybody—nor isusing coffee filters astoilet paper, but happinessis somethingthat can be appreciatedand pursued byeveryone.Nickelback said,“We all just wannabe big rock stars/andlive in hilltop houses,drivin’ 15 cars.”I couldn’t disagreemore.Feedback request yields diverse results, supportI do appreciate thatwe live in a communitythat supports thekind of conversationmy e-mail generated;after all, this is the“free world,” and ifyou cannot exerciseyour right to expressan opinion, then theterm “free world”becomes rather aninteresting paradox,indeed.Thereafter, if thepublic begins to feelthey are losing their“voice,” then their societycould well spiralinto the “Orwellian”societies of novels Iread in high school.“Big Brother” iswatching you.As I said previously,the e-mail I wrotecreated a somewhatdiverse reaction fromour community. Letme address those whoseemed concernedwith my use of sucha “broad form ofcommunication” toexpress my ideas onthe topic of discrimination.I realize thereare subjects that areconsidered taboo,and perhaps we livein a culture that is notcompletely comfortablewith this issue.However, beyondcertain walls, there isanother culture thatpervades in this country,one that is builtupon the sweat andtears of all the immigrantsand aboriginalgroups of yester year.I belong to oneof these groups;therefore, I did feela strong inclinationto communicate mythoughts on this rathercontroversial topicof discrimination andhate. To those whowere concerned withmy e-mail, pleaselisten carefully withan open mind and anopen heart.I was raised in avery multiculturalclimate. Vancouver,Canada, is not onlya place of naturalbeauty but is alsoa place made evenmore beautiful by thevarious cultures wholive there. This couldeasily describe a typicalday in my hometownof Vancouver.See Letter, Page 15
May 4, 2009lccc.wy.edu/wingspanopinion Wi n g s pa n 15‘This is your school, your voice, you must raise it’From Letter, Page 14On an early andhilly January mornng,I could enjoy aery long walk aroundhe seawall, whichncases one of theost beautiful parksn the province namedtanley Park. As I walkast roller-bladers, jogers,and bikers, I canake in one of my faoriteviews of the city,hich are the snowappedmountains onhe north shore.As I look toward thismage, I am remindedf the Winter Olympicsoon to be knockngon Canada’s Westoast door.From there, I canasily jaunt downtowno find a Starbucks onlmost every cornernd enjoy a mornngcup of joe withhatever tasty treathat catches my eye.erhaps that afteroon,I will meet ariend, and we canop a bus or catch thekytrain and head overo the historical districtCollege: Loved ones help with sanityFrom College, Page 13My parents gave me a placeto stay to get away and, like mostother parents, gave me somemuch needed confidence boostsat some low points. They alsowere there when I needed a littlespare cash (or sometimes a lot ofspare cash). As much as I deniedwhen I first moved to Cheyennethat I would come home and visitall the time, I always found littleexcuses to come home aboutevery other weekend. Needlessto say, a lot of items seemed to beleft behind and required at leasta few days and couple nights ofsleep in my comfy bed to find.My brother and his wifealways let me come over onweekends (that I didn’t venturehome) and do my laundry, stealsome snacks, vent about life’slittle dramas and play PlayStation3 until midnight. In other words,they provided my idea of a perfectweekend survival kit.of Gastown to enjoya two-for-one lunchat one of my favoriteIndian restaurants, orperhaps I would headto Richmond wheremy parents live andvisit what has becomeone of my favoritestores, Yaohan.There, we couldpick up a sushi roll orsticky rice, one of myhusband’s favorites,and then picnic atone of the local parksnearby. My husband’seyes lit up when wefirst walked throughthis store becausehe could find almostevery Asian condimentand vegetable on theplanet there.Mixed in with theproduce and freshlymade items are thewonderful smells ofa French patisseriereminiscent of my daysin Japan. I truly livedin the local bakeriesof Japan, and if I evergo to France, I wouldprobably buy one!After lunch, I mightlike to visit my almamater, Universityof British Columbia(UBC), to take aleisurely stroll throughthe Museum ofAnthropology, whichdisplays some of themost captivating artworkof the aboriginal(First Nations) peopleon Canada’s WestCoast.Finally, I wouldprobably end theday walking aroundhistorical Steveston inmy parents’ neighborhoodand watch thefishing boats nestlingquietly on the dockswhile devouring aplate of fish and chipswith a ginger beer atPajo’s, a local favorite.Mmmmmm…You may be wonderingwhat this travelcommentary is leadingtoward. This is theculture in which I wasraised, but it was notalways like this.When I think ofmy grandparentsor my parents andother relatives in theiryouth, I am remindedof a darker time inmy country’s history.Although my boyfriend is incompletely different categoryfrom parents and brother, hewas the last ingredient to what Iconsider my fairly successful yearat college. We had been datingabout a year when I came to college,and when I came to schoolin Cheyenne, we both decided itwas worth the drama, fighting andhigh phone bills to stay together.Luckily for both of us, we didn’tmind spending our nights in andtalking on the phone, even if itmeant his sitting silently listeningto me type my homework andencouraging me when I whinedI couldn’t do it anymore. I alsocannot deny he was a large reasonbehind my boring three-hourdrives and gas-guzzling car rideshome that kept me out of trouble.So while the nights in, tripsto Mom and Dad’s, weekends ofvideo games and high phone billskept me at the “nerd” status, Ihave them to thank for a fantasticfreshman year.When the Japanese-Canadians wereinterned and placedinto concentrationcamps, it was a turningpoint during a periodof unrest and fear.And, as a world, weall know that terriblethings happen duringwartime.However, my familyand relatives werecitizens of Canada, aswere the Japanese wholived in the UnitedStates. Despite this,they were forced torelocate and spendseveral years duringthe war in internmentcamps.In Canada, theywere forced to leavetheir homes, property,and almost everythingthey owned. Theycould take only whatthey could carry.Toward the endof the war, they weregiven an ultimatum.This ultimatum wasa government noticethat forced them tomake this decision:They could eitherreturn to Japan orrelocate east of theRocky Mountains.They could not returnto their homes on theWest Coast.For my parentsand other relativeswho were born andraised in Canada, itwould not have beeneasy to integrate intoa country they did notknow. For my familyand many others, theywanted to remain inCanada.When the warended, they relocatedto various cities andtowns east of theRockies. Eventually,after many years, theywere allowed to moveback to the West Coast.However, thegovernment neverreturned their homes,land, or possessions.The fishermen losttheir boats, and I couldremember an old blackand white newspaperphoto that has stayedin my memory of allthe fishing boats tiedtogether to be takenaway by the government.They lost everything.Why am I dredgingup something thathappened more than60 years ago? Normally,I would not discusssuch issues. After all,the past is the past.However, thishistorical milestonedoes link strongly tothe e-mail I sent. Ifyou recall, there weresome individuals whoreacted with concernto the content and deliveryof my message.My message wasmeant only to implythat if anyone experiencesbullying orharassment, then he orshe should report it tosomeone and also seekcounseling for it.The society we livein today should nottolerate any forms ofdiscrimination.This is why I spokeof my grandparentsand my parents. Noone should have to feelthat kind of degradationand humiliationon any level, be itnational or educational.In other words,I do understand whatit is like to be discriminatedagainst. In mycase, I never really feltdifferent. There wasonly the rare incidentwhen a kid would callme “chink” (whichis technically wrongbecause this refers tothe Chinese race).However, my parentsheard differently.They heard the ongoingchants of “Japs gohome.” They lived in amuch different time,and I could neverimagine what theymust have felt.In Japanese culture,there is an expressioncalled “shigataganai,”which translatesliterally into “it can’t behelped.” This is whatmy grandparents andparents chanted asthey quietly acceptedtheir circumstancesand never spoke outabout the injusticesthey experienced. Itwas a different timeand a different culture.On the contrary,my generation calledthe “sansei” (third generation)in Japanesereacted differently tothose injustices. Theyfought for what wascalled “redress” inCanada.After many years ofprotest, the Japanesewho lived during thewar were given a formalapology from thegovernment and somefinancial compensationfor what they hadlost. I do not think itcould ever measure upto the emotional andfinancial toll they ultimatelysuffered, but forme, as a sansei, it didprovide the statementthat this “must neverhappen again.”In conclusion, wemust look at ourselvesand wonder whetherwe hold similarprejudices and fears.If people do not learnto tolerate differences,then their societiesmay well spiral into aGeorge Orwell novel,where they will live andbreathe in a controlled,dystopian culture of the21st century.The history of mygrandparents and parentshappened morethan 60 years ago, butI can see similar fearsare running still rampantin some places.If you ever feel anyinjustice, you muststep up and speak outfor what you believeis right. At an educationalinstitution, thisapplies to students,instructors, administrators,and staff.For example, whentuition fees were beingraised at my almamater in Vancouver,Canada, thousandsof students marchedonto the universitypresident and chancellor’soffice in protest.Some students evenchained themselves tothe president’s office.This is your schooland your voice. Youmust raise it if youwant to be heard. Inthe words of the famoussong during theAmerican civil rightsmovement, “We shallovercome someday.”The Vancouver,Canada, of today isnot the same as it waswhen my parents weregrowing up. In Canada,the word “mosaic” isoften heard to describethe character ofCanada’s culture. I likethis word. In countrieswhere there is extremediversity, cultural andlinguistic differencesshould be celebrated.This applies toevery level of society,including schools. Itruly hope my studentswill have a peaceful experiencehere whetherthat student is aSenegalese basketballplayer, an exchangestudent from China, oran Iraqi refugee.This is the “freeworld,” and a placethey should be able tocall “home.”If my mothercould hear me speaknow, she might say tome, “Dear daughter,silence is golden.” I dounderstand because Iknow the culture shewas raised in.However, I trustdeep inside her heart,she is thinking, “Yougo, girl!”Brenda MorizakiEnglish as a SecondLanguage (ESL)InstructorLCCCFor moreletters to the editor, seeWingspan Online atlccc.wy.edu/wingspan.
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