Every Person is a Story

I think that every person’s life is a story in itself. I created this site so that any person can write their own life story. When other people read other people’s life story we will come to respect each other and see how precious and unique each person is. We can realize that we are all part of the same family.

Before I met God at the age of 27 I remember I wondered about things such as, “If a truly good God exists why does he not make everything right when I saw all the suffering in this world of ours”. Or, ” Where is God”?

Now I know. God does not interfer with the day to day affairs of men and women. He would love to make everything alright, but that would make man inept. God is not here on earth because this is not God’s Kingdom of Heaven on earth, and while we work on that problem the forses of darkness work against us.

During lecture in my government and politics class I stumbled upon a question that has no answer, or for that matter a plight of “catch-22″. As the professor discussiones our forefathers’ idealolgy of human nature, that we are deprave, self-seeking, selfish, and untrustworthy  Thus there is a need for a democratic centeral government to organize these

I was born in a tiny island called Guam. My Dad who was an electrical engineer by profession was working for the US Naval Air Force and was stationed there as a powerplant controller of the naval runway. My Dad is Chinese-Hawaiian from Hilo, my Mom a Venezuelan-Korean.

My grandparents are settlers, which means they moved from different countries and eventually immigrated in Hawaii in the late 1800. My Dad was born in 1909, the youngest of 5 children and my Mom in 1951, only girl in her family. Their marriage was arranged to keep the bloodline. My Dad and my Mom’s father are first cousin. Mom’s parents are especially interesting as both of my greatgrandmothers Kyung Mo Eh (pronounced Lee and Julia Lamson) were religious reformers. One being a strong Protestant, and the other a Catholic. Much of my greatgrandparents influence was to raise either my Dad as a minister or my Mom as a nun.

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Am I good enough?

My first known name by which all introductions were made was… “Hello, my name is Lewis Caboose.”

I first knew myself as the end of the line, the last child born of my parents, a very lovingly wanted child prodigy some fourteen years younger than my next older sibling. Yes, a “child prodigy” because I was to be a natural study at being a farmer.

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I was born in Ottawa, Canada, in a French Canadian family. I was the fourth child. I was happy, that I had a younger brother, because I was not the baby of the family.
We always spoke French in our house, but their was so much English speaking around our communities that we had so speak English very early. I remember being in primary school, a French school and we were learning English in first grade.
My mom and dad used to speak in English as a secret language, in front of us, so we would not understand what they were saying. Of course, that soon ended when we started picking up some of the words in English.

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