There are times when life plays tricks on you,
or better said, it tests your fortitude.
Times like now when I rode the wrong train.
Four hours 'til the right one's running again.
It's winter. It's cold. It's one a.m.
I don't want to have to wake my friend.
That thought is what keeps me from the call,
so I found this bench beside a toilet stall.

It's winter. It's cold. It's one-thirty a.m.
The sweeper tells me it's time to move--AGAIN.
They're closing the station, pulling down gates;
I go outside and ponder lodging rates.
Three thousand Yen doesn't give me much choice,
so I stand by the pay phones, try to keep my poise,
when really I'm shivering, my toes are cold,
and seeing two men fighting leaves me less bold.

I've never been somewhere unfamiliar
at two a.m.--what am I doing here?

It's winter. It's cold. It's two-thirty a.m.
I'm battling the breeze that's stirred by the rain.
My yawns release white steam and some heat;
some hot chocolate now would be such a treat,
or even more tissue for my running nose
could go a long way in easing my woes.
It's starting to dawn on me that perhaps
these are the thoughts of those in newspaper wraps.

It's winter. It's cold. It's three a.m.
How long will it take to feel my toes again?
But wait, look around, stop being so self-absorbed.
There are men, less fortunate, asleep on the floor.
I've never spent a night up with such fellows before;
what revelations this morning has in store
for someone like me who truly believes,
but in actions, still cannot readily give.

I've never been somewhere unfamiliar
at four a.m.--what am I doing here?

It's winter. It's cold. It's four-thirty a.m.
Soon I'll be back on my way home again.
I'm no longer scared of these men on the floor;
they've made me examine my faith all the more.
An invaluable lesson, I've learned today--
I never thought that I'd learn it this way.
God trains His children, those He calls His own,
and today I know that I have grown.

It's winter. It's cold. It's five a.m.
I'm finally on this long-awaited train!
Times like now when I'm back on the right track,
I'm grateful for His lessons, looking back.
He tests us no more than that we can bear,
He knows the exact numbers of our hair.
This confidence is what keeps a smile on my face,
no matter the crisis, no matter the place.

Today I've been somewhere unfamiliar
until five a.m., and I know why I was there.

Yokosuka set to welcome several ships home
Pacific Stars and Stripes, 11/19/2000

By Steve Liewer

YOKOSUKA NAVAL BASE, Japan -- Eight Yokosuka-based ships are due home early this week after participating in exercises in the Sea of Japan during the past two months.

Bands, food, music and hundreds of family members will greet the ships as they arrive at their piers.

Seven of the ships are due back Monday - the carrier USS Kitty Hawk; the cruisers USS Chancellorsville and USS Cowpens; the destroyers USS O'Brien, USS Cushing and USS John S. McCain; and the frigate USS Gary. The cruiser USS Vincennes will return Tuesday.

All of the ships except the O'Brien and the Gary joined in Foal Eagle, a joint annual drill with the South Korean armed forces held in late October. That exercise was held with little fanfare this year because of warming relations between North Korea and South Korea. North Korea has long objected to the exercise as unduly provocative, while the United States and South Korea have emphasized its search-and-rescue aspects.

All of the ships except the O'Brien and the Vincennes participated in AnnualEx, the largest joint exercise each year between the navies of the United States and Japan. This year, it included about 8,000 U.S. sailors and 30,000 Japanese sailors.

The O'Brien skipped both exercises but traveled to Dili, East Timor, late last month. Sailors there helped repair a school that had been burned during riots.

Seventh Fleet ships spent most of the summer in port after the Commander in Chief Pacific Fleet ran short of money for fuel during the last fiscal year. CINCPACFLT was flush with cash again after fiscal 2001 began Oct. 1, and most of the fleet went to sea during the busy fall exercise period.

Traditionally, the ships are home during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday seasons. Cmdr. Matt Brown, a 7th Fleet spokesman, was unable to provide information about ship's expected movements during December. But he did confirm that the 7th Fleet command ship USS Blue Ridge, which has been undergoing maintenance since September, will take its traditional preholiday cruise to Hong Kong early next month.

PhotoEx during AnnualEx 2000 showing the Kitty Hawk carrier battle group with several ships of the JMSDF (Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force).

U.S., Japanese navies start nine-day exercise
Pacific Stars & Stripes, 11/08/2000

By Steve Liewer

YOKOSUKA NAVAL BASE, Japan - More than 8,000 U.S. Navy sailors will join about 30,000 sailors from the Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force in a nine-day exercise beginning Wednesday. The yearly exercise is called "AnnualEx," and it will include six 7th Fleet ships assigned to Yokosuka: the carrier USS Kitty Hawk, the cruisers USS Chancellorsville and USS Cowpens, the destroyers USS John S. McCain and USS Cushing, the frigate USS Gary, and the Hawaii-based attack submarine USS Honolulu.

A maritime patrol squadron from Atsugi Naval Air Station and the Kitty Hawk's Carrrier Air Wing Five also will join in the exercise. Rear Adm. Robert Willard, Commander Task Force 70, will lead U.S. Navy forces participating in AnnualEx.

Eighty ships and 180 aircraft from Japan also will participate in the exercise.

According to a statement released by the 7th Fleet public affairs office, the exercise "is designed to improve both navies' capability for coordination and bilateral operations."

(Officer of the Deck (OOD) LTJG Misty Steinberger and Conning Officer
ENS Phoebe Choi caught on watch, staring out from the bridge/pilothouse
at... something. "Was it a B-1RD or a CGU-11?")

11/7/00

I walked through the scarlet temple gates
that led to Nowhere,
listened to the rhythmic beating of drums
that did not echo the beating of my heart,
and stirred, without drinking, waters from a fountain
that could not quench my thirst.
I saw people in garments that dazzled in finity
clap hands that sounded empty pleas
to deaf, long-lobed ears made of clay.
They dressed clay statues in gaudy, bright bibs
when they were the ones who were naked.
'Round here there's a temple by every train stop,
and people continue tying their written petitions
on lines of woven straw in which they are caught.
I wonder if they truly believe in the little figures
they lovingly groom and attend to each day,
and if they know where those scarlet gates
and the mesmerizing sound of the priests' drummings
are taking them.

10/16/00--
First Visit to Hong Kong

So here I am at long last--
finally made it to a computer.
Finally found some time to jot things down,
found a moment to piece it all together.

Friday the thirteenth,
my first day in Hong Kong,
the seas were rough and sent me flying
through the air, and I landed with my face along
the brittle non-skid that was laid
on the deck of the small boat I rode.
Shouts and bodies surrounded me as I lied still
with my eyes shut, trying to compose myself
while I slowly performed a self-check for broken bones.
There was nothing but a bruising pain along
the right length of my body, so I opened my eyes in relief.
I was okay.
I was fully conscious, and I tried to assure everyone
I was okay,
but I perceived from the look on everyone's face
that I must have looked worse than I felt.
A shipmate took the shirt off his back
and offered it as a rag to stop the bleeding from my face.
Witnessing that one heroic act made me feel
fortunate for the experience.

The first building I visited in Hong Kong,
upon arrival at the pier,
was the Hong Kong Adventist Hospital in Wan Chai.
There was no long waiting line, no language barriers.
I received prompt attention, even from the others--
patients and visitors--who showered me with inquiring looks,
curious to know if it was the rogue husband or boyfriend
whose masterpiece I sported.

At first, I enjoyed the attention and found it amusing.
I returned from the hospital with six stiches over my right brow,
but that did not sway my determination to enjoy
my first night in Hong Kong.
So I lifted up my bandaged chin, got dressed,
and proceeded from Fenwick Pier to Exchange Square,
to the American Club on the 48th floor,
to a cab via the UG level of the IFC building,
to the Bull and Bear at the Bank of America Tower,
to The Big Apple and Neptune in Wan Chai,
where I bore holes in my stockings and
bruised the balls of my feet.
In the wee hours of the morning I returned to my room
via a psychotic taxi cab driver and another rough boat ride.
During the ten minute ride back to the pier,
the cab driver belligerently shouted at my colleagues,
"You come to Hong Kong to fight us Chinese???!!!"
As we mumbled alarmed denials, the driver proceeded
to chuckle out loud before he changed his countenance
and tested us with his question again.
It was one crazy ride.

The next day, I awoke in pain,
partly due to the boat accident
and partly due to the night out in Wan Chai.
I forgot that I'm not eighteen anymore.
I spent the day in quiet rest, glad to be spared
the querying looks of strangers that followed me
wherever I went.
By the third day, I felt well enough to brave
the crowded alleys of Stanley Market.
Took bus no. 6 for HK $7.60 by the Star Ferry,
and we were at Stanley in less than half an hour.
It reminded me of the streets of Korea's shopping meccas,
Itaewon and Dongdaemun.
After buying a jacket for dad for HK $190 (HK $7.7 = US $1),
it was time to meet up with the group again.
We displayed the treasures and bargains we found,
and took the bus back to the Star Ferry in Wan Chai.
For a few cents, we took a ferry from Hong Kong Island
to Kowloon on the mainland. The skyscrapers that lined
the waterfront were a breathtaking sight to see.
We debarked by the Ocean Terminal, a huge shopping plaza
where expensive items were sold, including a fountain pen
for two thousand American dollars.
We took the subway one stop north to Jordan
for a few hours of window shopping
before we returned to Wan Chai.
After dinner at a reasonable Chinese restaurant,
we jumped in a cab and went to Lang Kwai Fong,
an area that reminded me again of Korea,
this time of Apkujongdong.
Mad Dog's has a "2 for 1" deal every day of the week
in addition to a d.j. who plays rare songs from the past.
High on a non-alcoholic fruit drink and on the great oldies' music,
my friends and I clinked our glasses together,
in celebration of our good fortune and freedom.

Perhaps in ten years we'll meet again in Hong Kong,
at the same, cozy brick-wall bar in Lang Kwai Fong,
have several "2 for 1" drinks, and tear up a dance floor
where one doesn't exist, right next to the d.j.'s console
at a place called "Mad Dog's."
And I'll run my finger over the scar over my right brow,
and remember the things I saw and felt during my
first visit to Hong Kong.

At a Thai restaurant in Hong Kong. It was mmm, mmm good!
(Notice my scratched up chin?) _{(L-R: Misty, me, Luke, Calabaza)}

09/07/00--
Half a century ago, they were but
sitting ducks.
They risked their lives,
for they refused to compromise
that which they knew was precious.
And I am as one of them.

They knew what they were fighting for
and so they endured all the more;
they bombarded their target with heart and soul--
their fire rained down on Wolmi-do.
Many were lost, but some remained.
And I am as one of them.

There is a battle that yet rages on,
and each day to the dueling fields I am drawn.
I know that I may well be a sitting duck,
yet I stay my urge to flee while others run amok,
for I cannot turn from sharing this precious liberty,
or shy from the call to set all men free.

I am as one of them.
I know what I am fighting for
and I would gladly lay down my life and more
if by that I could set one island free.
How I wish I could help set one island free.
But the island remains strong in its defenses.

August 2000

So there you are, embracing your gin and tonic
Your need for a nightly drink is chronic
You nurse your drink the way that you'd like to be nursed
Back to the way you used to be, free from your accursed
Laden conscience that speaks to you of days gone by
Of happy, golden days that become overclouded by one lie
That led to the birth of others, soon out of your control
They took root within you, grabbed you, grew, and took their toll
Spiraling high around and around the truth once there
Strangling, smothering, leaving your conscience worse for the wear

I know you are tired and lonely
Behind your wary glare, there's something more I see
I've seen your hardened heart soften towards me
As my heart communed with yours by the turbulent sea
And I've wondered if I had said too much, if I'd been a fool
If in pressing a subject distasteful to you, I'd been too cruel
But now you write me, your letters wistful and warm
And I know I want to be there when you reach out your arm
I know now that you read my heart, and that you know
A friendship like ours, once planted, can only grow

So don't you worry about the things you told me
Over your half-empty glass that one night
When that day comes, I will rush to your side
And you will not be alone in the dimming light
But there is a place that I cannot be with you
And still, you insist on going there
So thinking of you, I raggedly breathe out a prayer--
My friend, why don't you hand Him the burdens you bear?

No, I must have been
listening to someone else,
for how could such words come
from one such as you,
whom I had thought possessed
feelings cool to the touch.
So quiet and cool were you, lingering
in the back with the shadows.

No, you couldn't have been
seeing me all those times
that I frolicked and flitted
in clueless abandon, full of youth-
ful glee that swept me along
fields of ripened, nameless faces.
So restless and awkward was I, fidgeting
with my place in the sun.

No, I'm still not sure
that I see the things you seem
yet to see in me despite the years,
and I find your point of view
startling, revealing, strange, and enticing,
leaving my curious nature with a puzzle.
So sure are you and so fretful am I, hovering
over this border where two pieces match, eye to eye.

But what if there is something,
a pattern and path different I see,
from yesterdays' foregone harvests
that bend over heavy 'neath a yield of regrets,
from yestereves' harsh and solitudinal frosts
that each year collect of Spring her debts?
Then I can't continue alone on this road, ignoring
my thirst for the deep, cool waters of the
well that is you.

07/04/00--

Perhaps it's best for you to think me cruel,
but if you are to think such ill of me,
please know that I fought myself in duel
to keep myself from things that could not be.

If my life was mine to do as I please,
I'd pack up my bags and run to your door,
lay my heart bare and show you its disease
springs from restraining longing at its core.

But I am as Joseph who had no choice
but to take the clothes off his back and flee
in obedience to the inside voice--
it was Conscience that guided him and me.

I came so close to surrendering the secret
of the locks that firmly hold me in place,
but Sampson's story I did not forget
and remembering kept me in God's grace.

Perhaps it's best for you to think me cruel,
for if you only knew how wrong you are,
you may attempt siege on my Lordship's rule
and steal me away to a place so far,

so far from my first love.

And perhaps I'd follow you without a fight,
giving up the things eternal, above,
but with tears in my eyes blinding my sight,
bidding adieu to history's greatest love.

He completes me, so you see, far from Him
I'd surely lose my joy, my hope, my grit.
You may fill up my soul to the brim,
But how would you care for my spirit?

I don't have the strength to return under
and then to call out again for rescue,
so won't you cast your weights asunder
and rise to the surface, where I'm waiting for you?

Or perhaps it's best for you to think me cruel...

06/28/00--

It's funny how we're left of the middle,
so often in our lives when that course,
that white-painted line down the middle
seems the obvious way to traverse.

In another world, in another time,
I embraced being on the right side.
It isn't hard to do when all agree.
But not everyone drives on the same road.
Now in this foreign place far from home,
I find I'm driving left of the middle.
No one finds it strange, no one opposes--
it's an absurdity no one supposes.
Despite its strangeness, I took to it well;
If I'm better off, only time will tell.
Left of the middle, I'm always ahead;
A full day separates me from the voice
of the crashing waves on Ocean Drive,
and that of dear friends in who I did confide.
I miss the gentle rain that fell softly
on green meadows and leaky, tin roofs,
and the sound of that dear voice on the phone.

But now I've got a license to be left,
left to see my life is at God's mercy,
and so I look ahead and keep driving
left of the middle until this time's end.

06/24/00--

Today is Rowena's twenty-third birthday.
Despite the years, I can never forget
how she opened up the gates of laughter,
how to her I am gratefully in debt.

"Bugar Nena," I fondly dubbed her
during that fun-filled, childish phase of life;
I forget now what we had in common,
it was one of those things hard to describe.

In high school, we somehow grew apart,
she chose one path and I another.
Now she's somewhere out in California;
I wonder how she's doing--I miss her.

Dear friend of my youth, happy birthday.
It's been many years since the seventh grade,
but I wonder if you remember me
as I do you for all the memories made.

Take care of you.

06/14/00--
Though the boat was taken from underneath,
And a journey was made across the seas,
Meaning remains in certain memories
that cannot be told by words such as these.

05/08/00--
I thought you'd be the one, friend,
who'd walk by my side to the end.
I thought you were the one, friend,
on whom I could depend.

You say you love me, that you're my friend,
but still you begrudge me, you're reluctant to lend,
your time and your ear
from hearing what is to me most dear.

I know that I love you, friend,
because I suffer from this awful trend
of caring what happens to you in the end
even if I have to risk losing you as my friend.

I don't want to lose you, my beloved friend,
but there are crucial issues which, unless you attend
to, stand as a barrier between me and you,
and I want so much to overcome this... don't you?

Then before I go, please give me this gift, my friend--
give me your time and accept the invitation I extend,
give our friendship a chance to move beyond the "just pretend,"
and then our friendship time will never rend.

This is all I ask of you, my friend,
because I want us to walk by each other's side to the end,
because I want us to be the kind of friends
who on each other can always depend
for better or for worse.

But it's going to take some courage, friend,
and a dogged commitment to finish to the end,
for what can be for better or for worse between us
than this?

05/02/00--
I came back from Deutschland
back to my island home
to find gifts left by the hand
of friendship.
An unopened tub of ice cream
sat hibernating in the cold silence
of my once empty freezer,
wondering what took me so
long to come home to it,
while two plastic margarine containers
filled with bright orange jello
Jiggled with joy in the fridge
and sang a jubilant
welcome home.
A bowl of ice cream and
many mouthfuls of jello later,
with one last spoonful of orange
jiggly joy left to devour,
I warmed at the thought of my friend
who awaited my homecoming like
the ice cream in the silent freezer,
who welcomed me joyfully like
the jubilant jello in the fridge.
The jello, especially, touched me
because by it I knew
my friend's heart.

I took my fill of my friend's gifts
and my friend was filled with delight
at my enjoyment of the welcome home.
Such is friendship, I think.
When a good friend goes away,
a part of us sits on a cold shelf
waiting for that friend to return
to enjoy that portion of us...
Some friends return quickly
for a wonderful welcoming home
while others leave us wondering
if they will ever return home,
and if it is time to throw out
the dried out gifts,
wasting away,
on quiet, cold shelves in our hearts.

04/19/00--

Happiness is running out in the pouring rain at night,
a few minutes before closing time.
Happiness is running out in the pouring rain
at night.
Happiness is running out
in the pouring rain
at night.
Happiness is running out,
letting in the pouring rain,
and it is a few minutes before
closing time.

04/18/00--

Happiness is running out
in the pouring rain at night.
a few minutes before
closing time.
hopping on my white steed and
galloping at full speed
to the ice cream--
(you scream, we all scream!)--store
packed with goodies galore
just around the corner.

Five minutes before
closing time,
with nowhere to leave my steed
except across the street,
indubitably
ill-legally, in
a handy, handi--
cap parking space.
I leave the emergency
lights flickering wildly
on and off,
like the resolve
in my heart,
retreating at thougts
of being slapped
with a ticket,
then
surging boldly forth
again at the promise
of the end reward.

The door gapes open
in welcome,
despite the rain.
Gasping
with excited anticipation,
and from the short dash
across the street,
I run in, relieved
to still find a line
slowly slithering
its way in and out
of the land flowing
with milk and ice cream.

Minutes later, I'm
out the door, clutching
and savoring my
sweet prize in one hand,
a black umbrella
in the other.
My trusty white steed
is still
across the street,
blinking its lights,
neighing in nervousness,
but I am happy
with my prize,
and I do not spy
a foul ticket
shoved between my
window and wipers,
so I enjoy my taste
of bold victory.

I turn off the flashing lights,
soothing my steed by sharing
this special enjoyment
of this once-a-year moment
in the dry silence
together.
Outside the rain continues
to dampen coats and spirits,
but inside the safe haven
of my car, I am happy
devouring a free scoop
of Chunky Monkey
from Ben and Jerry's.

02/18/00-
I just finished shoveling snow for the first time in my life. I had no choice. My non-SUV Jetta (w/c I've named "Micah" btw) just couldn't get over all the snow that fell today, so I had to shovel and drive, shovel and drive, etc. before I could finally get over the snow and park on the streetside. I can only say, with the sincerest of conviction... IT SUCKED. There was about 1.5-2 feet of snow, and it was the wet kind of snow to boot--it got in my gloves and stuck to all my clothing, leaving me soggy after an hour of shoveling. And boy, does my back ache right now. I hate to imagine how sore my arms will be when I wake up tomorrow morning. Doh! Anyways, to keep myself from feeling sorry for myself, I added some fun to the shoveling job by making a snowman at the same time. It's just a dinky little one, about three feet high or so, but it just made me feel so good to do something kiddie-ish for the first time in a long time. The last time I made a snowman was back in 1990, when I went to Korea for winter break. Wow, that was TEN years ago! I even got down on the snow and made an angel when I went over to my friend Claudine's house today. That was after Claudine, her roommate, and I had a bit of fun pelting each other with snowballs in her driveway. It feels good to have had a "be-a-kid-again" day like today. I'm gonna take a picture w/ my snowman tomorrow morning to commemorate this novel winter's day. Oh, and as I was driving to Claudine's this afternoon, I drove by the oceanside and the waters were majestically churning and foaming. It was quite a sight, but now that's another story...

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