Skip to main content

this much i know is true

best friends in atlantic city, early 1960's

fifty-three years ago these three were boys and became the very best of friends. little did they know back then that they would not only forge lifelong friendships, a brotherhood in the truest sense of the word, but that they would create a legacy along the way.

this is my father (far right) and his two oldest and closest friends. they have been inseperable since long before i can remember. they are my family, born not of blood but out of sharing years and years of life together and a kind of bond that is extremely precious and rare. they created something beyond themselves, a rich and joyful tapestry of past and present, memories and traditions, friendship and love, that continues to weave together the lives of everyone in thier wake... i feel incredibly blessed to be one of those people. so many times i have sat in a room filled with this tribe, and felt overwhelmed and awed with gratitude. i couldn't imagine my life without them having been a part of it.

this past week we had to say goodbye to one. though he was not well for some time, the loss of someone close always takes you by surprise and knocks the wind out of you. it makes you take stock, reminds you of what is most important, and offers you another day to get it right. i've learned so much from these men, about the meaning of family, about the virtue of loyalty, about the essence of living a life meant to be enjoyed and especially shared.

it unquestionably is the end of something significant and irreplaceable; a life, an era, a chapter of a story that though changed will continue to be told. i now know that long after these three have gone on, thier legacy will persist through everyone they've shined upon and encircled with the gift of thier friendship.


Popular posts from this blog

Inner Alchemy Cards: Build A New World Deck

Our next make-your-own card adventure is finally here! Inner Alchemy Collage: Build A New World Deck (online) is an artful exploration of language, learning, inspiration, and collaboration, that delves into important ideas around activism and systems of oppression. This is a way for us to examine and disrupt harmful dominant narratives, tell new stories, and inspire one another to use our creativity and personal power to help build the collective world we all want to live in! In the end you will have a beautiful and meaningful handmade deck of 35 oracle cards to use as unique a tool for guidance and reflection whenever you need it.  I'm your host,  Mindy Tsonas Choi , an artist, organizer, radical belonging activist, and the founder of the Be Seen Project - a grassroots initiative resourcing BIPOC artist and makers working in activism. Join me along with other stellar artists, makers and co-creators who have also been exploring social justice and activism as part of their creativ

The Cost of Selling Belonging

As someone who use to sell belonging and believed I was creating something universally magical , I now have fresh eyes on the harm that I once caused. I understand what can (and was) incredibly healing and impactful for some, was at the same time excluding, marginalizing and undervaluing others. First, to anyone who ever felt like they did not belong to anything I created because they were unable to afford it or felt like they did not have the social capitol to join -  I am sincerely sorry for not seeing you sooner .   To our entire creative community as a whole, I urge us all to think about belonging in new and equitable ways, and to do the work of dismantling these hierarchical structures that leave so many people out of the circle. We all deserve to have access to creativity and belonging, and I'd go so far as to say both are fundamental basic human needs and rights. Selling belonging can look like... Creating spaces and experiences that can only be accessed by buying in at one,

what's in a name?

It’s May 14, 2020 and I’m on a transnational call with a social worker and translator of the SOS Children’s Village offices in South Korea. It’s 7pm my time and 9am the next day in Korea, which adds to the surreal quality of the moment. It is my first long distance call following my inquiry with the organization documented to be my first place of entry into the system, found in my Korean records (the acquisition of which is an incredible story in and of itself). It was July 21, 1972 and I was 5 months old. It’s a small miracle the organization still exists, and an even bigger blessing that they took such time and care in searching for information and to talk it all through with me in person. I try not to cry as the call connects. What I learn is a lot of small details about that fateful evening which amount to nothing traceable, but still feel like huge missing pieces of my life. I was left near the entrance around 7pm under a small tree, wrapped in a blanket with only a name scribble