“Vision without execution is hallucination.” Thomas Edison
I hope my legacy to you won’t be the unfinished work of Point Forward, the title of the potential book on the basketball story of your grandpa, Chew Chong Chong. There is a draft of 13 chapters presently residing on my iPad program called Scrivener (mostly notes kickstarted from my NanoWrimo November writing month), photos from Grandpa’s McKinley High School yearbooks, pages from the St. Louis High School yearbooks documenting his coaching contributions, and scanned articles of his 8 or so basketball albums that resided with me for years (I understand from Aunty that there are more memorabilia in her storeroom, but I couldn’t handle more). My historical research on that era in Hawaii is also on Scrivener.
For years, this writing has been periodically retrieved for short periods of time, then put back on the shelf, collecting virtual dust. It is something I would like to forget exists except that after recognizing his achievements as noteworthy, I made a commitment upon retirement to write this narrative. A few years ago, I went to a writing presentation by author Shauna Niequist and in response to my comment on the fear that fractures you when you get to this point, she responded, “Write the book.” As simple as that and it probably is once you get past the fear of failure, of producing mediocre writing, of saying this one’s for you when this one is actually for me. So here goes the next innumerable attempt at writing Chew Chong Ching’s life contribution, one that should be known because his gift of athleticism redeemed his oppressive childhood and his future from Asian mediocrity to local renown, documenting the enveloping role sports played in the cultural history of Hawaii. Next research material needed to substantiate Grandpa’s kidnapping: Chinese Mafia in Hawaii in the 1940’s. Maybe finishing this book will be my life song.
I hope my legacy to you won’t be the unfinished work of Point Forward, the title of the potential book on the basketball story of your grandpa, Chew Chong Chong. There is a draft of 13 chapters presently residing on my iPad program called Scrivener (mostly notes kickstarted from my NanoWrimo November writing month), photos from Grandpa’s McKinley High School yearbooks, pages from the St. Louis High School yearbooks documenting his coaching contributions, and scanned articles of his 8 or so basketball albums that resided with me for years (I understand from Aunty that there are more memorabilia in her storeroom, but I couldn’t handle more). My historical research on that era in Hawaii is also on Scrivener.
For years, this writing has been periodically retrieved for short periods of time, then put back on the shelf, collecting virtual dust. It is something I would like to forget exists except that after recognizing his achievements as noteworthy, I made a commitment upon retirement to write this narrative. A few years ago, I went to a writing presentation by author Shauna Niequist and in response to my comment on the fear that fractures you when you get to this point, she responded, “Write the book.” As simple as that and it probably is once you get past the fear of failure, of producing mediocre writing, of saying this one’s for you when this one is actually for me. So here goes the next innumerable attempt at writing Chew Chong Ching’s life contribution, one that should be known because his gift of athleticism redeemed his oppressive childhood and his future from Asian mediocrity to local renown, documenting the enveloping role sports played in the cultural history of Hawaii. Next research material needed to substantiate Grandpa’s kidnapping: Chinese Mafia in Hawaii in the 1940’s. Maybe finishing this book will be my life song.