A couple of months ago, I received virtual hugs from Julie, my schoolmate back in Middle School. I might have been taken aback had I gotten them from someone else, but surprisingly it felt nice to get those from her.In the '80s, she gave me this picture with the following dedication:
:) 10-17-88When she arrived in ISM, I hadn't been to the States yet and I thought she embodied what an American was: shiny, confident, and white. I remember she burst into the scene like a tornado, dating a succession of guys and leaving a trail of broken hearts in her wake. Ironically, she was extremely conscious of her looks and we became friends because I could articulate what I'm sure the other guys wanted to say: "You look beautiful!" We were also both fans of Menudo. She gave me a brown, plastic scapular and told me to have it blessed by a priest and wear it, which I did until the string broke- for me it was a sign of friendship, as much as a religious object.
TO VOLTAIRE,
You are one of the sweetest people in the world. I value our friendship a lot. Hope we remain friends for a long time. Please don't ever forget me.
Your friend alwayz, :)
Julie Nelson '91 :)
P.S. Sorry about the ugly picture! :)
Later on, I found out that Julie, who spoke with a warm, Southern drawl, wasn't purely Caucasian: Asian blood (Vietnamese? Filipino?) flowed through her veins.
If Barack Obama wins the elections in the US, young Filipinos today would have a better idea of the diverse races that have shaped that country- and hopefully a better image of what people of color like ours can accomplish anywhere.
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