People Who Go Places

One of my favorite lines from S.E. Hinton’s Tex, a beloved adolescent novel, goes, “There are people who go places and people who stay. . .” When I was young, working retail in my parent’s businesses, growing up in the less-than-utopia Eastside San Jose, being the minority enrolled in the few Honors’ classes offered in under-sourced and under-budgeted middle and high schools, I was desperate to be one of those people who go places. My husband recently asked me, “Do you often think about the future?” I responded, “Well, when you grew up like I did, you either obsessively planned a future for yourself, or you accepted that you didn’t have much of one.” So, I studied, got my coveted college degrees. I moved out. I got to see a little bit of the world through recent travels. I pushed at my spheres of comfort to get a glimpse of what lies beyond.

Recently, important people in my life are going places, too.

My instructor at Aikido of Silicon Valley, Michael O’Quin, is moving back to Louisiana after 15 years of teaching at the dojo to care for his elderly mother.


With O'Quin (left) and MacAllister (right) Sensei at the farewell dinner

I met him four years ago, when the days turned dark faster and I wandered the premises of a private high school, looking for the training room where the aikido students met. I had spoken to O’Quin Sensei on the phone to inquire about Aikido of Silicon Valley. I thought I’d be the one asking the questions: How long are classes? Where can I change? How much are the fees? But instead, he asked me, “What are you looking to get out of aikido?” That stopped me, rehearsed questions flying out of my head. I didn’t know. I practiced it in college for a few years. I had about five years of hiatus since then. I needed the exercise. But really, it felt like I was looking for something I lost. So, slightly lost I wandered, looking for the obscure dojo at King’s Academy High School on a rainy night. And it was O’Quin Sensei who found me, who led me the rest of the way and brought me home.

In Susan Shillinglaw’s California Literature class, where we read and discussed Steinbeck and C.Y. Lee, I met Kate Evans: tall, confident, happy blonde who always wears a smile.



With Kate at Vyne near SJSU

Some classmates you see for a full semester and then never again. Some classmates become lifelong friends with you, inseparable. And some you get to know a little in class, lose touch with for many years, and then find yourself immersed in the most important and memorable aspects of their life. When we crossed paths while walking to class one day, Kate asked me, “How do you picture your future? Do you want kids?” Loaded down by too many Norton Anthologies and graduate units, I responded, “I do, but really not thinking about that right now.”


The hall of Faculty Offices Building, home of English teachers' offices and where I once worked before the corporate world.



English Dept Awards list, winners posted. I'll never forget the feeling of looking with anticipation at this list when it got posted and finally seeing my name under some of the creative writing awards.

 After college, Kate stayed at SJSU to teach, and I moved on to join the corporate world. I saw her occasionally at campus readings, and then not at all. . . until I was engaged, and my husband and I decided to ask her to officiate our wedding. What followed were emails, dinners, and meet-ups to work on my ceremony script, getting to know each other’s spouses better, and sharing pre-matrimonial celebrations. Kate, always the over-achiever, actually got engaged shortly after me and snuck in her Hawaii-based wedding before my own. She came to my bridal shower to play games like “pin the flower on the wedding dress,” and I came to her limo-riding, wine-tasting bonanza, where we shared appetizers in good company and danced together in front of a live band as the stars came out.

Very soon, Kate will head off with her husband on a world tour. With their personal belongings given to others or stored away, they’ll be visiting places such as Australia, Hong Kong, India, and Sri Lanka, spending the upcoming year (and beyond!) as travelers. Kate is a strong believer of serendipity and how one positive, happy event often dominoes to create other positive, happy events. She performed a poetry reading at her cousin’s wedding and caught the bouquet. She and I got married, and she officiated my wedding. Recently, some friends of mine asked me to officiate theirs. For our last meet-up before she heads off, Kate passed along a black leather portfolio, the same one she used to contain my ceremony script, so that it could once again be put to use for another wedding. During our meet-up, she asked, “You two want kids?” And the future is now, and I confidently answered, “Yes, Kate. We do.”


Kate's office, on her last day of teaching. You will be missed.


After recovering from a cold and coming back to work at Telenav one day, I discovered that I had a new across-the-aisle cube neighbor, Karen Sudre. We stumbled past our computer chairs in our too-tight cubes to shake hands, and what resulted was almost six years of an amazing friendship. We designed department signs together and worked on localization/translation projects, both being kind of grammar/punctuation snobs. We laughed over punny sentences, rode horses, ice skated, scaled Planet Granite rocks, shot pool, played air hockey, bowled, barbecued hot dogs for donations, and walked the Making Strides fundraiser. Yes, our jobs at times can be extremely stressful, I know. Karen’s been there for me through those giant milestones in life, like buying a house and getting married. I watched her oldest son grow up and walk down the aisle as my handsome ring bearer. I got to know her daughter since she was born. We celebrated promotions and vented through those not-so-glorious moments. She makes work life humanizing, and sane. As our company expanded, we moved further from each other, putting more space between our cubes, and finally ending up on different floors of our office building, but still touching bases and enjoying each other’s company at occasional lunches and corporate gatherings. Next week, after a five-year tenure, Karen will move even further, leaving Telenav to start at Yahoo. May she excel in her new role at localization project management. . . and exercise the powers of self-control over the unlimited, free corporate breakfasts, lunches, and dinners.


With Karen, 5/10/13. One week left at Telenav!


I used to think that The People Who Stay are the ones getting left behind, the ones missing out on all the living they should be doing, such as in Dr. Seuss’s “Oh, the Places You’ll Go,” where the dreaded Waiting Place is mentioned. You just hope that

“Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

With banner flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.”

In reality, we are moving all the time, not on one determined trajectory but on unique pathways that are right for us. Once in a while, they criss-cross, and we reconnect with beloved companions who may travel in parallel with us for a time, or simply say farewell and move on. When you’ve done as much “going” as you need to do and are ready to settle down and “stay” for a while, you get to appreciate your current place, too. The familiarity of well-known surroundings, family, and friends. The calmness of a sunny afternoon spent in lazy leisure. The quiet place where you can just relax, break out your brainstorming cap, and plan for what lies ahead.

For The People Who Go Places, we Stayers wish you pleasant adventures. May you unearth new thrills in undiscovered places, and may happiness forever light your pathway as you forge ahead to find all the things you seek.