New hair, new muscles, new me.
The year that I really started to become a good kind of “Crazy Johnny”. I was growing into my own personality. Had a new haircut and started lifting weights. Muscles and confidence were coming in fast. I was just growing as a person and in every way possible.
Freedom without our mother.
My mother interviews for dental school.
After graduating from Cal State LA, my mother applied to USC’s school of dentistry. This school was full of prestige and notoriety in every way. Highly known for its academics and incredible sports programs (producing many famous athletes in football and basketball), its dental school was the first in California state.
They actually accepted my mother’s application. Her grades were good enough, and they loved her immigrant story that she had written down. She was so excited. Her moment had finally come to finish the final leg of her childhood dream, and adulthood escape. Freedom was almost hers.
On the day when she arrived for her interview, they said, “Hello Hanh, we are sorry but there are no interviewers today. So you’ll be interviewing with the dean of the dental school.” (A dean is basically the head of the entire program.)
A tall giant sized white man introduced himself as he walked her into his office. He offered out his hand and said, “Hello. I’m Dr. Paul. How are you?”
My mother froze like a deer in the headlights. Her entire life up to this point flashed before her eyes. She thought of her childhood dream of being a dentist, her family’s escape from Vietnam, going to school in Italy, marrying and moving to the US with my father, being treated and reminded everyday of his family what a piece of a of crap she was, all the hell she went through to get her bachelors degree while raising 3 kids and despite against everyone’s doubts, and now finally arriving here at this moment she had been waiting for for so long.
She choked in the moment. Under all this pressure and expectation for herself, she had forgotten all of her limited English.
She wasn’t able to say anything. After 10-15 minutes of awkward silence, Dr. Paul said “Hmmm….well, thank you for coming Ms. Hanh. You’ll receive an answer in the mail.”
She cried in the car. Feeling like a helpless failure. 2 weeks later, a letter came in the mail saying her application had been rejected.
It seemed her fairy tale run of being a super mom in dentist school had finally come to an end. Despite all that she tried, it just wasn’t meant to be. In what would have been a story of inevitable success despite all odds…it went exactly as it should…a story of inevitable failure.
Pharmacy school…the classic backup plan for dental school rejects.
My mother immediately did what all dental school rejects did, they apply to pharmacy school. It’s still a PHD, it’s still a respectable high-paying job. Just not as high and prestigious as dentists.
She applied and got immediately accepted into the University of Pittsburgh, in the state of Pennsylvania. It’s exactly the opposite side of the US away from California, in the northeast whereas California was in the southwest.
This meant she had to move away from home:
- We wouldn’t have a mother for the next 2 years.
- My dad was free to be with Mai as often as he wanted. Bringing her to the house even.
- Mai sometimes even cooking and babysitting us (not that we even needed it). I think my father just wanted to help her get along with us. But we actually already liked her. Maybe Harry was the one who hated her since he sided with my mother much more.
- We would only see her in the summer or winter holidays when school was out. The rest of the year, she lived in Pittsburgh.
We basically had no parents.
Not having a mother at home pretty much meant not having any parents. As we all know my dad was always out of the house doing whatever he wanted. And so did we. We could be out all day and coming home in the evenings and my dad would have no idea. We could bring all sorts of friends over, or play video games until late into the night. We were free to do whatever we wanted. I still think my parents were so lucky we didn’t turn to gangs or drugs like many kids in our neighborhood did when without adult supervision.
My 2 younger brothers maintained really good grades, almost straight A’s. And I maintained a B and C report card and didn’t come home in handcuffs. Which was fine for my parents.
The worst thing about not having a mother was our home meals were so terrible. My father was an awful cook. Everything he made was truly disgusting and he would demand us to eat it. We ate it like slaves being forced to eat prison food. When he didn’t have the proper ingredients, he didn’t care. He’d shove it all together and make it us eat it anyway. Mai’s cooking was better than our dad’s, but nowhere near as good as our mother’s. Our relief only came on nights my father was too busy/lazy to prepare food and would just give us money to go buy McDonald’s or pizza.
The most evil parent.
Perhaps from reading this story, you might have thought my dad to be the evil one and my mother to be the sweet one. But actually, both were horrible to me. And as time passed, I started to feel my mother was perhaps even worse than my father. I guess she was the one so unhappy in life, being beat down constantly by my father. Perhaps feeling isolated from her family. It seemed I became the scapegoat for my mother’s unhappiness and perhaps even the family’s unhappiness.
My father called my crazy. But my mother called me evil.
Together, they rallied these reminders back at me like two tennis players on the court. In any moment that I might have found some freedom and enjoyment in my own self. They were always there to remind that I was nothing other than an evil crazy boy. On paper…I fit exactly what they called me. A bad dishonorable oldest child Asian son, with terrible grades and a criminal record. Who went to school and became friends with lowly Mexicans. A terrible son, a terrible old brother, a terrible role model all around.
In a strange twist, despite my father’s dissatisfaction and disappointment in me…he still referred to me as the smartest son. And at least saw utility in my computer skills. I could fix many computer things and help him buy/sell camera items and other gadgets on eBay.
My mother, though…I felt didn’t want to see any good qualities in me. She knew they were there but still loved calling me evil and refer to me as evil. Due to this…I couldn’t bond with her more during her struggles with college. I wasn’t there to cheer her success. And I wasn’t there to support her through her failure. I helped her do her homework whenever she needed proofreading. But I was glad when she had to go away for school elsewhere. Without her or my dad at home, I had room to be who I was…unique, crazy, and perfect just the way I was.
Conflicts with my father had died down as well.
I was getting too big and too strong for him to handle, both in body and mind. He was tired of arguing with someone who could argue (and fight) back. He gave up on me. But he still tried to be strict on my brothers. But even that wasn’t necessary. Because they were already getting good grades and behaving well at home and in school. Brian even verbalized dreams of going to medical school. And I wasn’t coming home in handcuffs. All was perfect.
If anything, my dad didn’t fear losing his control over me. He feared losing his control over my brothers. And as long as he still had this, he still had power as a father. He still got to keep his good father image. And still proud to have a straight A sons (Brian & Harry) and a talented son in computers and chess (Johnny).
His new parent fantasy for us was:
- Johnny – rebel child but really smart and talented. Perhaps could be a computer genius and make tons of money as a programmer.
- Brian – studious straight-A student with discipline. Will became a doctor and give the family the perfect image.
- Harry – good grades, smooth talker, good looks, and very sharp business mind and loves money. Will be a good businessman.
And my mom was out there earning her degree, which would benefit him later in higher social status (being married to a doctor wife) and more money. AND she wasn’t home, so he could be with other women in her absence.
- My dad really had nothing to complain about. While life didn’t go quite the way he wanted, it was as perfect as can be.
What about Bach?
My father had visited him a few years ago in Mexico. He came back with pictures of him, and reported that he was growing to be very big. Already bigger than me. That he was a nice boy who loved to play soccer. And that the family was in a pretty poor area of Mexico.
Self-taught computer skills
I was becoming an expert computer technician and IT guy.
Years of messing with computers (since I was 7) made me the neighborhood computer expert. Everybody was asking me to fix their computers. All my friends, and friend’s parents. And I would fix it all for free. Some people offered to buy me food (like a burrito). Others tipped me $10-20. I was happy to receive any money. I had no idea, I was saving them hundreds in computer repair costs.
I had learned about all the parts necessary to build a computer and my dad trusted me to build our next family computer from scratch. I told him what parts to order and buy for me and I put it together. I was nervous…wondering, “What if I was wrong?” It didn’t power on despite me following the instructions perfectly. I felt like I had failed but my dad read over the instructions and noticed I missed a wire or something.
Then we pressed the button and it magically worked! My very first computer was a success. It beeped and booped and turned on! Something made with my bare hands. I really believed I could do anything!
Developing as a writer
Numerous writing classes gave growth my expression in written form.
Via English, literature, and script-writing classes (popular in Los Angeles due to the movie industry)…I was growing as a writer. Developing characters and writing them out in first, second, and third person. I learned to like writing and the most helpful skill of all was that I was a massively fast typer (thanks to my many years around the computer).
Being able to type fast and having a lot to say allows you to turn out tons of material quickly. Having read many books also gave me many examples of different styles of writing. Although I liked writing stories and movie scripts, my favorite was actually technical material.
I liked writing how-to guides. And so I started…making how-to guides for video games and even skateboarding tips. Some of them were just written in a book. Others were posted online to help others in the world.
This skill would later pave the way for many other things in my life. Stay tuned. 🙂
- Marvel vs CapCom – video game guide
Sports growth
My body and competitive spirit was growing
Armed with a newfound sense of confidence and zest for challenges…I went on to try many different sports. I was becoming the perfect outdoor guy willing to do anything and everything. But made my biggest accomplishments in basketball, chess, and skateboarding.
I also forgot to mention that by age 13, I had a six-pack starting to come in but I didn’t know what it was or that I officially had a six-pack. But by age 15, it was MOST DEFINITELY a six pack and my friends even validated it saying…“Holy crap, Johnny is ripped!” For a young boy, things like that give you mountains of confidence. Many people didn’t understand me. Although I might’ve look “cool” on the outside, I was still the shy nerd on the inside. I had never been validated by anyone.
But my body didn’t care. As I started lifting weights and training in sports, my body kept getting stronger and stronger. By body was becoming massively athletic and ready to perform regardless of my shy demeanor.
Making the winning shot in our basketball league championship.
In the summer, I joined a basketball league along with my brothers. We were part of the Elysian Heights basketball team (we wore white and blue jerseys). And we played against 5 other teams in the league. One of them being the infamous YMCA Boys Club…a rough-housing group of street kids who wore black jerseys.
It was exactly like a movie. The evil “black jersey” team was bigger and rougher, played dirty and fouled often. And they got away with it because their home court was the gym used for most games. They had all the best players…the biggest and tallest ones, fastest ones, and best shooters. They also had the best coach. All other teams were full of mostly smaller, nicer, seemingly less skilled and less competitive players. And with more colorful friendly-looking jerseys.
But my team had me. 🙂
I was a ruthlessly competitive athlete who never quit despite unsurmountable odds. I yelled at our team during games and when all our players had given up or lost hope, it was me that carried the team on my back and willed us to victory. In moments when it seemed that I was playing alone…and the parents of all other kids cheered me on. The other kids too felt compelled to help me out. One by one, they too gained confidence behind my charge and started running faster, defending harder, and shooting more confidently.
When the the league championship finals had arrived. It was none other than us, the underdog Elysian Heights Team #3 (white/blue jersey) vs the favorite Echo Park YMCA Boys (black jersey). In what was supposed to be a slaughter victory for YMCA…turned out to be anything but. The massive crowd that showed up at the YMCA gym that came to see a wipeout, and the Elysian Heights parents that came to show “moral support”…were treated to the surprise of their lives. Just before the game started, I yelled at our team asking, “Who’s going to win?!” And I asked them again and again until they said, “WE ARE!!!” loudly and proudly.
Me, my childhood friend Zuriel (the kid who lived across the alley where I first ran away from home), and our small sharpshooter Eddie…absolutely terrorized the YMCA boys. They had 8 strong players and us only 3, but we never let them rest. I out-ran, out-jumped, and out-muscled them on their home court. Them fouling me and the ref never giving us the calls didn’t matter.
We managed to keep the game close until the final seconds. With 20 seconds to go and the game tied, I had the ball at near the free line and looked to our sharpshooter Eddie. They had him completely covered and also blocked the painted area near the basket so that I could run straight in for an easy shot. I wasn’t the team’s best shooter but I took the shot.
And the shot went in. Giving us the lead of 2 points. Our entire crowd emptied the benches and ran over to tackle me like I had won the World Cup or something. (Funny note, some people accidentally tackled Zuriel as well since he was Asian and had a similar haircut to mine. But he had to repoint them, yelling “I’m not Johnny! Johnny’s over there!”
Now it was YMCA’s ball. With 20 seconds to go, they ran down the court and took a three but missed and the time went out. We started celebrating but the ref invented a “foul” somewhere. And gave them the ball to take out again. With 7 seconds this time. They had the ball and shot a 3 again and missed again.
We were the champions. We all celebrated like it was the game of the universe. Parents hugging each other, some perhaps even crying they couldn’t believe their underdog kid could beat the scary favorites. The YMCA boys were in disbelief. At having lost to a team they should have beaten. Turns out this YMCA boys team had been undefeated for years. Also turns out, many top players from other teams had left their team to join this super-team to guarantee an easy victory.
That night, when I went out to go skateboarding, news had gotten all over the neighborhood. Everybody cheered, “JOHNNYYYY!!!! CHAMPION!!!!!” and celebrated my victory like it was their own. The only skater friend who didn’t celebrate equally was our own friend Jeffrey (a Guatemalan kid) who was playing on the YMCA team.
Chess champion
I say “champion” but I was never better than 5th place. One day I was hanging around some friends in chemistry class during lunch (instead of on the courtyards) and saw our school had a mini chess tournament to try and encourage kids to play chess and join the chess team. I thought it looked fun and I’ve played before, but I wasn’t a classically-trained tournament player. I never trained with a team, did thinking drills and puzzles, or read books on chess theory (openings & endgames) and what not.
But still I tried. And I actually beat some of the players already on the team. My favorite win was the one against Martin. A tall really handsome Latin (Mexican) pretty boy, who looks like he belongs on an album cover or telenovela. He loves the ladies and boy do they love him, too. Although I considered him my friend, he was also really annoying and kind of a bully at times.
When Martin and I faced up against each other, he kept talking trash the whole time. Oooohing and aaaahing, laughing and calling out my mistakes as he took advantage. Pretending like he was some grandmaster and I was a lowly student. Well he was in fact winning, but he didn’t see my sneaky trick coming. Despite having taken many of my pieces, he didn’t see my one final trick. He ran his rook down to check me, and I moved up my king into an adjacent diagonal forcing him to back off the rook. Once he moved his rook away, I ran my rook down onto the last rank on his side putting his unprotected king in checkmate.
Martin screamed in agony, having lost to somebody he thought was lesser than him. The whole chess team came over and including the chess coach (my chemistry teacher, Mr. McFadden) to see what happened. They all laughed incredulously that Martin, one of the team’s better players had lost to some random kid who never played with the team before. I was invited to be on the chess team and I accepted.
At my first chess tournament, I once again played the underdog role against the favorites. It was at Monroe high school where many kids from different high schools showed up to compete. As they lined up to register with their coaches, you could see kids sizing each other up judging and getting nervous accordingly.
The kids that looked most nerdy, or carried their own fancy chess clocks and chess books, and had very smart looking coaches were considered the most scary. Usually when the boards were announced, you would pray not to get one of those super smart looking kids. Other schools had as many as 10-100 players entered in this tournament. Our school had only 4 players and all of us except Hugo (our leader) dressed like gangsters, the other kids kind of laughed at us.
- Johnny (new kid but strong potential, dressed like a skater)
- Moises (smart Mexican player, dressed like a gangster)
- Hector (Filipino guy with glasses, crafty thinker, dressed like a gangster)
- Hugo (nerdy fat guy with glasses, trained player, highest rated, our leader)
Despite making many newbie mistakes, I took home the 5th place trophy that day. And my parents were blown away. It was a huge trophy and (I lament) still my biggest trophy to this day. My dad took photos and felt so proud that he now had something to brag about me.
I have more funny stories like the time we entered a tournament in a very fancy neighborhood where many rich kids and rich schools were. When we were waiting outside in line to register, I heard another kid scream “OH NOOO! IT’S THE TRIPLE A! IT’S THE TRIPLE A TEAM!!” I turned over to see probably the funniest thing I had ever seen in my life.
It was a whole coach bus that pulled up, and out walked a team of 30 kids in fancy red tracksuits. Behind them were their coaches (who carried their gear, clocks, books) like golf caddies. Hahaha…they walked in like a team of Olympic athletes, but like super nerds. Other players screaming in fear “Ohhh noooo…that’s Mason Jorgenson, he’s rated 1700!” I didn’t care. If there was a challenge to be had, I’d love to face it. I didn’t care how nerdy they were or that their players could afford more than one chess coach per player and our poor school team only had 1 coach for 4 players. Also that our coach’s rating was even lower than most of the players in this tournament. (Funny story, our coach once lost to a 6-year old during the break period of a tournament and our school team was so embarrassed. Hahaha…Hugo said he wanted to jump out the window.)
In my final game of this tournament, I was faced-up against the leader of the AAA. None of the spectators cared to watch our game because the outcome was obvious…he was a super-Chinese 12th grader from a rich family AAA-member rated 1600, while I was an obviously a poor 10th grader from a crap school rated only 922. (Player ratings given by the United States Chess Federation.)
But our game lasted forever. Eventually a huge crowd of spectators gathered around our game for 2 reasons. One was because nearly all the other games had already ended. And the second…was because they couldn’t understand how a 10th-grade nobody from a poor school had taken a highly-decorated 12th AAA-leader into the endgame. To make matters worse…I was the one with more time. He was absolutely stressed out of his mind with only 60 seconds left on the clock whereas I had a whole 5 minutes. Every second ticking on the clock was everybody screaming WTF was going on.
But he hustled, and he found the right moves to force me into a checkmate with only a minute left. We shook hands and the huge crowd clapped in amazement. Although I lost, my coaches and team came over to hug and congratulate me. Looking back, I’d confidently say I was the better player in terms of raw mental strength. But he was better trained and experienced. For that tournament, I didn’t place in the top 5 but I won the best 11th-grader trophy.
Skateboarding superstar in the making
Skateboarding and skateboard culture was trending very heavily at the time. To be a good skater made you cool. And me being a really good skater gave me instant cool points. Tons of other boys looked up to me, and wanted to hang out with me. Gangsters respected me too for being able to do crazy things like jumping off stairs and rails that they wouldn’t try. They also didn’t mess with me because they knew I wasn’t a gangster and no threat to their turf or anything like that.
- I was known by everyone as “skater Johnny” or “crazy Johnny” or “crazy skater Johnny”.
Being without a mother or father figure at home meant I could be out super late. I was out in the streets even up to 2am when I had school the next day. Nobody cared. As long as I wasn’t coming home in handcuffs, that was the only rule.
Being out super late allowed me to skate all night long and get really really good at skateboarding. Also allowed me to make friends with all kinds neighborhood characters (both good and bad). At Logan Elementary school (a neighborhood 20mins away from ours), I was lucky to find a group of really cool skater kids. All of them were street kids as well from the ghetto like me and also living without much adult supervision.
But we were all good kids. And stayed ethical…not doing crime when it was so easy at night (like other kids and other skaters. Even our leader (Hasan) urged us not to do drugs and we listened because we respected his skateboarding. We were a very positive crew. Just honing our passion and enjoying each other’s company in this dangerous world full of slippery traps and pitfalls.
School friends
Appearance makeover – clothes & hair
Instead of that unsexy Asian bowl cut or nerdy combover, I started spiking my hair. And that definitely made me look 100 times cooler. I also started wearing nicer clothes, like baggier pants (which were fashionable at the time). I owe my best friend Bryan a lot for this, since it was him who gave me money to buy clothes when my parents did not. His parents gave him money for working at the family convenience store.
Doing this definitely helped me seem more cool and make cooler friends in high school.
A quick rundown of my closest friends friends. Who they were and their background.
- Bryan L – Korean son of immigrant parents who owned convenience store and plumbing business. They would later change businesses to a pet shop and also apartment management. Bryan’s father was absolutely cruel, kicked and killed his puppy in front of him and also abused him physically and verbally often. One day when Bryan was older, he stood up to his dad…fighting and kicking his ass. Bryan’s mom was always taking his father’s side.
- Makka E – a short/fat Cambodian guy and fellow skater who gets terrible grades, whereas his sisters get amazing grades. He was a big fan of my skateboarding and always cheered me on and lived vicariously through my accomplishments.
- Dary P – Makka’s cousin (their moms are sisters), a tall/hand Cambodian skater friend (total ladies guy) and who also like Makka, gets terrible grades while his sisters get amazing grades. Dary’s father was a gang leader and abused Dary’s mother endlessly. One day she tried to run away, she took the kids to her sister’s house (Makka’s house). His father showed up the next day demanding she came back home. His father and mother were pulling his sister from different arms. And finally he beat the crap out of his mother and forced her and the kids back into the car. Dary’s aunt (Makka’s mother) called the cops…and the next morning, Dary woke up with a huge gun pointed at his face. The cops had raided their house and were looking for his father. They found him in the bedroom and arrested him. They later found tons of weapons, grenades, drugs, and other illegal things in his house. And they sentenced him to many years in prison.
- Edwin, Ryan & Dexter – Edwin (older) and Ryan (younger) are 2 Filipino brothers, really sweet pleasant folks. Dexter is their cousin, who is always joking around except for when he gets super mad.
- Darwin R – really nice Filipino guy whose parents were really old. I don’t know why but he never had a girlfriend for as long as I’ve known him. And I also don’t think he’s gay. I don’t know what’s wrong there.
- Felix & Jeffrey – two Guatemalan brothers who were troublemakers but fellow skaters. Jeffrey later joined a gang and had problems with the cops.
- Aaron T – fat Filipino boy with two younger sisters, they all live with their grandparents. Because their grandparents were still in the Philippines. Their uncle was a drug-dealer and one day the LAPD SWAT team busted down the front door wall and raided the house with dozens of cops with big guns and dogs. I was playing games in their house and inadvertently part of this drug bust. It was terrifying to see a gun pointed in my face again. (Happened when I was 18 just visiting after bootcamp.)
- Peter F, Raymond B, Steven T, Ulysses A, Julie D, Lisa M, Jayson G, Anne C, Soty C – other nice kids who went on to live quite normal lives. Making it to college and I’d often run into them here and there throughout the holidays when we had big parties at each other’s houses or go to party places like Las Vegas together.
You may hear their names repeated elsewhere in my stories.
My friends liked me.
They called me “crazy” too, but they meant it in a good way. That I was a brave daredevil, bold, risk-taking, never afraid of anything. I was the craziest person of all my friends. And happy to live up to that identity for them. Never shy of any stunt or something absolutely wild. I enjoyed the spotlight.