Growing Up (when?)
I was born in Los Angeles County. My parents met at a Rainbird Sprinkler Factory outside Los Angeles and married shortly after. Five years later, I was born. My parents split when I was six, resulting in three bids for custody when I was six, 12, and 16. Not understanding what was happening, twice I was given the option to choose which parent to have primary custody over; an opportunity my mother took advantage of. She could not provide for me, but relied on payments from my father for her own survival. Knowing her son could have a better life with his father with a roof over his head, enough food, his own room, and stability until she could comfortably provide for me; she chose her own financial benefits over my welfare. My father did not have much money, but he was middle class, working as a telecommunications contractor. He worked hard and long hours, earning everything he had. My mother did not work, apart from occasional odd jobs or bartering for room for things like house sitting or nannying.
I did not know any better – and should never have been put in a position to decide in the first place – and so, from sixth grade through around my sophomore year of high school, had regular periods of homelessness when I stayed with my mother, who had primary custody. We’d regularly sleep in churches, in a van, on living rooms of friends or places where she could take odd jobs in exchange for living arrangements. I thought I was protecting my mother, who said she would not be able to survive if I chose to live with my father, and I thought I was saving her. I did not realize until I was in my 20s that the roles were reversed. I was manipulated. It is a parent’s job to care for their children – not the other way around. My father was painted as the selfish villain, although he never once spoke ill of my mother to me despite all he went through for me. Both parents remarried, but my mom suddenly married at the end of one summer. Unfortunately, my new stepfather brought only menace. My mother had her security, but my own peace and stability remained out of reach. I wanted to live in my own apartment, finish school, and work on my own when I was 16 and earning income, but my parents would not allow it.
This instability robbed me of a stable childhood and exposed me to a variety of events, situations, and people that a kid should not endure. But I did my best to make the most of them. I had a unique opportunity to learn about people, and ugly realities that kids are often sheltered from. I admired the hard work, entrepreneurialism, and professionalism of my father, and would spend my weekends and summers as a teenager on construction sites with him. My father and mother provided me with a view of two contrasting work ethics and ethos. Working for him gave me opportunity to earn and save money. From 12 years old, I invested the money I worked so hard to earn in CDs, and later stocks through mutual funds. Most of this was wiped out in the dot com bubble; all of my money was put where my father had his. Still, I traveled through southern California working long weeks and hours with my dad. It brought me to attend the San Diego Comic Convention in 1998, where I met Stan Lee and many other creators, and some of the actors from the Blade movie; and years earlier in an elevator with OJ Simpson and his several bodyguards right after he was acquitted. I said hello to him, and he replied, “Hello, Little Guy!”. My dad disproved, telling me not to talk to a murderer.
These experiences helped drive me to grow up fast, learn independence early, drove the importance of entrepreneurship, and being poor and homeless unlocked appreciation for what I had in the future. Growing up as an only child developed my creativity and instilled independence.
If I wanted something, like the comic books I loved reading, most of the time I would have to work for it and buy it. My first business was a lemonade stand I started in the summer before or after fourth grade at the University of California Irvine’s campus housing. It was across the street from the Albertsons grocery store, so restocking supplies was easy. My friend lived next door, which made getting water easy and cheap. I made about $15/hour that summer in 1994, and charged an extra quarter for the “Lemon Special”, which was a lemonhead candy dropped in the drink, which really bumped up the margins. I wasn’t taught business but figuring out all of my costs and revenue to determine profit, and sales, came naturally. Unfortunately, I did not realize this about myself until I was 25 and decided to go to business school instead of law school.
Nearly all my friends were also from poor households with single mothers. While my upbringing had long rough periods, I was fortunate to be surrounded by quality public schools with a diverse student body. Granted, my elementary, middle, and high schools all tried to kick me out in 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th grade, as my instable living situation was publicly known. My living situation led to frequent bullying, common for anyone growing up, especially someone who stands out. This resulted in several suspensions from the 6th through 8th grades.
I was fortunate to attend schools that had an international and diverse student body. Students from over 50 countries attended my high school, and middle and elementary schools also had international students. Over the years I developed friendships with classmates from Japan, Indonesia, China, Taiwan, India, Pakistan, UK, France, Ukraine, Russia, Iran, Brazil, Germany, Philippines, Korea, Mexico, and more. This gave me a more real understanding of the world outside of the United States. While I chose not to do homework in elementary school, the work I did do and enjoy were ones that involved studying other countries, cultures, and geographies. My third-grade teacher once asked me why I never do homework. I replied that colleges didn’t look at elementary grades and I’d rather spend my time playing. She didn’t like that answer and took me outside.
Of course, my grades were low through high school. The only time I had reasonably good grades was in one or two years in high school, when I had some stability to focus and learn. I was held back a year in math entering high school, and amid having schools try to kick me out often and struggling with grades, and being looked down on, I felt that I was the least intelligent student in each of my classes. I would have to face an upbringing of failure in academics years later when trying to enroll in one of the most academically rigorous universities in the country, the College of William and Mary.
As soon as I turned 16, I got a job at my favorite restaurant, Asia Noodle Café. The owner Patrick was an immigrant from Hong Kong, and 13-year-old me, looking to earn money to eat or buy a comic book, asked if I could work for him along with my friend Kevin. He let us set up and clean in exchange for lunch and said when I turned 16 to come back and he would hire me. That’s what I did years later, and I learned a lot from Patrick. I left in September of my senior year to focus on studies and what I wanted to do after high school- college or not. A week later, the 9/11 attacks happened. My decision was made, and I was the only one in my high school to enlist in the Marine Corps.
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