I have too few memories of Steven, and that's what makes me saddest. And most angry. Because the memories I do have are like diamonds: gems, gleaming, bright with color flashing. But these gems are much more precious then diamonds – they are actually the most beautiful things I possess. They're those beautiful moments in time when my body, my mind, my very spirit feels lifted... those times when you just feel lucky to be alive. We've been robbed of Steven and these gems; I will grasp tightly the ones I have left. I will guard them jealously with my life.

Here is a gem I can let you see. My walks with Steven on the streets in San Francisco. Windy and sunny days. Rainy nights. The rare warm day in the park. With the hum of music still in our ears from the music we just witnessed at a club or from the stereo of our friend Steve Kim. I'd sometimes offer him a ride back home in my car. But he preferred walking. So walking was when we had our best talks. Like the time on a cold night walk along Dolores Street, when he said to me that he knew he wanted to marry Cindy. And that he wanted their many friends to attend. It was a surprise to me because San Francisco was then in the dot-com crash, and big weddings, which are by nature economic hardships, were especially unlikely in times like that. Steven knew it would take effort and money; he'd heard from older friends the reality that weddings are expensive propositions. But his voice sounded sure. I think he sounded this way because he understood it would be worth it; he had found someone for whom all the circus of drama and effort and payments of a big wedding would be worth it. I'm reading into his mind. But I know for sure he sounded happy and loud as he said it, and I know for sure that it was a crisp night, and that we didn't feel cold. We felt invigorated.

Here is another. It is a rainy night, and we are coming back from a big group dinner. I think it was spicy Persian food. A loud wood-smoked restaurant. We repaired to Fiona Cho's apartment where there was music again. Also cold drinks and videos. Mostly it was conversation punctuated by laughing. When we called it a night, my wife Amy and I drove Steven back to his apartment and boy, was it raining. The city lights reflected off the water-covered streets. The streets were deserted. We talked about how great the food was, and about the interesting video from Sooyoung Park's collection. But mostly we looked out the windows with caution at the rain, and marveled at the lonely and beautiful city being rained on. We crossed Market Street and Steven said, "Hey, you can just let me off here. We are right by the freeway (on-ramp) here and it will be great to walk a bit in the rain." Amy protested, but he buttoned up his rain jacket. "See, it has a hood," he said. "I'll be fine." So we let him go unto the slippery, shiny streets. We drove away, and I glimpsed him through the window, walking and smiling and giving us a quick wave through the falling water.

Another gem. This is moment men, I think, will relate to. Especially political buffs who like macho debate. I am visiting Peter Kim's house on the weekend, and Steven, Anna Colligan and Peter are hard at work reconstructing an eighty-year old house. "This Old House" with Asians. I don't remember what project they were on because I kinda distracted them into talking politics. Election madness of 2000. Coffee was made and we talked about the headlines. The talk became loud debating between Peter and me. We were all Democrats. But I blamed Clinton for the election and Peter blamed the Supreme Court. Anna got quiet when she realized her opinions where getting buried because she didn't have as much testosterone. Hormone-charged rants as in, "What you say is intelligent and interesting, but I'm actually right." Steven grinned through it all because he understood why it was fun. Because in the rough-and-tumble conversation, some new, maybe even true, idea might break free. So he moderated us, balancing on the edge between us. When I started to take the debate too seriously, he'd be there with the needed humor. We ended the debate by eating lunch together.

Coffee gone, we got beer with lunch and raised our bottles to each other. I knew then how lucky I was to have these friends. Friends who are not always easy. Who challenge one another to raise the bar and who stay friends through it all.

Glowing gem, summer day, the Bay Area. So sunny your skin reddens, yet still crisp and windy and starting to get chilly as the sun goes down. Someone, maybe it was Steven, gets the idea for a bonfire on Ocean Beach. And miraculously, spontaneously, it happens. I get a call from Peter who fills me in on the plan and from Redwood City I drive up with Amy and we pick up Cynthia Hong and Steven, and we drive west through the streets of San Francisco to the coast. There are pedestrians breathing in the late afternoon, and they are clogging the intersections. So we drive and we don't mind because it is a car full of new and old friendships and we have a pleasant journey ahead. Inside the car is a cocoon of conversation about our travels. Steven is a recent transplant from Chicago. Cynthia talks about her trip to Singapore. There is talk of Cynthia's boyfriend, a growing and maturing romance. There is talk of a girl Steven has met, a budding romance. Someone pretty and who speaks Taiwanese! There is quiet excitement in their voices and Amy and I prick up our ears at the gossip as I turn the radio low to listen to them talk travel and love and work and play and food and movies. I marvel at how we have all come from different places around the globe to end up in that one car sharing a destination for that one moment. Then the dusk descends and we arrive at the beach.

The sand is still warm, but the ocean wind is cold. Peter has procured firewood and within moments we are watching the sun disappear behind the darkening Pacific while the rising flames fight the wind and kick off heat to the circle of friends. I wish everyone who knows Steven could have been there that night. It was a gem. Time, space and luck had pushed us together in that circle until we shined clear and bright like a diamond in the night.

I wish I had more of these...I know we all do. But with your help I will guard these memories from theft. Together, we will not let them be taken from us. You don't have to write down your memories to help. If you are lucky like me and had good friends who showed you how to capture time with words, that's wonderful but not essential. What is essential, absolutely, is remembering the gem moments in your life. Those times you or I or we shared a laugh with Steven. And if you are truly lucky and you can manage to protect every single one of these gems in your mind's eye, in that place that remembers and dreams, then please pull me aside and let me know how you do it.

-Marle Chen

previous | next