Was just reading some poetry and looking at pictures of Al Robles during Filipino American Month. Trying to remember you, Al. Full of nonsense and a Zen mystique that played games with your love of the people. Filipino people, Asian people, Black people, Latino people, Native American people…..all people. So much love. And each one with an individual look. An individual look for each person and each friendship. And Al was full of those loves and friendships. An honest and original and child-like openness spun in the Zen Buddhist koan of Al Robles’ words. And thoughts and love. Inimitable. How can I describe it without saying too much? That twinkle in the eye and a ready laughter. Slapping your hands with his brown hands and smiling under his wispy grey mustache. A surprisingly strong grip and a straight strong body. Pretty good for someone in his late 70s. How many people did Al help out with a strong mind support? How many people did Al help out with a free box lunch? Saint Al. Al was a Saint. And Al was a friend. Always there and everywhere. Al really was everywhere. Laughing and standing strong in his army jacket and fur hat. Or his famous Hawaiian shirts and hiking boots. Thinking about you, Al. I would miss you so much I could cry except that is so contrary to what you stood for. Always moving in and out and punching and counterpunching this life. Like a Filipino flyweight fighter who asks for one more round, and one more round. But it’s hard to believe that you’re not around. It’s still hard to believe, years later. You are missed. And we love you.