Hello to all my dear friends
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

Each friend represents a world in us,
a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born....Anais Nin

As I travelled around and meet new people, and making new friends, I am becoming more and more appreciative of how much you all mean to me, and how each and everyone of you opened up a new and wonderful world in my life, making it richer, more interesting and more meaningful.

I appreciate all your enquiries about my wellbeing and my whereabouts and I do want to apologise that in my travel I am not able to get ready internet access and if and when I am able to I love to provide you all with an update.

I am well and in good health and since I came back to Malaysia on Oct 3rd I have been visiting my 7 sisters and 3 brothers and 31 nieces and nephews and 21 grand nieces and grand nephews.
I have never seen them for 24 years and you imagine my astonishment when I met them face to face for the first time.

I will be leaving for China on November 1st and one of the biggest worry of my family is that I may disappear for another 24 years again hahahahaha I promised them that I will not be away that long and will keep in close contact while travelling in China. I have taken many pictures and will publish them when I more settled down and have the time and inclination to write my travel journal.

Thanks again for your caring and I like to let you all know that you all will continue to stay close in my
heart no matter where I am at in this wonderful world and surrounded my such wonderful friends..... Allan

12:31 AM - 7 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

Returning to my roots - my journey
Category: Blogging

Today I writing from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and indeed time
flies so fast that already 16 days had flown away since I left
USA on Oct 1st.
To all my wonderful friends in Myspace I do owe all of you an
apology for not replying to your nice messages and birthday
wishes. Being away for almost 24 years from my family of 7 sisters
and 3 brothers there are so much to catch up with all the
events and changes and new additions to the family group.
From 11 of us we have 36 children and from them we got 21 new
family members. Small wonder this world is so full of chinese
people hahahahhaha.

I am still adjusting to the time difference (eg: 2 pm in Texas on Oct 5th
is 3 am on October 6th in Asia) and so for the past week I would
wake up in the middle of the night when  everyone was sound asleep
Unfortunately at that time I dont have any internet access in the home
where I was visiting. My family members are staying in different towns
and so far I have visited and stayed in 7 different homes.

Indeed I feel blessed to have such  wonderful family members and
friends whose love and caring is so unconditional  inspite of my long
absence in their lives. Sometimes I feel the purest form of love are
those that we get from our families and from real friends, and not so
much from our lovers, where love is somewhat selfish and conditional.

I have so much to write on my blog on this latest journey of mine that will
continue with my journey to China on November 1st but today's letter
is to let all of you know that I appreciate your friendship, that I feel
your love and that I love all of you dearly. Please continue to visit my
page and do put in some messages. Any messages from you is always a joy to
to read.

Till my next update,

stay positive and be happy

Allan

3:40 PM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

RETURNING TO MY ROOTS - a personal journey
Current mood: excited
Category: Travel and Places

My dear, dear friends,

I like to thank all of you who had enquired about my
well-being and all other comments and do wish to
apologise for not replying to each and everyone of you.

Lately I have been making preparations to return to my
roots and that is my hometown of Taiping in Malaysia,
where I was born and spent most of my years there until
I left in for Kuala Lumpur to work.

I will be leaving USA for good, but will return to visit
my four children and grandkids. I will be flying off on
on October 1 and after that I will be visiting China.

If time permits I would like to write about my travels in
my blog and post pics of the various places that I intend to
visit.

Let me thank all of you for your friendship and your kind
comments on my poems. I am at the moment not having the
inspirations to write poems and hopefully not so in the
near future.

I wish all of you the best.

6:18 AM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

LOVING AND CARING
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Writing and Poetry

Love and care for the one you love every single day ...

I was born in a secluded village on  a mountain. Day
by day my parents plowed the yellow dry soil with
their backs facing the sky.

I have a younger brother, 3 years younger than me.
Once, to buy a handkerchief which all girls around me
seemed to have, I stole 50 cents from my father's
drawer. Father knew about it right away.

He made my younger brother and me kneeled against the
wall, with a bamboo stick in his hand.

"Who stole the money?" he asked. I was stunned, too
afraid to talk. Father didn't hear any of us admit, so
he said, "Fine, if nobody wants to admit, you two
should be beaten!"

He lifted up the bamboo stick. Suddenly, my younger
brother gripped father's hand and said," Dad, I was
the one who did it!"

The long stick smacked on my brother's back
repeatedly.

Father was so angry that he kept on whipping my
brother until he lost his breath. After that, he sat
down on our stone bed and scolded my brother, "You
have learnt to steal from your own house now, what
other embarrassing things you will do in the future??
You should be beaten to death! You shameless thief!"

That night, mother and I hugged my brother. His body
full of injuries, but he didn't shed a single tear.

In the middle of the night, all of sudden I cried out
loudly. My brother covered my mouth with his little
hand and said, " Sis, now don't cry anymore.
Everything has happened." I still hate myself for
didn't have enough courage to admit what I had done.

Years gone by, but the incident still looked like it
just happened! yesterday. I will never forget my
brother's _expression when he protected me. That year,
my brother was 8 years old; I was 11 years old.

When my brother was in his last year of his lower
secondary school, he was accepted in an upper
secondary school in the central. At the same time, I
was accepted into a province's university. That night,
father squatted in the yard, smoking, packet by
packet.

I could hear him said, "Both our children have good
results? very good results" Mother wiped off her tears
and sighed," What is the use? How can we possibly
finance both of them?"

At that time, my brother walked out, he stood in front
of father and said,"Dad, I don't want to continue my
study anymore, I have read enough books."

Father swung his hand and slapped brother on his face.
"Why do you have a spirit so damn weak? Even if it
means I have to beg for money on the streets, I will
send you two to school until you both finish your
study!"

And then, he started to knock on every house in the
village to borrow money. I stuck out my hand as soft
as I can to my brother's swollen face, and said, "A
boy has to continue his study; If not, he will not be
able to leave this depths of poverty."

Me, on the other hand, had decided not to further my
study to university. Who knows on the next day, before
dawn, my brother left the house with a few pieces of
worn-out clothes and a few dry beans. He sneaked to
the side of my bed and left a note on my pillow; "Sis,
get into an university is not easy. I will go find a
job and send money to you."

I held the note while sitting on my bed, and cried
until I lost my voice. That year, my brother was 17
years old; I was 20 years old. With the money father
borrowed from the whole village, and money my brother
earned from carrying cement on his back at
construction site, finally, I managed to get to the
third year of my study in the university.

One day, I was studying in my room, when my roommate
came in and told me,"There's a villager waiting for
you outside!" Why is there a villager looking for me?
I walked out, and saw my brother from afar, His whole
body is dirty, covered by dust, cement and sands. I
asked him, "Why didn't you tell my roommate that you
are my brother?" He replied with a smile," Look at my
appearance. What will they think if they know that I
am your brother? Don't they laugh at you?"

I felt so touched, and tears filled my eyes. I swept
away dusts from my brother's body. And said with a
lump in my throat, " I don't care of what people say!
You are my brother no matter what your appearance is"

From his pocket, he took out a butterfly hair clip. He
wore it on me, and said, "I saw all the girls in town
are wearing it. So, I think you should also have one."
I could not hold back myself anymore. I pulled my
brother into my arms and cried and cried. That year,
my brother was 20 years old; I was 23 years old.

The first time I brought my boyfriend home, the broken
window had been repaired. And it looked so clean
inside the house. After, my boyfriend went home, I
danced like a small girl in front of my mother, "Mom,
you don't have to spend so much time cleaning the
house!" But she said with a smile," It was your
brother who came home early to clean the house. Didn't
you see the wound on his hand? He was injured while
replacing the window."

I went into my brother's small bedroom. Looking at his
thin face, I felt like there are hundreds of needle
pricking in my heart. I put some ointment on his wound
and bandaged it,

"Does it hurt? " I asked him.

"No, it doesn't hurt. You know, when I was working in
the construction site, stones falling on my feet all
the time. Even that could not stop me from working
and" In the middle of the sentence, he stopped. I
turned my back on him and tears rolling down my face.
That year, my brother was 23 years old; I was 26 years
old.

After I got married, I lived in the city. Lots of time
my husband invited my parents to come and live with
us, but they didn't want. They said, once they left
the village, they didn't know what to do.

My brother also didn't agree, he said, "Sis, you just
take care of your parents-in-law. I will take care
of mom and dad here."

My husband became the director of his factory. We
wanted my brother to get the job as the manager in the
department of maintenance. But my brother rejected the
offer. He insisted on starting to work as a repair
worker.

One day, my brother was on the top of a ladder
repairing a cable, when he got electrocuted, and was
sent to the hospital.

My husband and I visited him. Looking at the white
gypsum on his leg, I grumbled,"Why did you reject to
be a manager? Manager will not do something dangerous
like this. Look at you now, such a serious injury. Why
you didn't want to listen to us?"

With a serious _expression on his face, he defended on
his decision, "Think of brother-in-law? he just became
the director, and I almost uneducated. If I became the
manager, what kind of rumors will fly around?"

My husband's eyes filled up with tears, and then I
said, "But you lack in education also because of me!"
"Why talk about the past?" My brother held my hand.
That year, he was 26 years old and I was 29 years old.

My brother was 30 years old when he married a farmer
girl from the village. In his wedding reception, the
master of ceremonies asked him, "Who is the one you
respect and love the most?"

Without thinking, he answered," My sister." He
continued by telling a story I could not even
remember.

"When I was in primary school, the school was in
different village.Everyday, my sister and I walked for
2 hours to go school and go home. One day, I lost one
of my pair of gloves. My sister gave me one of hers.
She only wore one glove and walked for so far. When we
got home, her hand was so trembled because of the
weather that was so cold that she could not even hold
her chopsticks. From that day on, I swore that as long
as I live, I would take care of my sister and be
good to her."

Applause filled up the room. All guests turned their
attentions to me. Words were so hard to come out from
my mouth, "In my whole life, the one I would like to
thank the most is my brother," And in this happy
occasion,in front of the crowd, tears rolling down my
face again

(great story from my friends from China)

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11:26 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

a CRACKED POT
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Writing and Poetry

An elderly Chinese woman had two large
pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which
she carried across her shoulders.

One of the pots had a crack in it while the
other pot was perfect and always delivered a
full portion of water.

At the end of the long walk from the stream to
the house, the cracked pot arrived only half
full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the
woman bringing home only one and a half
pots of water. Of course, the perfect pot was
proud of its accomplishments.

But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its
own imperfection, and miserable that it could
only do half of what it had been made to do.

After 2 years of what it perceived to be bitter
failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the
stream. "I am ashamed of myself, because
this crack in my side causes water to leak out
all the way back to your house."

The old woman smiled, "Did you notice that there are flowers on your
side of the path, but not on the other pot's side?

That's because I have always known about
your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your
side of the path, and every day while we walk
back, you water them." "For two years I have
been able to pick these beautiful flowers to
decorate the table.

Without you being just the way you are, there
would not be this beauty to grace the house."

Each of us has our own unique flaw.

But it's the cracks and flaws we each have
that make our lives together so very
interesting and rewarding.

You've just got to take each person for what
they are and look for the good in them.

To all of my crackpot friends, have a great day
and remember to smell the flowers, on your
side of the path.

FROM ONE CRACKED POT TO ANOTHER

(copied from Fortunecookiee blog)

9:54 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Death at Mount Everest - a true and very sad story
Current mood: crushed
Category: Blogging

DID DAVID SHARP HAD TO DIE? A SAD TRUE STORY
ON THE TRAGEDY OF A MOUNT EVEREST CLIMBER.

After having read the new's article last week I was
so saddened
by the callousness of mountain climbers who think
that reaching the mountain top is more important
that saving a human life. I am so terribly troubled
by all this senseless and apathetic attitude that
I had to purge this torment inside me by writing and
posting this to my blog.

The Man : David Sharp, a lanky 34-year-old Britton
making his 3rd and final attempt to reach the top of
Mt Everest, the world's tallest mountain. He tried in
2003 and 2004 and on both occasions were forced to abort
the attempts due to frostbite and lack of oxygen, that
cost him part of his two toes.

The Place: Nicknamed the "Death Zone" which
is the elevation above 26,000 feet at Mount Everest
where avalanches, crevasses,ferocious winds up to
125 mph, sudden storms, temperatures of 40�F below
zero, and oxygen deprivation,where the
air holds only a third as much oxygen as
at sea level, heightening the chances of
hypothermia, frostbite, high-altitude pulmonary
edema (when the lungs fatally fill with fluid)
and high-altitude cerebral edema (when the
oxygen-starved brain swells up). Even when
breathing bottled oxygen, climbers experience
extreme fatigue, impaired judgment and coordination,
headaches, nausea, double vision, and sometimes
hallucinations.


I am reproducing below the full story by the many
columnist from the Associated Press who put together this
sad episode.

The Event : In the first week of May, Sharp began his summit push.
He scaled the North Col, an ice cascade riddled with gaping
crevasses, and established a camp at about 25,920 feet, where
tents often must be pitched at 45-degree angles. But when he
awoke on the third morning, it was snowing and extremely
windy, and Sharp decided to abandon the attempt.
When he learned back at camp that, had he gone a little
higher, he would have found clearer weather, he second-guessed
his decision to turn around.
While plotting his next attempt, Sharp got into a discussion
about the use of bottled oxygen with Austrian mountain guide
Christian Stangl, a purist who considers climbing with gas
a form of "doping." Sharp told Stangl he would only reach for
oxygen in an extreme emergency. Stangl suggested it might be
better not to tire himself out carrying heavy cylinders he
might not use.
As far as Stangl could tell, Sharp was down to just one
cylinder. But Sharp knew the mountain was littered with
partial bottles that he could use.
By May 11, Sharp had reached Camp One at the North Col again.
He popped his head out of his green tent to offer
congratulations to Watson and partner Gheorge Dijmarescu as
they descended from what was Dijmarescu's eighth successful
summit and Watson's second.
Over the next three days, Sharp clawed his way back into the
Death Zone, threshold of the summit.
He was at about 27,560 feet shortly after 1 a.m. on the 14th,
when Colorado climber Bill Crouse and his team of a dozen
clients and Sherpas spotted him on their ascent at a
diagonally rising traverse known as the Exit Cracks.
Looking tired, Sharp sat in the falling snow, disconnected
from the fixed line to let other, faster climbers pass.
In the darkness, the climbers exchanged waves.
Crouse, working as a guide for noted New Zealand climber
Russell Brice, reached the summit and keyed his two-way radio
as multicolored Buddhist prayer flags flapped in a bitterly
cold wind.
"How much time do we have?" Crouse asked Brice, who had been
watching the ascent through a telescope from camp at the North Col.
"No more than 20 minutes," the leader said.
Descending, Crouse and his team reached the top of the Third
Step, roughly 490 vertical feet from the summit, around 11:20
a.m., when the guide noticed Sharp again at its base off
to the side, out of the blowing wind.
He was clipped to the fixed line, and Crouse's party unclipped
and re-clipped to get around him.
"Watch out," Crouse warned Sharp, but nothing else was said.
About an hour and 20 minutes later, at the Second Step,
Crouse looked back. The man his team had gone around had
moved higher, but barely just 300 feet or so. He appeared
to be the last one up the mountain.
"That guy's going up pretty late in the day today," Crouse
said to a companion.
Sharp had already climbed higher than he'd ever been before.
At this altitude, he was taking several breaths for each step,
but the summit awaited, so close now.
Just a little farther.
Down from Everest's summit in the advance base camp, exhausted
climbers returned to congratulations, drinks and blessed rest
after the day's conquests.
But David Sharp, last spotted hours earlier near the mountain's
pinnacle, was not among them that evening, May 14. Still, the
experienced climbers who were his friends were not overly concerned.
Dave Watson assumed his friend had crawled into an unoccupied
tent at one of the high camps to rest. Sharp had turned around
just shy of the summit twice before, so Watson knew the Briton
was a smart climber. But he also knew Sharp thought of this as
his last trip to Everest and was determined not to leave in defeat.
He remembered a remark Sharp had made several days earlier
while acclimatizing at the camp. Other climbers were snapping
photos, but he told Watson he was saving the film in his
disposable camera.
"I've got all the pictures I need," he'd said, "except for
he summit."
Around 11:10 p.m., while many in the camp slept, on the
mountain's highest reaches another group began its summit push.
Mark Woodward, a guide for Himalayan Experience, was escorting
a camera crew filming fellow New Zealander Mark Inglis' bid to
become the first double amputee to reach the summit. Shortly
before 1 a.m., at about 27,760 feet, the group reached a rock
alcove where Woodward knew they would find "Green Boots" the
frozen Indian climber who'd died there 10 years earlier.
Woodward turned to warn a client when he got a shock: There
was a second pair of boots protruding from the cave.
In the glare of his headlamp, Woodward could see a man, still
clipped onto the red-and-blue guide rope, sitting to the right
of the dead Indian, his arms wrapped around his knees. He had
no oxygen mask on, and ice crystals had formed on his closed
eyelashes.
Cameraman Mark Whetu yelled at him to get moving, but there was
no response.
"The poor guy's stuffed," Woodward thought, believing the man
was in a hypothermic coma and beyond help.
No one radioed down to expedition leader Russell Brice about a
rescue. After pausing just long enough to unclip from the rope,
pass Sharp and clip back in, the group trudged on.
About 20 minutes later, a group of Turkish climbers from Middle
East Technical University's mountaineering club reached the
alcove and also saw Sharp. The group's Sherpa, Lapka, urged the
climber to get up and keep moving.
Sharp did not speak, but waved them off.
Others among the three dozen or so climbers attempting the
summit that day assumed Sharp was "Green Boots," or didn't
notice him at all.
Maxime Chaya had been first up the mountain that day and had
passed the notch before the others, but had noticed no one.
The beam from his headlamp was weak, and Chaya was focused on
his goal of becoming the first Lebanese citizen to summit Everest.
Climbing with a young Sherpa named Dorjee who was also making
his first summit attempt, Chaya reached the top at 5:50 a.m.,
just in time to see the sun rise. At this altitude, you can
see the curvature of the Earth, and the light hitting the
lesser peaks appeared like an arc of flame.
Chaya stripped off two of his three layers of mittens and
gloves for a photo of himself flashing the victory sign, just
before his camera froze. The temperature was minus 36 degrees
Fahrenheit as he and Dorjee headed back down.
It was a joyous descent until they reached the rock cave around
9:30 a.m. The sun was shining brilliantly, and this time they
could not miss Sharp and his red not green boots.
Chaya radioed Brice.
Sharp was unconscious and shivering violently, his teeth
clenched. His nose had already turned a deep black, his cheeks
and lips becoming that way.
He was hatless and without glasses or goggles, wearing just a
thin pair of light-blue woolen gloves. (When the Turks had
seen Sharp, he was still fully clothed.) Chaya could see his
crooked fingers were frozen solid.
Sharp's knees were drawn up in front of him. In Sharp's pack,
Chaya found only one oxygen bottle, the gauge on empty.
Chaya told Brice that Sharp's legs appeared to be frozen to
the knees, his arms to the elbows. Dorjee had attempted to
give the man oxygen, but there was no response.
"There's nothing you can do, Max," Brice said.
Brice reminded Chaya that he had only about 90 minutes' worth
of oxygen left. All of his Sherpas were helping clients down
the mountain, and there weren't enough people to carry an
unconscious man down tricky passes of ice and loose scree.
For nearly an hour, Chaya sat on a rock a few feet from Sharp,
crying and pleading into the radio. Down at the ABC, climbers
clustered around the radios and wept.
Finally, Chaya and Dorjee got up to leave. Chaya, a Greek
Orthodox Christian, stood by the dying man and began reciting
the Lord's Prayer in French:
"Notre P Gere qui Fetes aux cieux..."
Finishing, Chaya made the sign of the cross, and he and Dorjee
walked away.


It is not your body but your mind that carries you to the
summit and back, according to one climber who nearly died on
Everest.

"Your body is exhausted hours before you reach the top," Beck
Weathers wrote in a book recounting an expedition that killed
two of the most experienced guides during the 1996 Everest
season, the deadliest on record.
Weathers had been left for dead twice and made it down the
mountain only because he was able to keep walking.
"It is only through will and focus and drive that you continue
to move," wrote the Texas pathologist. "If you lose that focus,
your body is a dead, worthless thing beneath you."
As for the dead or dying, Weathers wrote, "you leave them."
When the Turkish team, descending now, encountered Sharp again,
it was already in rescue mode: a team member stricken with
acute altitude sickness was being evacuated.
Another climber, Eylem Elif Mavis, also descending from the
summit, found Sharp in what appeared to be a hypothermic coma.
She and her Sherpa, Nima, tried to hook one of their own
precious oxygen bottles to Sharp's regulator, but the device
did not work.
They scanned the man's clothing for something that might tell
them which expedition he was with, hoping they could alert his
team to mount a rescue, but found nothing. After a team leader
radioed the ABC with the unidentified climber's condition and
location, the group moved on.
Phurba Tashi, Brice's chief Sherpa, was descending with some
others at 11:45 a.m. and was wearing a video camera on his
helmet. Bending toward the shivering man, he asked his name.
Whether because of the rising temperature or the oxygen Dorjee
had given him, Sharp was somehow able to respond.

"My name is David Sharp," he said, according to some accounts.
"I'm with Asian Trekking, and I just want to sleep."

The Sherpas administered oxygen and tried to get Sharp to his
feet, but he kept collapsing.
They shifted Sharp a few feet into the sun, then headed down
the mountain.
Back at the advance base camp, uncertainty about three
unaccounted-for climbers was causing a buzz. Besides Sharp, a
Malaysian and an American, both first-timers, were overdue.
Many in the camp were less concerned about the experienced
Sharp, as they put out calls describing the other two (who
would later return safely).
As for Sharp himself, Phurba had not radioed his words down
to Brice, and Chaya had suggested the climber he'd found was
Russian, not British.
On the morning of May 16, as confusion gave way to serious
concern, Phurba described the stricken climber's gear to
Watson, who then went to Sharp's yellow tent and retrieved his
friend's passport. Yes, the Sherpa confirmed, that was the
man he'd seen.
But no new distress call was raised. There was no need.
A Sherpa who had just summitted with a Korean team called in
the news from the mountainside: The climber in red boots was dead.
Did David Sharp have to die?
Nearly two weeks after Sharp's death, Australian climber
Lincoln Hall was rescued from even higher on the mountain after
being left for dead and spending a night exposed to the
elements. It took more than a dozen Sherpas and 50 cylinders
of oxygen, but Hall like Weathers walked down under his
own steam.
Edmund Hillary was outraged after hearing that some climbers
reported Sharp's condition during the ascent, but were told
to continue to the summit. Suggesting he would have aborted '
his own historic climb to aid the young Briton, Hillary
declared that human life was "far more important than just
getting to the top of a mountain."
Brice, who has initiated or taken part in 15 Everest rescue
missions, insists he didn't know about Sharp's predicament
until Sharp was already beyond rescue. He says his radio logs
and transcripts of his conversations reveal no calls about a
stricken climber on the May 14-15 ascent.
Inglis, who reached the summit on his prosthetic legs, had
said in a May broadcast interview that his team radioed to
Brice about a stricken climber on their ascent before
Sharp had spent a second night in the cruel temperatures
and was told to go on. But the New Zealander told the AP this
month that he was so focused on the challenges of the climb
that "I may be mistaken."
Eleven climbers perished on Everest this season, the second
worst after 1996. But because of reports that as many as 40
people passed him as he lay dying, Sharp's death has received
the most attention.
Questions and recriminations swirl like the plume of snow
blowing from Everest's peak:
Why did no one try to administer high-altitude drugs which
most climbing teams carry with them to stimulate Sharp's
breathing and relieve possible brain swelling? Could a couple
of hours of high-flow oxygen have revived Sharp enough to get
him moving? Why do people who passed Sharp within minutes of
each other have significantly different recollections of his
condition?
Watson said Sharp was just an hour's climb above the high camps
for a strong Sherpa. He would have gladly helped pay for a
rescue effort as he and Dijmarescu had done in 2004, saving a
Mexican climber.
"It's too bad that none of the people who cared about David
knew he was in trouble," Watson said, "because the outcome
would have been a lot different."
Chaya, who did as much as anyone to help Sharp, offered
condolences to Sharp's parents. But he said Sharp made grave
errors by going alone with so little oxygen, without a radio
and so late in the day.
"It almost looks," he said, "like he had a death wish."
Although Sharp was not a client, Brice took it upon himself to
phone the Englishman's parents with the terrible news. In
early June, he hand-delivered his effects to their home in
Yorkshire.
Sharp's mother, Linda, did not blame Brice, Chaya or anyone
else for her son's death. She thanked them for what they did do.
"Your only responsibility," she said, "is to save yourself
not to try to save anyone else."
Nine days after confirmation of Sharp's death, Christian
Stangl, the Austrian climber who had befriended him, reached
the spot where Sharp's body lay.
Someone had placed Sharp's red and blue rucksack on his chest,
to cover his face. Stangl moved the pack, to see for himself
if it was indeed Sharp his eyes half open, his frozen hands
at his sides, palms heavenward.
The Austrian replaced the pack, stepped over those red Millet
boots and continued to the summit.
Did Sharp himself reach the summit, as some media outlets have
speculated? In the one interview they have granted, his parents
said they believe he did.
But, as with Everest pioneer George Leigh Mallory, no one is sure.
Sharp left no token at the top. No one has reported seeing him
there. His camera, like Mallory's, is unaccounted for.
Jamie McGuinness, who accompanied Sharp on his first Everest
climb, wants to believe his friend made it. Regardless, he
thinks Sharp would be satisfied to know that, in a kind of
frozen afterlife, his body will serve as a guidepost to the summit.
Another reminder of the price some pay for a chance to stand
on the roof of the world.

10:28 AM - 10 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

TIME FLIES ~ a new poem with voice recording
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Writing and Poetry

Time Flies.......

leaving behind faded pictures

and old memories,

of days gone by;

of hours spent,

with love ones

and the children.

Thru the windows of my mind,

it was just like yesterday,

memories so clear so vivid,

frollicking on the grass,

running against the winds,

rolling with the waves.

We were part of nature,

timeless, joyful in a

world of our own,

like a place of heaven on earth.

Those days are gone now.

Where have everyone gone?

Am I the only soul left here,

watching the clock

wondering when the hand will turn;

Waiting by the phone

wondering when will it ring

just to hear the voice

of love ones?

It saddens me to read

of old folks who had died

alone, unnoticed and abandoned.

Having given all

that they could give in their lifetime,

it looks so unjust, so callous

that Fate do mete out punishments

that defied explanations.

Notwithstanding, the days will move on,

the heaven will continue to roll

and all we could do is accept

whatever Fate had in store for us.

In the meanwhile, what we have

are faded pictures

and old memories to treasure

and keep us company

in our lonely hours

that stroll along so slowly.

copyright @ Allan Ng

Click here for voice recording of poem

  Click here to watch 'Time-Flies-97'

7:52 AM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

THIS 4TH JULY ~ what it means to me
Category: Writing and Poetry

Today is a special day for me. This is the first time that I am celebrating this
Independence Day as an American citizen. Last Friday, together with 400 other
people from dozens of different countries all over the world, we took
our Oath at the Naturalisation Ceremony in Austin, TX, and swore our
allegiance. While I am indeed very grateful for the bountiful blessings
of peace and other personal achievements that I had benefitted, let us not
forget the poor and the less fortunate  both in our own country as well
as in other undeveloped countries. War, the scourge of mankind, is still rampant
in many parts of our world. Death and sufferings from hunger and desease is still
a way of life in many places. While the voice of one person is not perceptible
the collective voices of millions of compassionate souls could raise a roar that
could be heard far and wide. Being a citizen now afford me the opportunity
to be more vocal in expressing my opposition on human issues that I felt needs to be
addressed.

I am looking forward to a great future for this country
while not forgetting the sacrifices of others who had made it possible.

Have a great July 4th

4:17 AM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

IN SILENCE WE STILL CONNECT ~ poem with voice
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Writing and Poetry

In Silence We Still Connect

In this deep void of Silence

Not a word between us was heard.

But I am connected to your presence

Our Silence spoke a thousand words.

Too many are too keen to speak their parts,

and no one really listens with their hearts.

Though many do hear the voices of the others.

It is so sad they had stopped talking to each other.

I am so glad we are not like that

cause in Silence we still connect.

If love truly exists within the heart

those whom we  love could not stay apart.

Not separated by distance or silence

two loving hearts are the connections.

They feel each others presence near or far.

They feel the solitude of a lonely star.

They feel the joy of early spring.

They feel the sadness of a broken wing.

In Silence we still connect

Those whom we truly love, its hard to forget.

(for voice recording click on this link)

Click here to watch 'In-Silence-we-still-connect'

Copyright by Allan Ng  2006

Currently listening : Chopin: Favorite Piano Works By Fryderyk Chopin Release date: 13 February, 1996

2:46 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

4th OF JULY ~ poem with voice recording
Category: Writing and Poetry

For all of us in America we celebrate Independance day with so much joy but not so for families whose country is at war!

This is just an impression felt by me, an easterner.

  4th Of July ? 

Like the 4th of July

the night sky opened  with a million stars.

Huge fireworks, like lightings, in vivid colors

danced  across the sky;

Fire crackers exploding everywhere

reminding  me of the celebration

where families gathered together

watching the colorful displays

in the midst of peace, love and joy .

Alas, these  lights and sounds

were  from machines of destruction.

This is no celebration ... this is war-time.

Instead of cheers we hear the moans

of the hurt and dying ;

instead of bouquet of flowers thrown on stage,

we see broken limbs, shoes and bloodstained clothings;

and pieces of flesh and broken bones.

Instead of Peace .... we see Chaos;

Instead of Joy...... we see Sorrow;

Instead of Love .... we see Hatred;

Instead of Caring .. we see Indifference;

Instead of Compassion we see Unkindness.

Where is our celebration  the children asked?

Their voices drowned in this madness of sound.

They lifted their tiny hands towards the sky for help;

The winds continued to howl

And the clouds floated away

And the Sky rolls on impotently.

Who will save them now?

copyright  @ Allan Ng 2006

Click here for voice recording

Click here to watch '4th-of-July-37'

Currently listening : Tchaikovsky: Concerto No. 1/Rachmaninoff: Concerto No. 2 By Sergey Rachmaninov Release date: 12 January, 1993

4:33 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment