INSIDE:

NEWS/STORIES/ARTICLES
Book Reviews
Columns/Opinion/Cartoon
Films
International
National
NW/Local
Recipes
Special A.C.E. Stories
Sports
Online Paper (PDF)

CLASSIFIED SECTION
Bids & Public Notices
NW Job Market

NW RESOURCE GUIDE
Consulates
Organizations
Scholarships
Special Sections

Asian Reporter Info

About Us

Advertising Info.

Contact Us
Subscription Info. & Back Issues

FOLLOW US
Facebook

Twitter

ASIA LINKS
Currency Exchange
Time Zones
More Asian Links
 

Copyright © 1990 - 2026
AR Home

My Turn by Dmae Lo Roberts

My hubby caught a cold on New Year’s Eve. He’d been doing a lot of shopping without a mask and also was a bit run down from fasting prep for a colonoscopy. I caught the cold three days later. The last few weeks have been a homebound blur trying to get well. It wasn’t the best way to start the new year.

I haven’t been down with a cold for almost a decade. People are astonished by that, but whenever I feel slightly under the weather I stay home and rest until I’m better. Getting a cold for me is a big deal because of my asthma. For my husband, he had to recover from a low-grade fever and tiredness, but after a few days he started to rebound. For me, it was a constant deep-in-your-chest cough that was so bad my entire torso felt like I pulled every muscle. I never want to go through that again, so masking in winter whenever enclosed with groups of people is now the rule in our house forever.

Being sick can make you feel hopeless, like you don’t matter. The world goes on and people post about all the wonderful or not-so-wonderful things going on around them. But when you’re so ill you can’t get out of bed without a coughing fit, your existence seems useless.

This changed when I received a DM from the husband of a former intern from 20 years ago. Jenny helped me with my AAPI history series that aired on public radio. I remember her as a lovely young grad student in Hawai‘i full of joy and grace. She helped to arrange interviews in Honolulu and drove us to appointments. We kept in touch after the project and I consulted with her on some of her international reporting projects. She married a handsome Columbian man she met while overseas and they brought a beautiful little girl into the world.

In our efforts to stay in touch, I provided some professional journalism contacts and lent advice when she needed it. I never felt like I’d done that much to assist Jenny with her work. I always enjoyed talking with her because she was so positive and had such a beautiful spirit. She had, however, been battling health issues for several years.

When Jenny’s husband wrote to me, he said she’d died. The news shook me to the core. She was in her 40s and that’s much too young to go. And this part really devastated me — he wrote, "She appreciated, respected, and admired you over the years. She said you helped her a lot when she was first discovering her passion for journalism and you were a great mentor."

I broke down in tears and I am again while writing this. I’ve mentored hundreds of younger people in my work in public radio and theater. I always try to help, but wonder if it’s enough. Radio mentees have sent cards thanking me and the notes are posted on a corkboard in my office. But the message from Jenny’s husband touched me so deeply — that she would express this to him when she was so close to passing — this meant more than my words can describe.

I think of Jenny’s legacy and the family she created and left behind. It’s so unfair someone this young with so much to live for has left the earth. No mentor should ever outlive their mentee. But I feel thankful I experienced those times with her.

No one truly knows the impact they have on another human, for good or ill. There are things I’ve regretted saying and I try to be the first one to apologize. I hope the good moments where I helped people in my work and in daily life outweigh any negative encounters.

The world is crazy right now. I never thought I’d live to see the turmoil going on in the country and the persistent and daily attacks on people of color. For me, the path out of feeling powerless is to attempt to have an impact. If you’re reading this and doubting your own impact on those around you, please believe that you have the power to make people feel better (or worse) about themselves.

We all have the ability to make the world just a little bit better. We matter. Everything we do and say matters. Every time we help someone, it matters. And one kind word in the darkest of times might pull a person out of the mire. I truly believe that. Even during Jenny’s last days, she thought of me. And that kindness will last my lifetime.