My Memoirs - By Zack Chavez

  I was born in the shadows of war, in a poor Manila neighborhood, where hunger was familiar and dreams were often a luxury we couldn't afford. My parents made a humble living operating a small laundry business, scrubbing clothes for small change while raising a family with more love than means. Our roof leaked, our meals were simple, and the world outside our door was anything but kind. But somewhere between the cracked walls of our home and the distant roar of wartime sirens, a quiet determination began to grow inside me—a refusal to be defined by poverty or circumstance. When I left the Philippines after two years of college, I carried little more than hope and a restless spirit. I enlisted in the United States Coast Guard as a steward, serving meals and cleaning quarters for officers whose ranks I could barely imagine reaching. But I learned. I listened. I worked. One step at a time, I climbed. And after 27 years of service, I retired with the rank of commander—something almost...

 One of my first childhood memories is fleeing our home as bombs fell and exploded around us. We frantically ran for our lives and took cover in an air raid shelter somewhere near Manila.  The attack came from the American forces who had just started liberating the Philippines from the Japanese before the end of WWII.  Fireballs lit up the sky and looked deceptively like fireworks in my four year old mind as they rained down upon us.  Huddled together in the shelter, my mother clutched me close to her side as she fervently prayed the rosary with other women who were gathered with us.  They were worried and frightened as the deafening booms made our ears ring and the  ground quake beneath our feet. The air was stifling and thick with smoke and terror, but I was mercifully too young to be afraid as we cowered beneath the ground and the world imploded above our heads. Once the bombing ceased and the skies and streets were quiet, we emerged from our shelter, an...

On the morning of November 27, 1959, I stood at Sangley Point with 24 other young Filipino men, my heart pounding in my chest. I was about to take an oath that would change the course of my life. We were enlisting in the United States Coast Guard as steward recruits—the lowest possible rank. And we all knew what it meant: once we took that oath, there would be no going home. As the words were spoken and our right hands rose, I felt the weight of it settle in. I was now a U.S. military serviceman. But along with the pride came a gnawing ache—I wouldn’t see my family again for at least four years. Unless, of course, I failed and was sent home unfit for duty. That fear clung to me like a shadow. We all looked around at one another, our eyes wide and uncertain. Nobody said it aloud, but we were scared. That first afternoon, we filled out paperwork until noon, then marched to the mess hall for our first official meal. I had never seen anything like it. The food was laid out cafeteria-style:...

  Soon after I married Louise, I applied for U.S. citizenship.  By virtue of my being married to an American citizen, I was able to acquire my citizenship pretty quickly, and officially became a citizen in late 1963. Obtaining my U.S. citizenship opened many doors of opportunity for my career in the Coast Guard.  Now I could change my rate and there were so many to choose from. I decided to become an ET (Electronic Technician) because I liked the challenge of repairing complicated electronic equipment. While on the Nemesis, I requested to change my rate and received a highly favorable endorsement from the captain.    In 1964, I took the Electronics Technician exam and easily passed it, and shortly after, I officially began my training. After clearing a background check for Secret security clearance, my rating was changed from Stewardsman to Seaman and I was given a set of orders to undergo six months of Electronics Technician ‘A’ school at the Coast Guard Traini...

  Just before enlisting in the Coast Guard in 1959, my barkada (my close friends, all guys) and I got together one evening at the neighborhood basketball court drinking San Miguel beer.  It was a farewell get together as I was leaving the next day for Sangley Point.  We were having a great time singing Elvis songs at the accompaniment of Carlito’s ukulele.  Carlito was good.  He had taught me the chords to play Elvis’ “Loving You”. My friends were sad that I was leaving the barkada, and yet they thought it was a great opportunity for me to meet and date American girls, which they could only do in their dreams.  Boy Fernandez reminded me to write often and to tell them about my social life in the United States. My first report to Boy Fernandez was about my experience in Los Angeles on my way to St. Petersburg by Greyhound bus.   I was invited by a pen-pal, Barbara, to spend a few days with her family.  I was introduced to Barbara by her brothe...

Louise Ann Chavez was born on April 22, 1942  to the late Frances Cummings and Thomas Alfred Spratt in Cortland, NY.  The youngest of three children, she is survived by her brother, Gordon Spratt (Terry), of Tellico Plains, Tennessee.  Her sister, Doreen Holbrook (Earl), formerly of Coral Gables, FL, preceded her in death. Louise, or Weezer, as she was called by Gordon growing up, was beautiful and smart, kind and loving, hardworking, resilient and a bit of a rebel.  Her grandfather immigrated to the US from England and her family made its way to upstate New York, then moved to Florida from Cortland, NY when she was young.  Late in life, as dementia made recent memories fade, she’d happily recount details of childhood visits to a family farm in NY. Louise graduated from Dixie Hollins High School in St. Petersburg, FL in 1960 as salutatorian, and attended Florida Presbyterian College on a full academic scholarship.  (Did we mention she was smart?)  But ...