Photo by Eric Lachica
By Jon Melegrito, FilVetREP Executive Secretary
Joaquin ‘Jack’ Tejada was among dozens of Filipino World War II veterans who protested in front of the White House and walked the halls of Congress in the 1990s to demand restoration of their rightful status and benefits, which were denied to them by the United States. The American Coalition for Filipino Veterans (ACFV), led by Pat Ganio and Eric Lachica, staged several demonstrations and congressional visits to demand justice for the 270,000 Filipino soldiers who fought under the American flag.
Jack Tejada died in December 2008. The unrelenting efforts of Jack and his comrades to fight for equity and justice eventually led, nine years after Jack’s death, to the Congressional Gold Medal – the highest civilian award given by Congress. Organizations like ACFV, NaFFAA, National Network for Veterans Equity (NNVE), Filipino Veterans Equity Center, Filipino Civil Rights Advocates (FilCRA), Philippine American Heritage Federation (PAHF), the Filipino Veterans Recognition and Education a Project (FilVetREP) and many others, helped paved the way in securing US recognition for the service and sacrifice of Filipino World War II Veterans. Today, FilVetREP continues to create greater awareness of their valor through its educational online program, www.dutytocountry.org
I wrote this column for Manila Mail on Dec. 15, 2008 in honor of Jack.
GOODBYE, JACK.
His comrades in arms called him Jack. The younger ones respectfully addressed him as “Tatang Jack.” And some, like me, simply greeted him as Mr. Tejada.
Joaquin “Jack” Tejada passed away suddenly on the first day of December. Although I knew that Filipino World War II veterans die at the rate of ten a day, I just never expected Mr. Tejada to leave any time soon. Even at 85.
He was his voluble self only a few weeks ago, the last time I saw him. I remember the firm handshake, but mostly the roughness of his palm. The stubby fingers, the disarming smile and the humbling stature of a hard working man – a soldier who faced death hundreds of times returning fire, a warrior whose gentle eyes had seen both gory and glory of war. They were all him, and more.
In my very first encounter with Mr. Tejada more than ten years ago, he struck me right away as someone I’ve met before. He reminded me of my father, also a war veteran. Not so much the girth but the mirth – the smiles that light up a room as he regales one and all of his colorful stories.
Mr. Tejada is like the father I never really got to know. But thanks to this “jolly veteran,” I’ve come to touch a part of my father’s life – the part that saw fire bursting in air that he never wanted to talk about, the part that longed for loved ones in the heat of battle – enduring days and nights in a death march that claimed the lives of young soldiers yearning to return home – the part that’s still reeling from a hurt, enough to tear the heart apart.
As we say goodbye to Jack, we are in a way bidding farewell to another year, one that embodied his raw vigor and vitality in a relentless pursuit of an elusive dream, his persistence against all odds, his fears and doubts that darkness will ever turn to light. It was a time of disappointments and regrets, of the pain of separation from those who have departed, of the seemingly pointless struggles of those confined in the margins just to keep a home, a job, a loved one, and a ray of light in the dark crevices of the most powerful nation on earth.
But with the election of Obama, the year embodies as well a resurgence of hope that something will finally change.
In a way, 2008 gave us a sense that we’re coming home – to where America really belongs. A new place. Where it is possible, finally, to make this country what it wants to become – home to those whose brain and brawn, whose services and sacrifices –like those of Jack’s – are transforming America.
It was a year that sets us up so we can heal the wounds, pick up the broken pieces and rebuild lives. Winter, after all, sets us up for the promises of spring. For apart from burials, there have been nuptials, more births and baptisms, more sounds of babies crying, sights of children growing and grown men wishing they’re kids once again.
As this year fades into yet another memory, we bid farewell only to “what-might-have been” that Jack, and many of us may have felt when it seemed like nobody cared. Our only solace is to still be able get up in the morning with spirits renewed to fight another day, and another, and another until the body fails and falls.
The ravages of time may take their toll on mortal flesh, on hips and knees and joint. But not on shared memories that keep a community vibrant and alive. As a Jewish saying goes, in remembrance we find redemption.
So it’s not really goodbye, Jack. Your presence among us lives for so long as we keep on fighting for that something that breathes.
Like justice. It dies only when we stop believing it still matters.
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The Filipino Veterans Recognition and Education Project (FilVetREP), is a nonpartisan, 501(c)(3) tax-exempt, community-based, all-volunteer national initiative whose mission is to obtain national recognition of Filipino and American WW11 soldiers across the United States and the Philippines for their wartime service to the U.S. and the Philippines from July 26, 1941 to December 31, 1946. For more information about Filipino WWII veterans and how to get involved, visit our website at www.filvetrep.org or find us on Facebook or Twitter.