On July 9th, 1989, my paternal grandfather, Monico B. Luis, Sr., passed away in Waipahu, Hawaii. Both he and my maternal grandfather, Honorio Acosta Hipol, could be considered 20th century Filipino American history in the flesh.

After going to school in Laoag, Ilokos Norte, Philippines, he was fortunate enough to be chosen to go to school in America. So he became one of many pensionados, who, usually with the monetary backing of a church or organization, were sponsored to continue their education in America. He graduated as Salutatorian from Poly High school in LA and ended up working in fields in both Hawaii and the Central Valley of California. Then he was recruited to the 2nd Filipino Infantry and was sworn in as a US citizen in Fresno, Ca.

When he died, I was going through puberty and just finished 7th grade. Up til that point, I didn't care about school and had no worries that I was barely pulling Cs. But when my aunt read Grandpa's eulogy I suddenly realized that I'm here chillin' and getting by, while he left his family behind in order to study hard. Graduating Salutatorian is no small feat. So as I looked upon his casket for the last time I swore to him that I would do better in school.

Up until I graduated high school I never had less than a 3.8 [okay so I sucked a little in English, sue me.]

Though I don't see myself leaving a family behind permanently, working in fields or fighting a world war, I'm still trying to continue the legacy he left behind.