Correction: My Asian Friend - Marsha Johanson

[Larry Robinson]

I mistyped the name of today’s poet.
She is Marsha Johanson, not Marsha Johnson.

My Asian Friend

You were Asian, I was Jewish.
We first met at the UCLA Medical Center,
typists, stuck together inside a tight
cubbyhole scented of cigarettes,
marijuana and body odor.

On weekends, we listened to classic rock
and cruised Sunset Boulevard in our
1966 Mustangs.

I married a boat carpenter,
you donned purple silk
at my wedding, dancing 
with family and friends
at The Sportsman’s Lodge.

You eventually married a loving Japanese man,
and became a dedicated educator in
the Los Angeles school district,
and moved up the ranks to superintendent level.

I moved away, but we still reached out
and shared our heartaches.
Your dad played baseball in an internment camp,
my dad died of a brain tumor.

50 years later, we still connect on so many levels.
I’ve suffered with anti-semitic slurs 
in Paris, Texas and New Mexico.

You’re now targeted, in the midst of scapegoating
as Asian Americans are subjected to hateful rhetoric
and asked why they brought Coronavirus
into our country.

The pandemic has made our lives more fragile,
but our friendship continues to keep us grounded.
As the years pass, we find new ways to rise up 
above hate and ignorance, our souls intact,
as proud survivors and strong caring women,
facing any challenge together.

     - Marsha Johanson









“Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.”
Wendell Berry




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