Kindness, humility... and a long, hot walk...

Part#1

So...Finished dinner with my friends who were visiting from overseas. They got dinner which always makes me feel bad as it is my town (well, my adopted town anyway) and I feel like I should host. But they were decided and that was that.

They said something about getting a cab back to their hotel so I extended the offer to take them in my car and drop them off at their hotel. They asked how far it was from my house and I lied and said 10 mins only. The reality was more like 25 mins each way - but I wanted to offer some kind of hospitality to my friends, so driving them back was my best choice - and I knew they would refuse if they thought it was out of my way...

I remembered vaguely that the car needed filling up but the gauge said there was enough gas for about 80kms when we left the restaurant area in the centre of town.

As we drove the warning light for low gas came on. The gauge still said 50 kms or so. I carried on. I dropped my friends off at the end of the Palm at their hotel and set off back making some work calls to colleagues in Europe to discuss some business matters.

Half way home and the "to go" gauge is showing 20kms... But I know there is a gas station soon...

But not soon enough. I ran out of gas. No more petrol. Sans benzine. Senza benzina. Mafi go-go juice. I swung the car to a bus stop layby and lit the hazard lights.

I told my colleague of my predicament as I carried on my conversation. He laughed and pointed out the irony of running out of petrol while living on top of the world's largest hydrocarbon deposits. It was not lost on me.

The temperature was a balmy 32 degrees and very humid as I set off on what I was sure was a short walk to the nearest gas station. Of course my estimates of distance were based on drive time and not walk time and it was maybe a kilometre and a half walk...

I arrived at the gas station sweaty and annoyed, and finished the call.

I located some plastic cans to fill with petrol and duly purchased a five litre can. Filled it with petrol outside, tipped the gas pump attendant and walked back to my empty car which seemed to be further away than I remembered.

There is something levelling about running out of gas. Whether you drive a Ferrari or a Fiat, a Lamborghini or a Lada, when you run out of gas they're all the same. Immobile lumps of metal and rubber. And utterly and completely useless.

I got back to the car tired, very sweaty and fed up but relieved as I would soon be going home. Wrong.

I opened the gas cap, and started to pour. And all that happened was petrol splashed down the side of my car. I poured more slowly and petrol splashed more slowly down the side of my car. By my estimation maybe a mouthful of petrol might have gone into the car and I'd nearly emptied the can...

It was then I took a closer look and identified the safety valve in the filler hole... Which needed to be pushed open to allow any petrol into the car. I made an attempt to pour very slowly the last few cups full of gas - hoping they would somehow magically drip into the tank. Instead they magically spilled all over me. Luckily no naked flames nearby or I would be writing this tale from the moon.

So I tried to start the car hoping for divine intervention but instead got a physics lesson:

Take one empty car. Pour gas down the side of it and all over the driver. Car remains empty. Start car. No gas means no start. Driver now sweaty, soaked in petrol and feeling like the idiot he is.

Part #2:

I crossed the road with my empty jerry can and hailed down a cab. I explained to the driver that I am a moron. In fact a double moron as first I had let my car run out of gas and second, that even when armed with a full can of petrol, I am too stupid to fill it up.

He looked at me in a kindly fashion and told me not to worry. He would help me. And then he smiled a gentle smile which was generous and true.

He drove me to the gas station while I explained that I needed some kind of tube or funnel to get the next batch of gas into the car.

He again said not to worry and that he would help me.

I got a second jerry can for good measure and filled both up, while asking the gas pump boy for a funnel or tube. The gas pump boy told me not to worry - he would help me.

He then took a used empty water bottle from the trash and cut it in half at an angle, creating a funnel. So simple and so practical. I - the President & CEO of my company in this region - would never have thought of something so smart.

Equipped with two jerry cans of gas and a new funnel, I got back in the cab and the kindly driver took me back to my car.

When we got to it, he looked at the car and then back at me.

"How did such a big car run out of petrol sir?" He asked.

Because its driver is a pea brain I thought, but actually said "Well... unfortunately the digital petrol gauge is clearly not accurate or possibly malfunctioned and I ran out of petrol before the estimated remaining mileage had elapsed."

I may as well have recited the Lords Prayer in Mandarin. He knew the truth. I was a stupid ass who forgot to fill his enormous car with petrol. Simple. Simpleton.

He looked at me with pity and set about opening the gas cap and the jerry cans...

I pointed out my previous discovery of the safety valve. Unfortunately the make shift funnel did not have enough length at the neck to open the valve so we needed another tool. The driver asked me if I had a pen. I did.

He issued the directions. I pushed the pen into the hole to open the valve and held the funnel while he slowly poured two jerry cans into the car. Barely a drop was spilled.

I went round and started the car. Relief! Joy! And air conditioning! Hooray.

The driver had stopped his meter when we pulled up but had spent another ten minutes helping me. The meter said 16 Dirhams - about 3 Euros or 4 dollars. I gave him 100 and he gave me 85 change. I went to give him an extra five Dirhams and he smiled at me and politely refused. "No sir. No need. I just wanted to help you."

He smiled at me once again and quietly got back in his cab.

I was rather moved by his kindness and humility - in stark contrast to my own arrogance and stupidity - not to mention haste which had seen me first end up running out of gas. Then rushing the solution and pouring gas all over myself and the car. Then seeing two men who will earn in twenty or thirty years what I earn in one year, create an improvised funnel from a old plastic water bottle.

And then seeing a man with nearly nothing help a man with obviously rather too much, literally out of the kindness of his heart. Humbly,quietly and unassumingly kind. Genuinely nice.

Made me feel good about the world, reflective about my own shortcomings, ego and vanities - and most of all made me want to share this story of my hero the cab driver and his side kick the gas pump kid.

I got home stinking of petrol, took a shower and then sat to write this right away. A fresh tale of kindness, humility...and a long, hot walk.

Rumi, Pinter & Waits

Three ways of looking at the same thing . . .

1. Whoever's calm and sensible

There is a light seed grain inside.

You fill it with yourself, or it dies.

I'm caught in this curling energy. Your hair.

Whoever's calm and sensible is insane.

Rumi

2. It is Here

What sound was that?

I turn away, into the shaking room.

What was that sound that came in on the dark?

What is this maze of light it leaves us in?

What is this stance we take,

To turn away and then turn back?

What did we hear?

It was the breath we took when we first met.

Listen. It is here.

Harold Pinter

3. Martha

Operator number please
It´s been so many years
And she remembers my old voice
While I fight the tears

Hello, hello there is this Martha ?
This is old Tom Frost
And I am calling long distance
Don´t worry ´bout the cost.....

It´s been 40 years or more
Now Martha please recall
And meet me out for coffee
Were we´ll talk about it all

And those were days of roses
Poetry and prose and Martha
All I had was you...
And all you had was me...

And there was no tomorrow´s
As we packed away our sorrows
And we saved it for a rainy day.....

And I feel so much older now
And you´re much older too
Oh, how´s the husband and how´s the kids
You know that I got married too.....

Oh, lucky that you found someone
To make you feel secure
Oh we were all so young and foolish
Now we are mature.....

And those were days of roses
Poetry and prose and Martha
All I had was you...
And all you had was me...

And there was no tomorrow´s
As we packed away our sorrows
And we saved it for a rainy day.....

And I was always so impulsive
I guess that I still am...
But all that really mattered then
Was that I was a man...

I guess that our being together
Was never meant to be
Oh, but Martha, oh Martha I love you...
Can´t you see.....?

And those were days of roses
Poetry and prose and Martha
All I had was you...
And all you had was me...

And there was no tomorrow´s
As we packed away our sorrows
And we saved it for a rainy day.....

And I remember quiet evenings
Trembling close to you.....

Tom Waits

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9Mse62NFl4 

Dear Dad . . .

Yesterday my father would have been 77 years old. But in fact he died 13 years ago in March, 1999 aged 64. In those 13 years I don’t think there has been a single day where I have not thought about my father or remembered something of his wisdom, advice, kindness or generosity of spirit.

That is not to say that his death did not make me angry. It did. It was way too early. He never saw me married (or indeed divorced). He never saw me make a success of my career – something I think he worried about. He never saw me become my own man. (Although many believe that one only becomes one’s “own man” upon the death of one’s father . . .) and his friendship was taken away from me far too early. And I miss it.

My father never showed up to sports where I played. Too busy. He never understood what I did for a living. Not interested enough. He never showed much emotion or affection. Not able to find the way. As a result my relationship with him was distant in some ways and very close in others.

The day of his funeral I wrote him a letter. I read that letter in the church – which was so full, people were gathered outside. He was a much loved man.

I was the only person in the church who did not cry during my reading of the letter. 

Indeed I did not grieve my father with tears until nearly two years later when I read that letter again one afternoon and began to cry, later wailing. It lasted for 3 hours without pause. I cried until I could cry no more.

I still read this letter from time to time and remember my father. My friend. My guide. I have more or less forgiven him for all the ways he rejected me – perhaps unknowingly – as a child, and for finally abandoning me in his death. Now I simply miss him and wish I could have his advice from time to time.

Fortunately he was a man of strong principle and strong values and I have those principles and values to guide me in his absence.

Our parents are precious. I hadn’t seen my father for more than a month before he died – putting off visits to home because I was too busy in my life, not calling to speak, because I’d get around to it next week. . . 

After his funeral and I returned to my apartment in London, I found a message on the answering machine from him. It asked me to give him a call and let him know how I was doing etc. He had left it a few days before he died. I had not returned his call. And for the last 13 years, I have wished that I had.

The letter I wrote to him for his funeral is below:

Dear Dad

Although it is not long since we last spoke, suddenly ‘last’ has new meaning for both of us. It seems strange that we will never again speak to each other, that we will never again laugh with each other, that we will never again argue with each other.

I don’t know how to say how much I miss you, I don’t know if it is even possible to measure, just as I don’t know how to say how much I love you.

Before you left, you gave us a little time to say the things we wanted to say to you, but suffice to say that whatever was said, it will never do justice to what I felt and feel about you, my father, my friend, my guide.

There are things which you have shown me and taught me that I haven’t yet understood, and part of your legacy is that one day I will and for that I thank you.

One of the most painful parts of knowing that you are gone, is knowing that you are not there anymore. Not there to ask a question, not there to give me advice, not there to ask a favour of. Although you are not there anymore, you will, however, always be here, with me, with mum, with Charlie and with all your many friends, because although you have gone, you will continue to live with us, with so many memories happy and sad, and with so many reasons to be grateful to you.

Your quiet, unassuming approach to life was characterised by your compassion, your dignity and your pride, but most of all by your unqualified respect for your fellow man, be he patient, colleague, friend or family.

You always believed in the right and the proper. In a selfish world, you were always generous, in a cruel world, always kind. Always human, always humane, you helped so many people in so many ways, but never expected anything in return.

And for this I love you, for this I am grateful to you and for this I will always remember you.

I have so much to thank you for, as my father and as my friend. If I could be half the man you were, I would be truly proud, as I am truly proud of you.

In finishing these words, I recall something you wrote in the front of your bible as a child:

Take nothing away from it

Add nothing to it

Change nothing in it

Believe all of it

God bless you Dad.

Your loving son,

David

A Short Piece About Truth

Last night I had a dream which, after I woke up and tried to decode it, I concluded was about "truth".

I love truth. It is perhaps an abstract concept for most of us for most of the time although we think about it and refer to it in some way almost daily.

The truth nourishes us (understanding & clarity) and sometimes frightens us (enlightenment sometimes sheds light on unpleasant, hurtful things as well as the pleasant and good) - but it never leaves us alone. We cannot remain unaffected by truth.

We spend much of our lives trying to reveal and conceal the truth in equal measure. These are not only futile exercises, they create stress and anguish.

We tend to try and tell people about positive truths, while we tend try and conceal negative truths

In our efforts to reveal or tell our truth we often exaggerate or lose perspective - and it is futile as the truth reveals itself in any case, at least to those who can see. Those who cannot will never see the truth of a matter no matter what our efforts are. Truth is the ultimate dimension of reality - and some can see it, some cannot.

Many of us spend a great deal of time trying to project or show our "positive" truth emphatically and with ever growing clarity - telling people we love them, telling people how sorry we are, telling people how excited we are, how interested etc. Trying to make them believe something which is - or should be - evident to all those who are receptive to truth. While those who are not will never see it anyway.

We do it with our colleagues at work when we tell them how impressed we are with them - to give them confidence and make them feel motivated and positive - when actually it is often OUR confidence in THEM that needs a boost or some reassurance. . .

We do it with friends when we tell them how happy we are for them when something good happens in their lives believing that we are showing our support, solidarity and affirmation - when in reality we are often telling them how we are worried that their new happiness or success somehow makes us insecure that they will somehow be pulled away from us.

We do it with lovers or partners when we profess our love, our commitment and our care for them, believing we are showing them our feelings and making them feel good about themselves and the relationship. In reality we are often telling them how insecure we are, how we are afraid of commitment and how we need their care.

In other words, when we seek to clarify or reveal our truth to others, it is a) often unnecessary as people know already know our truth through our behaviors and b) disingenuous as we are often telling a different truth for ourselves, but disguised as a truth for them.

Conversely we often try to hide the truth. Either out of fear of what it will do to us or fear of what it will do to others. (Most of the time the two fears are the same - i.e. if the truth is revealed it will mean something to others which will then affect us . . . for we are selfish beings at our core, and it all revolves around us until we learn compassion.)

Thus most of the time the greater act of compassion is to tell the truth rather than hiding it from those we care about. When we try to hide the truth from others feels we tell ourselves that it is because we're protecting them and so we feel righteous and good about it. But actually we are not - we are tormenting them, for those we are connected to and close to intuitively feel the truth anyway. Hiding it from them hurts them and denies them the basic mutual respect they could expect from us based on our connection or relationship.

Think of the times you have fail or choose not to tell a colleague about their poor performance or lack of skills at work because you don't want to hurt their feelings - and yet you know instinctively that your behaviors and stance betray your real opinion.

Think of the times when you fail or choose not to tell a friend that they are behaving stupidly, naively or behaving like a spoiled child - because you are fearful of hurting their feelings or worried that they will reject your rebuke and it will damage your friendship - and yet you know they can feel your disdain or annoyance because your friendship allows them intuition.

Think of the times you hide things from your partner, from your ex or a new girlfriend or boyfriend - that you're feeling frustrated, that you're with someone else now, that you're uncertain or insecure - all because you're trying to protect them or avoid from knowing something difficult or uncomfortable - but really it's about your comfort not theirs. They know, because they intuit, because they know you. So not telling them is not respecting them, causing them anxiety and hurt in the process.

When you have a truth you are keen to share - show it, don't tell it.

When you have a truth you are keen to hide - tell it, don't show it.

If your truth is positive you don't need to tell it - just trust the other person to see what you are showing. And remember that if they don't see it then it wouldn't make any difference to them anyway if you tell your truth or not.

And if you are hiding something from someone, chances are they will already know, feel or suspect it - so tell them the truth - as you are already showing it to them. Choose your words, your method and your time carefully to show your genuine respect and sensitivity - but don't delay.

In both cases truth requires bravery on your part for the benefit of the other person - when your truth is positive, you must be brave and trust that your truth is understood. When negative for the other person, you must be brave and face the lesser of two evils and show them your respect and care by communicating what is already known or half known. Put the other person out of their misery - and trust that you will not lose them because of it.

Don't be afraid of the truth, be compassionate about it.

Lessons in Courage & Compassion - Chiune Sugihara, Japanese Diplomat

I found this story while researching something today and was really inspired by it.

Chiune "Sempo" Sugihara certainly falls into the category of "unsung hero" for most of his life, but what is really inspiring is his courage and compassion.

He acted with honour, dignity, humility and did the right thing with great consequences for himself and ultimately major sacrifice.

An impressive story, it contains several lessons:

1. Don't be a burden to others
2. Take care of others
3. Don't expect rewards for your goodness

And as Chiune Sugihara was quoted as saying:

"Do what is right because it is right, and leave it alone."

Here is the story of Chuine Sugihara:

WHO WAS CHIUNE SUGIHARA?

For the last half century people have asked, 'Who was Chiune Sugihara?" They have also asked, 'Why did he risk his career, his family fortune, and the lives of his family to issue visas to Jewish refugees in Lithuania?" These are not easy questions to answer, and there may be no single set of answers that will satisfy our curiosity or inquiry.

Chiune (Sempo) Sugihara always did things his own way. He was born on January 1, 1900. He graduated from high school with top marks and his father insisted that he become a medical doctor. But Chiune's dream was to study literature and live abroad. Sugihara attended Tokyo's prestigious Waseda University to study English. He paid for his own education with part-time work as a longshoreman and tutor.

One day he saw an item in the classified ads. The Foreign Ministry was seeking people who wished to study abroad and might be interested in a diplomatic career. He passed the difficult entrance exam and was sent to the Japanese language institute in Harbin, China. He studied Russian and graduated with honors. He also converted to Greek Orthodox Christianity. While in Harbin he met and married a Caucasian woman. They were later divorced. The cosmopolitan nature of Harbin, China opened his eyes to how diverse and interesting the world was.

He then served with the Japanese controlled government in Manchuria, in northeastern China. He was later promoted to Vice Minister of the Foreign Affairs Department. He was soon in line to be the Minister of Foreign Affairs in Manchuria.

While in Manchuria he negotiated the purchase of the Russian-owned Manchurian railroad system by the Japanese. This saved the Japanese government millions of dollars, and infuriated the Russians.

Sugihara was disturbed by his government's policy and the cruel treatment of the Chinese by the Japanese government. He resigned his post in
protest in 1934.

In 1938 Sugihara was posted to the Japanese diplomatic office in Helsinki, Finland. With World War II looming on the horizon, the Japanese government sent Sugihara to Lithuania to open a one-man consulate in 1939. There he would report on Soviet and German war plans. Six months later, war broke out and the Soviet Union annexed Lithuania. The Soviets ordered all consulates to be closed. It was in this context that Sugihara was confronted with the requests of thousands of Polish Jews fleeing German-occupied Poland.


SUGIHARA, THE MAN
Sugihara's personal history and temperament may contain the key to why he defied his government's orders and issued the visas. Sugihara favored his mother's personality. He thought of himself as kind and nurturing and artistic. He was interested in foreign ideas, religion, philosophy and language. He wanted to travel the world and see everything there was, and experience the world. He had a strong sense of the value of all human life. His language skills show that he was always interested in learning more about other peoples.

Sugihara was a humble and understated man He was self-sacrificing, self-effacing and had a very good sense of humor. Yukiko, his wife, said he found it very difficult to discipline the children when they misbehaved. He never lost his temper.

Sugihara was also raised in the strict Japanese code of ethics of a turn-of-the century samurai family. The cardinal virtues of this society were oya koko (love of the family), kodomo no tamane (for the sake of the children), having gidi and on (duty and responsibility, or obligation to repay a debt), gaman (withholding of emotions on the surface), gambate (internal strength and resourcefulness), and haji no kakate (don't bring shame on the family). These virtues were strongly inculcated by Chiune's middle-class rural samurai family.

It took enormous courage for Sugihara to defy the order of his father to become a doctor, and instead follow his own academic path. It took courage to leave Japan and study overseas. It took a very modern liberal Japanese man to marry a Caucasian woman and convert to Christianity. It took even more courage to openly oppose the Japanese military policies of expansion in the 1930s.


Thus Sempo Sugihara was no ordinary Japanese man and may have been no ordinary man. At the time that he and his wife Yukiko thought of the plight of the Jewish refugees, he was haunted by the words of an old samurai maxim: "Even a hunter cannot kill a bird which flies to him for refuge."


Forty-five years after he signed the visas, Chiune was asked why he did it. He liked to give two reasons: "They were human beings and they needed help," he said. "I'm glad I found the strength to make the decision to give it to them." Sugihara was a religious man and believed in a universal god of all people. He was fond of saying, "I may have to disobey my government, but if I don't I would be disobeying God."


SUGIHARA'S CHOICE

Time began to run out for the refugees as Hitler tightened the net around Eastern Europe. The refugees came upon an idea which they presented to Sugihara. They discovered that the two Dutch colonial islands, Curacao and Surinam, situated in the Caribbean, did not require formal entrance visas, and the Dutch consul informed them that he would be willing to stamp their passports with a Dutch visa to that destination. Furthermore, the Dutch consul had received permission from his superior in Riga to issue such visas and he was willing to issue these visas to anyone who was willing to pay a fee.

To get to these two islands, one needed to pass through the Soviet Union. The Soviet consul, who was sympathetic to the plight of the refugees, agreed to let them pass on one condition: that in addition to the Dutch visa, they would also obtain a transit visa from the Japanese as they would have to pass through Japan on their way to Curacao or Surinam.

Sugihara had a difficult decision to make. He was a man who was brought up in the strict and traditional discipline of the Japanese. He was a career diplomat, who suddenly had to make a very difficult choice. On one hand, he was bound by the traditional obedience he had been taught all his life. On the other hand, he was a samurai who had been told to help those who were in need. He knew that if he defied the orders of his superiors, he would be fired and disgraced, and would probably never work for the Japanese government again. This would result in extreme financial hardship for his family in the future.

Chiune and his wife Yukiko Sugihara even feared for their lives in making this decision. They agreed that they had no choice in the matter. Mr. Sugihara said, "I may have to disobey my government, but if I don't, I would be disobeying God." Mr. Sugihara was a humble man and, when asked why he did it, he often replied: "I saw people in distress, and I was able to help them, so why shouldn't I?" Mrs. Sugihara remembered that "the refugee's eyes were so intense and desperate- especially the women and children. There were hundreds of people standing outside." Fifty-four years after their decision, Mrs. Sugihara said: "human life is very important, and being virtuous in life is important as well." This was a decision that would ultimately save the second largest number of Jews in World War II. They chose to help the thousands who thronged the gates of his consulate in Kaunas.

The choice faced by the Sugiharas was a moral dilemma that thousands of consuls all over the world faced every day. Few lost sleep in shutting the doors in Jewish faces. These consuls went strictly by the book, and in many cases, were even stricter in issuing visas than their governments required. Countless thousands could have been saved if other consuls had acted more like Sugihara. If there had been 2,000 consuls like Chiune Sugihara, a million Jewish children could have been saved from the ovens of Auschwitz.


VISAS FOR LIFE

For 29 days, from July 31 to August 28, 1940, Mr. and Mrs. Sugihara unflinchingly sat for endless hours signing visas with their own hands. Hour after hour, day after day, during three weeks, they wrote visas. They wrote over 300 visas a day, which would normally be more than one months work for the consul. Yukiko also helped him register these visas. At the end of the day, she would massage his fatigued hands. He did not even stop to eat. His wife supplied him with sandwiches. Sugihara chose not to lose a minute because people were standing in line in front of his consulate day and night for these visas. When some began climbing the fence to get in on the compound, he came out and calmed them down. He promised them that as long as there was a single person left, he would not abandon them.

After receiving their visas, the refugees lost no time in getting on the train that took them to Moscow, and by the trans-Siberian railroad to Vladivostok. From there, most of them continued to Kobe, Japan. They were allowed to stay in Kobe for several months. They were then sent to Shanghai, China. All of the Polish Jews who were issued visas survived in safety, under the protection of the Japanese government in Shanghai. They survived, thanks to the humanity and courage of Chiune and Yukiko Sugihara. The visas they issued turned out to be passes to the world of the living. When Sugihara had to leave Kaunas for his next post in Berlin, he handed over the visa stamp to a refugee, and many more Jews were granted life.

In 1945, the Japanese government unceremoniously dismissed Chiune Sugihara from the diplomatic service. His career as a diplomat was shattered. He had to start his life over. Sugihara was without a steady job for over a year. Once a rising star in the Japanese foreign service, Chiune Sugihara worked as a part time translator and interpreter. For the last two decades of his life, he worked as a manager for an export company with business in Moscow. This was his fate because he dared to save thousands of human beings from certain death.

Today, 50 years after the event, there may be 40,000 or more people who owe their lives to Chiune and Yukiko Sugihara. Two generations have come after the Sugihara survivors, and they owe their lives to the Sugiharas. All the survivors call him their savior, some consider him a holy man, and some think he was a saint. Yukiko Sugihara recalled that every time she and her husband had met or heard of people they had saved, they felt great satisfaction and happiness. They had no regrets.

After the war, Mr. Sugihara never mentioned or spoke to anyone about his extraordinary deeds. It was not until 1969 that Sugihara was found by a man whom he had helped to save. Soon, many others whom he had saved came forward and testified to the Yad Vashem (Holocaust Memorial) in Israel about his life-saving deeds. The Sugihara survivors sent in hundreds of testimonies on behalf of their savior. After gathering the testimonies from all over the world, the committee at the Yad Vashem realized the enormity of this man's self-sacrifice in saving Jews. Before his death, he received Israel's highest honor. In 1985, he was recognized as "Righteous Among the Nations" by the Yad Vashem Martyrs Remembrance Authority in Jerusalem. He was too ill to travel; his wife and son received the honor on his behalf. Further, a tree was planted in his name, and a park in Jerusalem was named in his honor.

He said that he was very happy with the honors. "I think that my decision was humanely correct."

The above text was written by Eric Saul and can be found at this site: http://www.eagleman.com/sugihara/

More on Sugihara at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chiune_Sugihara