Roses are red
Violets are blue
Loving us is what you do
Without you we wouldn't survive
Thank God we're alive
Because we still have you in our hearts
Roses are red
Violets are blue
You'll live in our memories
Till the very end
Sherman was a familiar face among our circle of lunch buddies. He's always shared with us interesting and inspirational stories. We can tell he's very involved in the community affairs. Just ask YingYing, Jane, Ganesh, Steve, and Mehul. Everyone would agree on one thing, "Sherman cares."
Sherman and I met in a choir when we were college students back in Taiwan. I came to the USA after my military service and lost contact with the majority of the choir members, including Sherman. It was 1992 when our choir friend JC came visiting the states and called me from Sherman’s home that got us re-connected.
Out of the 50-60 choir members, I really couldn’t remember too many names and faces now. Sherman was one of the exceptions. Frankly, he and I were not very close during our choir days, but after so many years I still have a clear impression of this tall handsome young man with mild manners and incredible art talent. I remember that a few times during the short recess of our practices, Sherman was asked by some people to quick sketch portraits of them. In just a small number of strokes, he was able to capture and amplify the unique facial characteristics of the target persons. (I don’t think his amazing drawings were popular among girls, though, because they wanted to look pretty, not unique. :-) )
Over the years after we found each other again, we had only had a brief phone call and exchanged short emails occasionally. He always sounded positive, even in the last couple of years when his health went downward. A regret that I have is that we had not met each other in person again.
Truly, the significance of a life is not measured by its length, rather by its impact on people. Sherman had touched the souls of many people. His body may be gone, but his spirit will stay in many hearts. He will be remembered.
I met Sherman years ago before he was married and still living in Manhattan. I had gone there to meet my future husband, Ben, Sherman's longtime friend from Taiwan. Sherman lived in a tiny apartment on 32nd Street and let us stay there for a weekend. He was tall, thin, and wore a navy blue beret with a long wool coat. He smiled endlessly as he and Ben conversed in Chinese mostly about life in the US as foreigners. I didn't understand much of what they said but could sense their deep bond and Sherman's kindness. One afternoon, Sherman came back to the apartment with a three foot high ceramic vase and found a place for it in his small living space, among all the other objects he liked to collect. He continued to collect and create idiosyncratic objects throughout his life and later told me that he hoped that by doing so he could inspire his children to see the beauty in all that surrounds them.
That weekend we went ice skating in Central Park on New Year's Day, 1988, which is one of my most favorite memories. Thank you, Sherman, for letting me glimpse into your most generous spirit. May God Bless you, Paula, Matt, & Ariel always.
