The Hymn of Alexander Chaing If you compress ash hard enough, it becomes a diamond. But, long before the World Trade Centers became ash, this man was a jewel.

Mr. Chaing seemed to be one of those souls in life who make their corner of the world a better place with music, faith, love, and laughter. I'd have been honored to know him.

From the NYT's, Dec.5, 2001:

As teenagers, John and Grace Chiang had never slept in on weekends. Every Saturday morning at 7 a.m., their father, Alex Chiang, would sing hymns at the top of his voice in the kitchen to wake them and his wife, Sunny. If no one stirred after 10 minutes, he would walk into each bedroom to perform.

"We would say, 'Get out, Dad,' and he would only try to sing louder and louder until we got up," John said. "I complained about it all the time. Now I miss it."

Alex Chiang, 51, and his family traveled from their home in New City, N.Y., to Franklin Park, N.J., every Saturday to meet with other members of the nondenominational church that he helped found more than a decade ago. The Chiangs would stay the night with others and return home on Sunday evening. "He's a very faithful person," his wife said.

Mr. Chiang, a computer specialist at Marsh & McLennan, treated other church members with such kindness, said Paul Du, a close friend, that more than 1,200 people came to his memorial service in October.

After John Chiang, 22, moved into a sparsely furnished Manhattan apartment as a young banker, he seldom visited his parents. "So on Labor Day weekend, my dad enticed me home by promising that he would bring me to Ikea," John said. "We bought a lot of heavy stuff. He dropped me off in my apartment, and then he was gone." That was the last he saw of his father...

There's a beautiful square on the 9/11 quilt here, with the caption "singing in heaven ..."

I'll leave with an image of a dark pink rose, which is symbolic of thankfulness.

Above image is from Meilland International.

** This entry has been part of the 2996 Project. We will never forget. **

  ¶ 8:00 AM