Alfonso

April 18, 2020

Sometimes I have regretted spending my youth in a crazy Japanese religion. But when I remember comrades like Alfonso, I have to admit that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

When I first met Alfonso Generalao in the Soka Gakkai in 1969, that organization’s U.S. branch was comprised mostly of Japanese immigrant women, American ex-military service members (mainly sailors), and young hippies and students. We were joined in the 1970’s by large numbers of African Americans, which was and is a unique demographic among Buddhist sects.

We were “America’s Proud Gakkai,” as one of our songs boasted, out to save the world by remaking it in our Japanese image. As a white 17 year old high school student in suburban Lafayette CA, I met Alfonso, a Mexican/Filipino American and an Oakland warehouseman who was several years older than me and who I learned was now to be my leader in the Young Men’s Division. We could hardly have been more different, but we quickly bonded in our quest to become the equivalent of good Buddhist boy scouts.

As a child, Alfonso worked with his Mexican bracero father in the fields as a farmworker, and later served (I think) in the U.S. Air Force. Strong and muscular, he became a skilled martial artist, and then married his German wife Doris and joined the Soka Gakkai in the 1960’s. He later told our mutual friend Montgomery that he never felt accepted by either the Mexicans or Filipinos, but he did find a home in the multicultural Soka Gakkai.

Alfonso was a humble soul – humble, yet bright. Not intellectually bright, but heart bright. What I remember most about him was his incredible warmth and ready laugh. And his patience. He would spend hours and hours listening to his religious subordinates pour out their troubles to him, then offering them his words of encouragement. He once told me that we might be poor now, eating peanut butter sandwiches and driving junk cars, but in 20 years our Buddhist practice would create such good fortune that we would be eating steak and riding around in limousines. I had no desire to be driven in a limo, though that did come true years later (see my personal essay Limousine Love elsewhere on this website).

Peanut butter sandwiches and steaks remind me of a small gesture by Alfonso that meant the world to me. Due to my own foolish choices and poor judgement, I was hungry for most of 1974. I had a little food to eat every day, but it was never enough, and, skinny to begin with, I gradually lost weight and became weak, sickly, and depressed. But I told no one, and kept up a good front, because I had to set a good example of confidence and success for my fellow Gakkai members. One evening after a senior leader meeting Alfonso told me to meet him at the Denny’s restaurant in Emeryville. I had no money, and didn’t want to go, but he insisted. When it came time to order, I said I wasn’t hungry – water would be fine. Surprised, he looked at me, and then encouraged me to eat something. I politely declined. I don’t remember whether I failed to make eye contact with him, or what gave me away, but somehow it dawned on him that I was lying about not being hungry. He ordered a hamburger for each of us, and told me that it was his treat. That was one of the best hamburgers I’ve ever had.

Sometime after that, he invited me to dinner with him and Doris at their house in Oakland.

I eventually outgrew Soka Gakkai. Alfonso never did. But I did not outgrow Alfonso, and I never forgot his multiple kindnesses to me.

I didn’t see him for over 30 years. And then, about five years ago, I ran into him at a memorial service for one of our old comrades. After catching up, I told him how much I appreciated his treating me to dinner at Denny’s and at his home. He didn’t remember either event, but smiled warmly as always.

Yesterday I learned that Alfonso died this week of Alzheimer’s disease.

I am so glad that I got to thank him for his friendship and his generosity. I may have been better educated than him, but Alfonso was wiser and kinder than I am. And he taught me, through his example, what it means to be a true human being.