A Father’s Day Poem for My Dad, the Manong, As Trump Shows His Wares and Americans say, “No Kings.”

by Emil Amok Guillermo

On my screen, Donald Trump stood watching his military toys on parade in DC. Behind him, on his left, was his co-conspirator in the Florida documents case, his closest Asian American ally from Guam, Walt Nauta. The retired Navy valet turned Trump’s body man could have been every Asian American Trump supporter. His loyalty to Trump is greater than his loyalty to the nation.

Made me wonder what if that case had gone to trial? By winning an election, the case conveniently went away for Trump and Nauta.

Now, Trump has used his power to shape America to his liking. He’s monetized America, so it works well for him. Just not all that well for so many Americans.

That’s why it’s also No Kings Day for all those who love democracy but hate the creeping authoritarianism in America under Trump. In a hopeful sign,  there were millions of people who assembled in cities large and small from coast to coast. They were people who care about basic American values like free speech and non-violent protest.  

That was the real show this weekend: America is still intact and going strong. 

They were the patriots of June 14, Flag Day. 

Now, if only we had a suitable leader who doesn’t see his military as pawns.

It was the Army’s 250th birthday, important, sure, but a marching/tank show like the kind they do in North Korea, China, and Russia? 

The world’s leading democracy is supposed to be above that. This style of parade is only for those who like to play with toy tanks and marching Boy Barbies, GI Joes.

Maybe Trump wanted it for his 79th birthday to test all those he’s compelled to genuflect at the mere mention of his name.

Hard to tell if the “birthday parade/ show of force”  was intended to send a chill among protestors here, or to show the world that Trump is a man with a big, big military.

It’s all about inducing fear to get what you want. 

UGLY MURDEROUS POLITICS

The day began shockingly with the assassination of the Speaker of the Minnesota legislature and her husband, and the near fatal shooting of another state legislator and his spouse. The suspect got away, but left a manifesto which leads police to say the shootings were politically motivated.It was an assassination on a local level.

But this is America now, where public discourse has degenerated into power plays ending with deadly shows of force, not logic or consensus.

The Minnesota deaths were a constant reminder of how America has changed in the Trump era. When the president does unlawful things and makes prosecutors come after him in a court of law, he serves as a model for public lawlessness.

The global picture is also worse than ever. The war in Ukraine started by Trump’s Russian friends has not ended on day one. The global trade war Trump started with his beloved tariffs continues.  And now Israel and Iran are fighting a new forever war.  And Trump wants to broker the peace? Remember: Trump’s the one who pulled the U.S. out of the Iran nuclear deal years ago because it was Obama’s deal. Now, if he negotiates, he’ll be glad to get the deal he walked away from.

The woes of a master deal maker who is not a master deal maker. If I were Trump, I’d listen hard to the message of the No Kings protestors.

TRUMP’S B’DAY, MY DAD’S DEATH DAY

But for me, the great coincidence of June 14th is how it’s also the day my father died, 47 years ago just before Father’s Day.

Willie Guillermo’s story is as quintessentially American Filipino as it gets, the tale of the first large group of Filipinos to come to the U.S. in the 1920s, known as the “manongs.” I turned the essay I first wrote, and read when I was the host of “All Things Considered” in 1989. Here is the 2025 version as a poem.

My Father’s Day 

By Emil Guillermo ©2025 all rights reserved.

The historical black and white picture 

shows a Filipino man

holding a box of vegetables and fruit.

The Box, has a label depicting the fields, 

with a name draped over it all 

proclaiming RIPON, 

a town in the Central Valley.  

That was not my father.

Another Filipino. 

But you know what they say.

My dad was 

Born under the American flag,

in a colonized Philippines,

The first colony of the imperial U.S.

My dad was not 

A citizen, but still an American.

Legally undocumented.

A “national” they called him,

A euphemism indicating he was

Owned by the U.S. 

like a slave but no chains, 

 chains were in his head.

He must have come from the depths if 

America was his best option

During the depression, 1928.

One  of 30,000 Filipinos,  a

Man to woman ratio of 14-1.

It was a labor force, not a family force.   

If things were normal, 

maybe he would have started a family in a year

Or two. 1930?

But then I’d be  95 right now.

Not pretty. Not normal.

Anti-miscegenation laws prevented

Intermarriage. 

Taking white jobs was bad enough.

But not white women.

Others went  to the valley to work

But not dad 

Who stayed  in San Francisco to cook, 

lived with other Filipino men 6,7,8 to a room. 

America was still better than the Philippines.

That’s Even if Filipino men dancing with white women 

Caused 

Riots in Stockton,

Lynchings in Lodi

A shooting death in Watsonville.

Got so bad that Filipinos were asked to self-deport. 

Some went back.

The majority stuck it out here.

After nearly 30 years, my father met a rare Filipina,

And I was born.

We never talked much, Dad and I.

I was too American.

He was too Filipino.

I went to the Pop Warner banquet by myself.

I was MVP. Running back. 

Just not an MVP son. 

It was only when I went east to college that 

I learned the history.

After graduation, my father and I went

To see the Giants play.

He took me once to see Willie Mays.

Now Vida Blue made us cheer.

The Giants won,

And we went home 

with pennant fever.

“they will go all the way now,” Dad said.

But they didn’t. And he didn’t.

Hours after the game, he passed. 

A happy day in an imperfect life.

He died on Flag Day June 14.

If he were alive today, he’d think that big parade 

In Washington, DC was for him.

Maybe it was.

My Dad, once a  colonized Filipino, 

so proud to be an American,

Of course, an American in its purest form:

freedom, equality, 

and no kings.

The Giants lost to the Dodgers on Saturday, the 14th. Maybe they’ll come back today.

Happy Father’s Day, everyone. 

Emil Guillermo is a journalist, commentator, humorist, and a poet laureate in California’s Central Valley.  He’s written a weekly column on Asian America since 1995. 

See Emil read his poem on his micro-talk show on YouTube.

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