Mim, her husband Maning, an unemployed ship's engineer, and her two daughters comprised the household we joined. Shirley, the two boys, and I made it a fairly large household. Mim and Maning were low in money and she was taking in sewing to tide them over. I helped liberally with the household expenses.

     July passed, then August, and September. Still no job. There were so many men ahead of me on the shipping list. I began to economize. I walked several miles from where we lived to the union hall to save ten cents car fare. October came. Shirley and I were down to our last hundred dollars. Mim never had more than ten dollars at one time. Still no job. There was not even the prospect of a job. I became frantic and decided to apply for relief work in the WPA. It paid $17.50 every two weeks. I applied on a Friday and was accepted. I was to start work on Monday.

     Then, the miracle happened. On Saturday morning, I stuck half of our last hundred dollars in my pocket leaving the other fifty dollars with Shirley and left the house for my daily walk to the union hall. The long walk took me from Roman Street, where we lived, to Rampart, then Canal to Chopatoulas, near the waterfront where the union hall was. The further I walked, the heavier my heart became. As I neared Rampart Street, my depression was almost too much to bear. To many people, WPA work though it was legitimate and honest had a degrading connotation. I was one of those people. My pride, my biggest handicap, caused me to feel that way. Now, here I was, having to work for WPA. As I neared Canal Street, I was so depressed with this prospect that I felt I must go to a church and pray. Any church no matter what denomination it was would do. I needed to pray. And, I needed to be in a church.

     I found one just two blocks off Canal. A Catholic church. When I entered and saw the candles burning, I was filled with memories of my parents and family in the Philippines and the security I had enjoyed as a little boy. All of them were dead now. I felt so alone. Sadness overwhelmed me. I wept uncontrollably and unashamedly as I poured out my needs to God.

     Finally, peace came. My heavy burden was lifted. My courage and spirits were lifted. My pride was gone. I did not mind if I had to work for WPA. I found out later that I had been in the Church of St. Jude, the Patron Saint of the unfortunates.

     When I arrived at the union hall, it was already full of men hoping for work. They were just lounging around, playing cards or dominoes. Jobs were called on the hour. No jobs were called after four except in an emergency. Four o'clock came, the last hour for calling jobs, and the men began to leave. A few lingered to finish their card and domino games.

     The janitor, an old shipmate, was cleaning up and I stayed to help him, for old time's sake. At ten after four, the phone rang. It was an emergency call for a chief steward on the oil tanker, SS E.R. Kemp. She was ready to sail. The captain, who called for the job, said that the men were on the dock ready to let go the lines. The man who took the job must go directly to the ship from the union hall. I was the only chief steward in the hall.

     I did not even make a phone call to Shirley, but gave Mim's phone number to one of the Filipinos playing cards, asking him to call Shirley and tell her about my good luck. I took a taxi to the ship, which was waiting for me. Only two lines were holding the ship to the dock. A worker was standing ready to let them go. Before I could give the captain my job assignment from the union, the ship was on its way.

     This was a miracle and a turning point in my life. From that moment on, I have known that my guardian angel was watching over me.