Tribute to my Father on his BIRTHDAY!

My parents with their pride and joy, Willis Jr.



Gustaf, My Dad, Me and my Mom- Living the "American Dream". Sunday morning in front of his first home in Foster City, CA. Then the owner of a successful business, Bishop of the Foster City 1st Ward (first Tongan ward formed in the U.S.), loving Husband and Father of four keiki's (at the time).



My father as a child in Va'vau. Dressed for his first day of primary school.



Dating my Mom in Honolulu, at the 'Society of Seven' show.



Daddy in Manila, Philippines.



My parents entering the reception hall on their wedding day.

I actually put this in as one of my "tag" items but realized that it doesn't say much about me. So I've highlighted my dad on a separate entry. I don't know if he'll ever get on here, but more importantly I want my children to know how special 'Papa Lui' is to me.

He was born on Valentines Day in 1951 which makes him a YOUNG fifty-seven years. He was the only child born to Toa'ila Tui'ile'ila and Lihati Lui 'Unga. Shortly after he was born they divorced, very rare in the islands back then. He has atleast 17 (?) half- siblings. He was raised in a poor village in Ha'apai and was shuffled between both parents being raised primarily by his maternal grandmother Veisinia Tui'ile'ila. He often recounts the struggles he had as a child. The famous "balloon for christmas" story, he always shares,esspecially when we begin to sound ungrateful. I wasn't going to share but I guess for posterity sake I will.

He must've been around 4-5 years old. His parents were overseas with their families and had left my father in the care of his grandmother. My great grandmother was a very poor woman. She wasn't a member of the church but supported and even pushed my father to attend his father's church (The LDS church). Christmas morning all the primary children were invited to attend an activity held in the chapel nearby. My great-grandmother knew that she had very little to offer my father and had been working eagerly weeks prior to get her copra crops ready for sale at the dock. The head farmer notice my great-grandmothers crop and after quick inspection said, "Vei, your copra is still raw". In those days copra had to dry in drying houses for several days before it could be sold and shipped. He then told her if she could find at least one piece of dry copra, he would then buy her entire crop (an entire years salary). She looked and looked but could not find one piece of dried copra. They gathered all their copra and loaded them back into their borrowed cart. My father recalls her collapsing on an old stump near the dock. Exhausted she pulled out from her tu'upenu 20 seniti (cents) and handed it to my father. She had been saving it for her christmas tobacco but gave it to my father instead and instructed him to run to the BP station and buy something for the primary party. My father told his grandmother not to worry, that he would attend the festivities and just play with the other children, but she insisted. He was so excited! He eagerly examined what he could purchase with the funds and found that he had just enough to buy a huge, bright red balloon! It was the best gift he could have ever imagined! His grandmother must've enjoyed watching my father skip down the dirt road to the chapel. He ran around the cultural hall with his balloon inflated and enjoyed the cheers from the other children. His friends wanting to join him in the fun, so he let them take turns. When the last of his friends had a chance, he blew up the balloon when suddenly it POPPED! My father looked at the remains, then with tears in his eyes proceeded to kneel down and pick up what was left on the floor. He sat on the chair for a minute then realizing the rubber pieces were big enough, made 10 small balloons. He tied them together and got up again to join in the fun. The adults laughed saying ,"Lui never gives up!". He played for a while then slowly, one by one each of his smaller balloons popped. He was devastated! The room continued to buzz as the other children played with their toys. My father, with the balloon remains in his hands, slowly made his way back down the dusty road to his grandmother. His grandmother was a very stern woman and wouldn't stand to have a cry baby... but that day she simply held my father in her lap, rocking him back and forth and softly cried with him as he mourned the loss of his treasured gift.

If I had to sum up his life with a title, it would be simply, "The man NEVER gives up!".

My Father is one of my HEROS! He isn't perfect, but to me, he is the PERFECT example of perserverance and physical and spiritual strength. He kept all six of us children together when my mother passed and refused to separate us, even if it may have been easier . I will be eternally grateful to him for that. We are all extremely close to one another and I attribute that to him. He started a yearly tradition that we've kept up, even though he wasn't always able to attend. We all gather together once a year for a family trip. He taught us the importance of family. He taught us the importance of scripture study, fasting, prayer, faith and temple attendance. He taught us the importance of unconditional love. He taught us to dream the impossible. He's overcome adversity and trial and is still not discouraged. He survives and never gives up on his family and his dreams. He is one of the GREATEST men I know! Happy Birthday Dad!