Too Focused for Fear

My crucial moment, I felt, was fast approaching—in fact, it was already upon me. Through lionlike daimoku, I realized that if I did not take a stand, no one would. I formed a tenant’s council to bring the residents together.

Something to know: I volunteer weekly at a local TV news station, taking calls from folks about things they’ve bought that broke down—a fridge or stove, maybe—that they’re having trouble getting fixed or reimbursed. In any case, last year the station held a luncheon for the volunteers, where we all got to talking. One woman mentioned that she lived in a rundown building, and I told her so was I. The reporter beside her leaned forward: “Really?” So I told her how it was.

Days later, I got a call from one of the reporters asking could he come by and would I show him around. “Just me,” he promised, “in a little car with a little camera.” So I told him alright he could.

Touring the building, I could see he was appalled. Then we sat and filmed our interview, which aired the same week. This caused a stir among my neighbors, some of whom were scared, but most of whom were pleased and even proud, playing starstruck and teasing me for autographs. Though I didn’t know it yet, the news piece was causing a stir outside our building, too. 

Things began moving quickly: we acquired a free attorney who recommended us to a tenants advocacy group consisting of a handful of passionate young people. With their encouragement, residents who’d silently endured injustice began speaking up. Perhaps because I’m tenants council president, one young man from the group stuck by me, and as we went around flyering the halls, my instincts told me: Marguerite, share Buddhism with him! I did and discovered a very nice thing: What he says he’ll do, he does. He came to Soka 2030 and began chanting and studying, first with me, then on his own. I prayed more deeply than ever to show actual proof amid chaos. 

Wherever I went, my prayer kept me smiling. Besides, I had things to look forward to—twice a week Pokeno in the activity rooms and Friday night Oldies But Goodies in the auditorium. One lady, Grace, is 97 years old, loves B.B. King and always asks for him. And when the DJ plays B.B., she gets out there and does her thing, a dance we call the Mrs. Gracie. And I’d go around taking the hands of those who couldn’t get on their feet, dancing with them where they sat. Despite everything, we all looked forward to this.

Court proceedings began around springtime, and it became clear to the judge that basic standards were being neglected. Yet each time we went to court, we came home, not to improvement but retaliation. The mailroom was the first to be locked, latched with a keypad and its hours reduced. The washer rooms followed, and then everything at once: the side rooms, auditorium, cafeteria—locked. No more Pokeno, no more dancing. At least, that’s what we were expected to accept. 

To my daily prayers I added another passage of the Daishonin’s: “Employ the strategy of the Lotus Sutra before any other. … A coward cannot have any of his prayers answered” (“The Strategy of the Lotus Sutra,” WND-1, 1001).

We moved Pokeno to the lobby and kept playing, only to find it cleared the following week of tables and chairs. I took one look and declared that we were going to a place called Lowe’s, and we piled in my car and came back with a little foldout table we set in the lobby and circled around, each on a chair we’d fetched from our rooms. I was determined to show to everyone—management and neighbors alike—that we were not intimidated, and we would have our fun. 

In August, the case was settled and the building bought by the city. As such, I had the opportunity to speak to the city council. I chanted fiercely beforehand, thinking of my friends and asking myself, What would Ikeda Sensei say? When it came time for me to speak, I just spoke from my heart: “Seniors are precious, and we and others put you in those seats.” I didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not applause. But there it was, a standing ovation, everyone on their feet.

Today, we have new and respectful management. They’re renovating top-to-bottom. I’ll need to move—we all will, and though we’ll keep in touch, it won’t be the same. 

I’m excited, though, looking to the future, to the youth. Speaking of which, the young man I mentioned is still studying, still chanting! And Grace turns 98 years young this month. We’re having the DJ back to celebrate. High time we had ourselves a dance—you really can’t be afraid while dancing. Not when B.B. plays and you’re with your friends and Grace is doing the Ms. Gracie.

March 14, 2025 World Tribune, p. 5