Almost thirty-something years ago, I had the joy and pleasure of mentoring the academic life of bubbly and innocent teen girls and boys at one prestigious learning institution. I did not think ahead of what would become of them; I only knew then that I must ensure their learning was meaningful. I might have thought some about positively impacting their young lives so that they grew in preparing for their own independent lives and careers. I am sure today that I never thought of what might become of them in the near or long future. I was definitely surprised today, at an impromptu gathering, and in very joyful terms, how they maneuvered their paths and made choices both good and bad; I was touched tremendously by how they came out to be fine young women and men now serving in all areas of life as nurses, teachers, engineers, media reporters, doctors, engineers, and as spouses and parents or singly walking and touching other people's lives everywhere! Life does not predict the path it would take. It simply unfolds heartaches and joys!
Monday, May 25, 2015
Awakening
50 ...
Almost thirty-something years ago, I had the joy and pleasure of mentoring the academic life of bubbly and innocent teen girls and boys at one prestigious learning institution. I did not think ahead of what would become of them; I only knew then that I must ensure their learning was meaningful. I might have thought some about positively impacting their young lives so that they grew in preparing for their own independent lives and careers. I am sure today that I never thought of what might become of them in the near or long future. I was definitely surprised today, at an impromptu gathering, and in very joyful terms, how they maneuvered their paths and made choices both good and bad; I was touched tremendously by how they came out to be fine young women and men now serving in all areas of life as nurses, teachers, engineers, media reporters, doctors, engineers, and as spouses and parents or singly walking and touching other people's lives everywhere! Life does not predict the path it would take. It simply unfolds heartaches and joys!
Almost thirty-something years ago, I had the joy and pleasure of mentoring the academic life of bubbly and innocent teen girls and boys at one prestigious learning institution. I did not think ahead of what would become of them; I only knew then that I must ensure their learning was meaningful. I might have thought some about positively impacting their young lives so that they grew in preparing for their own independent lives and careers. I am sure today that I never thought of what might become of them in the near or long future. I was definitely surprised today, at an impromptu gathering, and in very joyful terms, how they maneuvered their paths and made choices both good and bad; I was touched tremendously by how they came out to be fine young women and men now serving in all areas of life as nurses, teachers, engineers, media reporters, doctors, engineers, and as spouses and parents or singly walking and touching other people's lives everywhere! Life does not predict the path it would take. It simply unfolds heartaches and joys!
Life Fleets
49 ...
"I will go to Bicutan and visit with Felix on Monday!" My almost 70 year-old 'temp ward' told me this morning that is what he would do on Monday. He did not bother to ask. He just out right announced that would just be so. There is no surprise about his pronouncement; it was a typical expression, so I had learned through the years of my coming and going, watching about and listening to him emotionally behave as a mentally-challenged person. I murmured silently, "Where do you suppose you would get the transport means to get where you wanted to go?" I remained silent for a minute or so, and then I told him cousin Felix no longer resided where he thought he did. I told him cousin Felix had a stroke and his wife had taken him to Laguna somewhere, and we did not know his exact residential address. He was quiet for a little while, but then he blurted he would instead go to BF Resort and visit with acquaintances there. He said as well it would be his birthday come Monday, the 25th, so that was what he wanted to do. He even asked me what I would give him for his birthday present. I stayed muted. I just listened to his wishful verbalizing. Again, I wondered though if he expected that I find and dole out the monetary means required to get from point A to B. Abi, my biological parents' passed along responsibility, nowadays live from hand-to-mouth subsistence at the mercy of siblings and relatives. How he was reduced from a once well-cared for boy, to that of a much older adult now in lowly and marginalized situation, boggled me. What I perfectly knew was I did not want the burden, or joys, of having to care for him as he waits out his demise.
"I will go to Bicutan and visit with Felix on Monday!" My almost 70 year-old 'temp ward' told me this morning that is what he would do on Monday. He did not bother to ask. He just out right announced that would just be so. There is no surprise about his pronouncement; it was a typical expression, so I had learned through the years of my coming and going, watching about and listening to him emotionally behave as a mentally-challenged person. I murmured silently, "Where do you suppose you would get the transport means to get where you wanted to go?" I remained silent for a minute or so, and then I told him cousin Felix no longer resided where he thought he did. I told him cousin Felix had a stroke and his wife had taken him to Laguna somewhere, and we did not know his exact residential address. He was quiet for a little while, but then he blurted he would instead go to BF Resort and visit with acquaintances there. He said as well it would be his birthday come Monday, the 25th, so that was what he wanted to do. He even asked me what I would give him for his birthday present. I stayed muted. I just listened to his wishful verbalizing. Again, I wondered though if he expected that I find and dole out the monetary means required to get from point A to B. Abi, my biological parents' passed along responsibility, nowadays live from hand-to-mouth subsistence at the mercy of siblings and relatives. How he was reduced from a once well-cared for boy, to that of a much older adult now in lowly and marginalized situation, boggled me. What I perfectly knew was I did not want the burden, or joys, of having to care for him as he waits out his demise.
Defeat?
48 ...
I just sat there and let my sister lecture me about Mother's need for privacy, for a place of her own in which she could be comfortably settled to do whatever she wished. The drawback is that it would have to be at my place, and at my expense, just as it had been for more than twenty-from vie years or so. I let her litany of rationalization, and her so called expert opinion of emotional scheme of things affecting Mother's psychological climate, and her tenable transitional living situation at another sibling's home, dominate the conversational plot. Why did I not verbalize my own thoughts or just threw at her my built-up, bottled and erupting turmoil over seemingly unending charge of Mother's care over the years? Why did I not just throw at her that I am fed up with being left out to dry by seven other siblings? I wanted to tell her that if she were so concerned about Mother's personal space and privacy attended, she could as well take her in her own home. I should've, but didn't. I was not ready for the trigger it might inject on her equally fragile internal weather. I, in return, felt uneasily frozen over my numbness!
I just sat there and let my sister lecture me about Mother's need for privacy, for a place of her own in which she could be comfortably settled to do whatever she wished. The drawback is that it would have to be at my place, and at my expense, just as it had been for more than twenty-from vie years or so. I let her litany of rationalization, and her so called expert opinion of emotional scheme of things affecting Mother's psychological climate, and her tenable transitional living situation at another sibling's home, dominate the conversational plot. Why did I not verbalize my own thoughts or just threw at her my built-up, bottled and erupting turmoil over seemingly unending charge of Mother's care over the years? Why did I not just throw at her that I am fed up with being left out to dry by seven other siblings? I wanted to tell her that if she were so concerned about Mother's personal space and privacy attended, she could as well take her in her own home. I should've, but didn't. I was not ready for the trigger it might inject on her equally fragile internal weather. I, in return, felt uneasily frozen over my numbness!
No Rice?
47 ...
I asked Abi, my adopted brother, if he had made rice for dinner yet. He replied, "There was none to make!" None to make? No rice? No staple food for dinner? I could just tell from the sour look on his face that his bafflement was much more intense than mine. He could not believe either that supper would have to be postponed or altogether missed! For him, meal at the table, though laden with bread, potatoes, scrumptious other dishes and all sorts of dessert, is totally non-existent without freshly made rice!
I asked Abi, my adopted brother, if he had made rice for dinner yet. He replied, "There was none to make!" None to make? No rice? No staple food for dinner? I could just tell from the sour look on his face that his bafflement was much more intense than mine. He could not believe either that supper would have to be postponed or altogether missed! For him, meal at the table, though laden with bread, potatoes, scrumptious other dishes and all sorts of dessert, is totally non-existent without freshly made rice!
Obsolete
46 ...
You realize that your 21st century communication lifeline from another cultural world is expensive to sustain in the world you presently live. What do you do? Revert to a much older lifeline, a non-Android phone, of course. Frustration begins to build up quickly, you find out. You keep touching whatever icons there are in the gadget, but nothing moves. You discover that you must work buttons and re-learn operating that 'old thing' to get a thought, a message, a piece of information to someone. And then, more frustrations build up. You couldn't make sense of head or tail to get the thing to make meaningful sense because it is automatically pushing words out from its bank and making it appear on your message window. Not only is it doing that, but it is also underlining every letter you dictate to it, or so you think it is doing, and it is insisting to use capital letters which you abhor. How does this gadget work? It makes a nincompoop out of me!
You realize that your 21st century communication lifeline from another cultural world is expensive to sustain in the world you presently live. What do you do? Revert to a much older lifeline, a non-Android phone, of course. Frustration begins to build up quickly, you find out. You keep touching whatever icons there are in the gadget, but nothing moves. You discover that you must work buttons and re-learn operating that 'old thing' to get a thought, a message, a piece of information to someone. And then, more frustrations build up. You couldn't make sense of head or tail to get the thing to make meaningful sense because it is automatically pushing words out from its bank and making it appear on your message window. Not only is it doing that, but it is also underlining every letter you dictate to it, or so you think it is doing, and it is insisting to use capital letters which you abhor. How does this gadget work? It makes a nincompoop out of me!
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Filth
45 ...
You enjoy the fruit of your sweat, at least for a day or so, and then you repeat tidying the spaces all over again. You were skeptical in the beginning about that dust build-up everyone says is far different from the one you normally experience down the countryside. You thought everyone else, but you, exaggerated the mounting dust situation. You had to painfully go through the tiresome clean-up. Day after day, you sweep up and dust the almost never ending coming and going of stealthy powder-like curse of nature. Like snowfall taking over the lay of the land, dust blankets everything that exists. There is no need to whine about its presence. Clean it up as many times you can, or live in filth!
You enjoy the fruit of your sweat, at least for a day or so, and then you repeat tidying the spaces all over again. You were skeptical in the beginning about that dust build-up everyone says is far different from the one you normally experience down the countryside. You thought everyone else, but you, exaggerated the mounting dust situation. You had to painfully go through the tiresome clean-up. Day after day, you sweep up and dust the almost never ending coming and going of stealthy powder-like curse of nature. Like snowfall taking over the lay of the land, dust blankets everything that exists. There is no need to whine about its presence. Clean it up as many times you can, or live in filth!
Shock
44 ...
The old, but operating ceiling fan finally claims your fingers. You are fortunate that it just banged two of them instead of your entire hand or arm getting whacked ferociously by its blades. You didn't see it coming, did you? You were over confident that always, you would be able to dodge its circling hands. You could get away from them, so you thought, and still bask in the little lukewarm air it braggingly pushes to create a mirage of comfort. You were dead wrong! Ceiling fan blades, are not friendly at all, especially when they are quite close to the top bed bunk you call your sanctuary. It wasn't accident-free, you find out, the sorry, painful way.
The old, but operating ceiling fan finally claims your fingers. You are fortunate that it just banged two of them instead of your entire hand or arm getting whacked ferociously by its blades. You didn't see it coming, did you? You were over confident that always, you would be able to dodge its circling hands. You could get away from them, so you thought, and still bask in the little lukewarm air it braggingly pushes to create a mirage of comfort. You were dead wrong! Ceiling fan blades, are not friendly at all, especially when they are quite close to the top bed bunk you call your sanctuary. It wasn't accident-free, you find out, the sorry, painful way.
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