Living with the Enemy

Some people adjust pretty well to situations. Some, like me, not as well. 

I visited my office early this week to pick up a delivery. For the past two years, I’ve only been there three or four times because there was no reason for me to go. My team and I have been working from home since the pandemic.

The item I was supposed to pick up was left with the guard at the lobby of the building. Upon entering, he immediately recognized me despite wearing a baseball cap and a face mask. Only my eyes, their accompanying bags and a bit of wrinkled skin were visible. And without asking, he said that my item has been taken upstairs to my office.

It appears that Kuya guard has responded well to the call of the times. He may have been forced by the circumstances to make his job easier and safer, his adaption to the pandemic protocols, for me, is remarkable. 

I, on the other hand, have not. In one mall project walk-thru, I hardly recognized those who approached me. I cheated by looking at their IDs hanging around their necks. “Oh, she looked different without a mouth and a nose,” I kept arguing to myself. The eyes and sometimes the hair were merely pieces of a mental puzzle I had to put together. They weren’t faces. At my age, it’s already a big challenge to match faces with names. Let alone ninja covers. Shish kebab!

Koreans and Japanese have started using transparent masks that reveal the mouth and when they talk or laugh, the teeth, too. I have seen them on TV. Yay, more context clues! These, together with a person’s vertical and horizontal measure, voice pitch, and fashion style, maybe I’ll get better at profiling.

Like it or not, I need to adapt as well as our building guard did. I have a feeling this enemy ain’t leaving ’til all major pharmas have made their ten-year quota. 

Living with this unseen enemy, just about time.

Cheers!

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Age Factors

One. I am one happy person.

Two. There were two of us when I was born. With my twin brother, I felt I was never alone.

Thirty-one. Written in reverse, this is my birth day.

Sixty-two. Today, I turn this old. Yay, happy me!

Today I celebrate by publishing online my latest baby: coffeecupreflections.com. This is what’s been keeping me busy lately -designing, layouting, writing content, figuring out why it won’t work. For the most part, a lot of troubleshooting and shooting troubles down as they appear. It’s a blog collection of my best and worst #mycoffeecupreflections IG & Facebook posts. Nothing in-between. Some are old (I have re-written for better appreciation), some are new.

A few days ago, I asked my beautiful wife Rissa if it’s a good thing to give out some treats for today. I was planning to gift the first 100 subscribers to the site. She said to manage my expectations and just make it 10 to avoid major disappointment. Excellent suggestion, indeed.

Next, I asked Nikkei, my lovely daughter for her opinion. She said it’s an excellent idea -only if you’re famous! Brutal. But real.

Finally, Andre, my favorite son and golf buddy. His comment: 😶😶😶.

He looked away. And then again: 😶😶😶.

Considering all the suggestions and stoic reactions, I am shooting for Jupiter’s moon: 

For the first 62 subscribers, your coffee for the day is on me. I hope this will be worth your while considering I held a garage sale of my pre-loved underwear and old photo albums of solo pictures just so I can afford giving away free coffee.

Make sure you have a GCash or a Paypal account. 

Good for one cup only. With each sip, think of me and the garage sale.

May your day be blessed! 

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What if my Mother Finished School?

This thought has not crossed my mind before until it did.

By logical deduction, my dear mother didn’t finish school primarily because they were poor. Also, World War II and the Japanese got in the way. Her asthma, too. But there was another reason.

Recently, I got the chance to ask the last man standing and the only boy among the siblings, uncle Emiliano, the youngest at 80. I asked him why only one of them was able to finish college. He didn’t easily find an answer but also pinned poverty as a reason. But he added that most of them, probably including my mother, were not interested in finishing school. After all, a housewife’s job can’t be learned outside a home.

Still, I ponder on the thought.

𝐼𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑔 was not very good in Math so she wouldn’t have been an engineer. The measurements needed for her cooking ingredients were done 𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰. Also, I don’t remember her helping me with my science homework. Nope, a mad scientist she wasn’t cut out to be.

A teacher, maybe? Because the only one who graduated, my aunt Adelina, was a teacher. All the life lessons she taught made me who I am today minus some imperfections here and there that silently made their way into this perfection.

But I heard her sing some Karen Carpenter songs when I was a kid. And her singing “Heart of Jesus” and “Oh, Sacred Heart” were my best memories of her great voice. Yep, she would have made it big as a singer.

But she didn’t.

My 𝘛𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨 loved her the lovely way she was and took her as his wife. And because of that, we became her children. And she became the most loving mother to us.

She would have turned 95 today and if still alive with her asthma, I doubt if she could still blow 95 candles out. I can only imagine her silly grin showing the dentures her only daughter-dentist made for her as she prepares to blow. She’d probably oblige, just the same, to the singing of her grand- and great-grandchildren the Happy Birthday song.

I can only ponder and heave a deep sigh… wishing. Although it has been 14 years now since the last time my eyes saw her, my heart will never forget. The same heart that resonated with hers while I was resting in her womb.

Happy birthday, Inang! With so much of the love I felt as a child. You are one great treasure I will never lose.

Here’s to you. Cheers!

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Plant Now, Shade Later

“A society grows old when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they shall never sit.”

This beautiful proverb will sound Greek to you if you’re unconcerned about your grandchildren’s grandchildren. But the ancient Greeks, turned out, did. The not so ancient past and the present are proofs of that, albeit imperfect.

I see myself as an old man because I am. I am turning 62 in a few weeks. Sixty-two in any language, shape and form is old. And I have an opportunity to be that person in the proverb not just because I am old. But also because I am in the present when my actions can help shape the future.

Over the next few months, I am not just flicking a switch or turning a water valve, I will prepare my heart and mind to elect the new leaders of our country.  

I prepare by praying. That God will anoint those that I vote for. That they may not only serve people wholeheartedly but also bring people closer to God, and be pleasing before God.

I prepare by contributing not only my time but also my resources knowing these will not go to waste or be pocketed because I will not be voting for proven thieves and crooks who have enriched themselves thru corruption. I am paying much attention now to my conscience more than ever.

Part of what makes this planting difficult is the fake information out there surrounding those who cannot tell the difference. 

I am only in the present until I am not. And in the shade of the tree I am planting now, I hope many will find rest sitting.

Cheers!

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A Christmas Story

Christmas remains my favorite season of the year. As a kid living in the province, I looked forward to having family members gather in one place -a different one each year. It was a time for me to get some real toys since, for the rest of the year, we hand-made DIYs using bamboos or tree branches or scavenged marbles. Arguably deprived in a way, my tiny mind understood.

Now, Christmas delivers an exciting challenge to gift-giving: what to give who, and how; individual or group; inexpensive or cheap (yep, I am that!); batteries or no batteries. And the mode of delivery, too. Not quite the galloping rush we were used to, there’s still a lot to consider.

Just the same, I feel the joy ripples in.

But first, a Christmas story and a song. My son, Andre, taking a short break from K-Pop music, played Ben & Ben’s most popular Christmas song, Bibingka, one coffee time.

Immediately, I recalled the time our favorite little neighbor, Pia, then 7, helped trim our Christmas tree. She took care of the lower area easily reached by her little hands while her Tito Andre covered the middle to the top.

Outside, I set up the lights. The highlight of the day was the lighting of the lights. Excitedly, Pia stood still in front of the house, waiting for the lights to come on. And as soon as they illumined her face, she sang a line from the song: “Nagsiawit ang mga anghel sa langit…!” Easily, it was one fine stuff that memories are made of.

I had a chance to tell the singer-composer of that song when Andre had him and their common friends over for coffee and guitar jamming. It tickled him. And Pia was on cloud nine. 

Recent memories like this I still can grab from mother time. Last night, I pulled her out of her cocoon to witness our annual Christmas lighting. And she, now 10, obliged doing a remake of the singing. 

The angels sang with us. 

Cheers.

Start here.

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Ginagawang laruan na lang ang kawawang bayan natin. At ginagawang manlalaro ng kanilang laro ang mga Pilipino na pinaniniwala nilang ito ang sagot sa kahirapan.

Nag-hihirap man ako ngayon dahil sa korapsyon, sa pagnanakaw, sa paglilinlang nila, sasama pa rin ba ako sa laro nila?

Para lang ba sa akin ang aking paglalaro, o para sa kinabukasan ng aking mga anak at mga anak nila?

Kaawaan nawa tayo ng Diyos.

I’ve Won Pulitzer!

Add to that the Nobel for literature.

It’s just how I actually feel right now. The reason is not a Pulitzer or the Nobel. What made me feel like a winner was one article in medium.com from one writing mentor-coach where my name was mentioned.

In the article, the author, John Cunningham, wrote, “His writing truly touches my heart.” Whoa! Did I, really?

I know it’s not that big a deal for many, but for a simple man who takes little to be happy, it sends me to a euphoric state so intense I could dance!

My writings -and you know this, are an ensemble of confusion and mediocrity, many times not hitting the mark I was aiming for. I agree that consistent practice makes perfect, but finding time and inspiration is a challenge.

Many more important things can get into my writing time like corporate work -I run a lighting design company. Then there is laundry. We do not have any maid nor do we outsource. I am duty-bound. Rinse and repeat.

And running. And golf. And Netflix. And toilet.

As opposed to doing laundry, writing is a non no-brainer task. For me, at least. And since I am not a Bo Sanchez who can write while riding a boat on rough waters -yep, I’ve been in one with him, an accolade from a fellow writer (😎 ) brings out the little child in me. It takes a little to make me happy. 

John’s article and the comments I receive for #mycoffeecupreflections raise my level from mediocrity to exceptional. You, likewise, though unknowingly, touch my heart.

Cheers!

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