Judgments and Reflections

One morning after church, my wife and I were driving through a neighboring village. Cruising at a grandmother’s speed, I spotted a man tending to his front garden. “Look at that man,” I remarked to Rissa. “His legs are bowed.” A few meters down the road, my spy lens caught a woman with an asymmetrical bulge around her neck. “Must be goiter,” I told my lovely passenger the diagnosis.

Shortly after, just before the next turn, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. Adjusting its angle, I saw an aging, bald man with visible liver spots and sagging eye bags staring back at me. At that moment, I realized my own imperfections. I was a badass. Baddest!

I didn’t know what came over me as I am not typically that judgmental. Though I am in some ways, that was unforgivable. Maybe it was a misplaced defense mechanism -a revenge in the name of all the bald people in the world who are always the laughingstock in any discussion: family gatherings, online political posts, newspaper editorials, medical dissertations, and even homilies. Like if you can’t think of anything funny or there’s a lull in a conversation, there’s a fallback. Make fun of the bald guy. It always works. You can’t miss us. We are like a knight in shining…, well, without the armor.

But revenge isn’t mine. It’s the Lord’s, says the Bible in Romans 12:19.

Mea culpa, Lord. I leave judgment to You.

The next day, driving down the same street. I saw the same garden again -it was so well-manicured. It can only be done masterfully by one who had great skills. I failed to see that the other day.

I didn’t see the lady anymore before the turn, but now I recall that she was all smiles. Like there was genuine joy written on her face. That, too, I failed to notice.

So here’s to all who may not look perfect in the eyes of others, you are perfect in the eyes of those who love you.
Cheers!

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As the year comes to a close, we cherish our Thanksgiving tradition of attending Holy Mass and, during breakfast, sharing reflections on God’s abundant blessings throughout the year. With grateful hearts, we welcome the New Year, praying for joy, peace, and prosperity for all. Wishing everyone a blessed and Happy New Year!

Losing Andre, Finding Andre

Instant panic. In seconds, the quiet McStore turned into a hide-and-seek arena. We scrambled in and out of the store, frantically searching for our little adventurer.

“Check the deep fryer!” Rissa shouted.

‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’ came rushing to mind.

We finally found him inside a nearby video arcade, his neck outstretched, watching older kids playing games. He was completely unbothered and oblivious to the terror we were having for lunch. We, in contrast, aged a decade in those ten minutes.

Forward 25 years, and the boy who wandered off is now the man who keeps us on course. Literally, like a compass. When we travel, Rissa and I willingly switch into what we call “bobo mode” because we know Andre (and happy-meal Nikkei) have it all figured out -directions, itineraries, logistics -you name it. But, much like those McDonald’s meals, I still paid.

His influence extends into our lighting design firm, Toespin. Previously, I would say he “works for me.” Now, I proudly say he “works with me.” Of course, he complains occasionally, frequently, but that’s ok.

Andre, the best golf coach I never asked for, introduced me to the game. Now, the fairway is our shared playground. Despite missed putts and lost balls, we’ve had more laughs than birdies. Joy doesn’t always come from perfect drives but from being together.

And, of course, his barista skills. The boy who once disappeared is now the man who fills our cups -both literally and figuratively.

Andre, as you turn 29, know this: the best is yet to come. Life rewards hard work, kindness, and faith, and you embody all of that.

Happy Birthday, son. Thank God for returning you to us all those years ago. You have led us ever since.

Now, give me a cortado, please, so I can raise a toast.

Cheers!

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Thanks and Fore-Ward

Hey!

I just finished reading all the comments on yesterday’s blog post and Rissa’s update. While you were busy commenting, liking, and loving, I was out early on the fairway with three of my best golf buddies: my twin brother Fred, my brother Gani, and my son-coach, Andre. We spent the morning driving, pitching, putting, and, of course, hunting down those elusive lost balls. Note: for those who don’t play the game, golf doubles as a treasure-hunt-kind of activity. Double the fun, double the time. Yep, wonder no more.

The day didn’t stop there. I attended an early evening mass as my thanksgiving offering and then capped it off with dinner alongside my lovely family. Was it a packed day? Sure. But busy? Not really. I had fun, and that’s what mattered.

Now, to those who took the time to send a like, a love, or a comment, here’s my heartfelt back-at-you. I read every single one of your comments, and as I did, I mentioned your name (or your handle) to God in prayer. I wasn’t just speed-scanning with my eyes. If you had been sitting beside me at my desk, you would’ve heard me softly -yet audibly -say your name. And if you liked or commented on both posts (FB and IG), guess what? You got prayed for multiple times!

My prayer? That God blesses you twice over for the wishes and prayers you sent my way. To the kind souls who prayed for me to hit birdies on the course -you know who you are -may you find yourself hitting birdies in your next game. I know, I know. You probably wished for a million dollars for me. Had you known, you might have wished for five million instead, right? And too bad you can’t wish for a new girlfriend for me -Rissa might have something to say about that. Or worse, something to hit me with (though thankfully, my golf bag is safely out of her reach).

But here’s the thing: God knows your heart better than I do -better than even you do. So, dacál á salámat (many thanks) to you for your kindness, humor, and prayers.

As I sit here with a warm cup of coffee in my hands, I raise it to all of you. You are all beautiful spirits, and I’m deeply grateful for every one of you.

Cheers!

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Breaking 65!

Today seems as good a day as any to dig up some meaning in my life, inspired by the witty words of my good ol’ pal George Bernard Shaw: “Youth is wasted on the young, and wisdom is wasted on the old.”

The Youth:

Looking back, did I squander my youth’s potential on Electrical Engineering, basketball, and tennis? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Was working abroad for five years and backpacking solo across Europe a frivolous adventure? Not entirely. Losing my passport, all my money and everything I had to live on as a tourist in Spain wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but hey -it gave me stories to tell the grandkids (when I grow up).

The Old:

Today, I hit 65. By any standards, I’m officially the “old” in Georgie’s quote. And yet, wisdom -or something like it -led me to swap rackets for clubs and establish Toespin, my lighting design company. Sure, my physical energy now depends heavily on creaky knees and a thinning top, but I like to think I’ve still got it. At least, that’s what I tell myself on a good day.

Irony now measures itself in my iron clubs, whose distances mirror life -short and full of unintended curves. My shots might not follow a straight line, but who says life’s adventures should? These days, I try to live by a simple mantra: Carpe Diem. Seize the day, coffee cups, bunkers, and all.

So here’s to more misadventures and the wisdom to laugh at it all. Each day is an adventure waiting to unfold and a story waiting to be told.

God be praised.

Cheers to George.

60+5 senior cheers to me!

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THE RETURN JOURNEY

If someone hikes up a mountain and, upon reaching the summit, begins descending, they’re heading back -back to the base, back to where it all began. It’s a journey home.

Indulge my caffeine-fueled brain for a moment...�

My dear Inang lived for 27,814 days. Her halfway point, day 13,907, was December 31, 1964. I had just turned five years and 18 days old.

On that festive New Year’s Eve, nearly 60 years ago today, my beloved Inang was, in a way, starting her descent -her journey back home to the Holy Father. If her life leading up to December 31, 1964, was about climbing and living, everything after that was her graceful return. Her return to Him. Her goodbye journey.

Of course, there was no way for me to know this. I was just a little boy. I couldn’t read, couldn’t write, and certainly couldn’t sit (or squat around our 'dulang,' that low-level dining table) and sip coffee to reflect on life as I do now. No one told me she was leaving -returning -to where all good souls go.

Had I known, even as a child, I would have loved her more openly. I would have obeyed her without hesitation. I wouldn’t have laughed at her when she put on lipstick or sprayed her hair, wanting to look more beautiful for the dance with dear Tatang at the barrio Glorieta. I would have stayed by her side more often, listening to her stories of the Japanese occupation. I would have held her hand more tightly during her battles with asthma, whispered more words of love, and cherished every moment.

Today would have been her 98th birthday. Not a day passes without me thinking of her. I try to keep her memories alive, savoring the moments we shared. I pray my own old age never robs me of those precious memories -the ones that keep her gentle spirit close to me.

Oh, by the way, unless I live to be 130 years old, I too am on my way back. Every passing day gets me closer to my own journey's end. And I realize there are others dear to me on the same path.

I miss you, dearest Inang. I love you more than words can ever express.

This cup of coffee, I raise to you. Cheers to you, always.

WKD

Did you know that the world celebrated World Kindness Day just a few days ago? If you did, did you make an extra effort to be kind, kinder, or kindest that day? Or maybe you simply acknowledged the kindness of others -which is also a form of kindness. As for me, I missed it. Not because I was busy insulting, mocking, taunting, or cursing (I’m not that kind). I didn’t realize such a day existed. A laudable effort? Absolutely. But necessary? Hmm…

I mean, take Christmas, for one.

Kindness should be a daily habit, not just a tick in the calendar. While Christmas has bells, lights, carols, and nicely trimmed trees reminding us to be nice rather than naughty, its spirit should linger throughout the year. But, with life getting so busy, we all need a gentle nudge. If Christmas is kindness in full sparkle, World Kindness Day is its minimalist version.

For me, Christmas is deeply spiritual -a time to reflect on Someone far greater than ourselves: Jesus Christ. Its influence transcends seasons, inspiring ripples of kindness all year long. World Kindness Day, perhaps, is one such ripple -a gentle reminder of the power of goodwill.

I pray for a time when we don’t need days like No Cheating Day, No Stealing Day, or No Bwisit Day.

Here’s to a future where every day is Happy Coffee Day -served and sipped with a generous dose of kindness.

Cheers!