Work

Work is love made manifest.  It used to be dole-out mindset characterizing all there is in work.  But after the downfall of  humanity’s first parent Adam and Eve  from the temptation, it was all real work again  needed or you would be starved to death.  We have seen in Genesis 3:19 God reminding them from then on to eke out their own living.  From the sweat of their brow you could only reap and savor  whatever fruit there is on the ground.  They too would soon realized that they have to go back to the ground where they were taken from.

Disappointment

(27^th Entry of My 500 Words Jeff Goins’ Daily Challenge. January 28, 2014)

Frankly I don’t entertain extra baggage let alone give serious look on negatives in life.  Dealing and relating all sorts of people accepting who they are has been my positive disposition giving me handsome dividend  at the end of a day – peace and contentment.  Priceless indeed compare to material possessions, mere temporary enjoyment you could never bring with you when you pass away.

Mindanao on Bike

Probably all migrants in Mindanao have the same familiar story why they stay in the island and most likely, wanting too to live   for good the rest of their lives. 

I’m from the Marble Country of  Romblon and studying in Xavier University in 1979 onward as Jesuit Pre-novice made it all happened.

Cutting Fluffy from "Climate Change" article

(25^th Entry to My 500 Words Daily Jeff Goins Challenge) 

Wow its just like cutting those excess fat getting rid of  fluffy giving you a breather.  Twenty Four  (24) fluffy on my count  tallied were the culprit.  Twelve individual adverb entries ending in “ly” were recorded from this.  The highest was “that” thing spread all over registering nine times.  Their and these registering twice and once followed far behind.  Below is the entire text.  Thanks it’s now a breeze reading, if I may get what this edited draft seems to be saying.  Read on.

The End - The Heart and Soul of Writing?

(24^th My 500 Words Entry. January 24, 2014)

Oh really! My immediate post to Christine Royse Niles, Jeff Goin’s Administrative In-Charge of  his global thirty one My 500 Words Daily Challenge while he is off in Africa.  How could it be?  Writing the ending first and just fill in between the relevant substance connecting and leading  to that end.  Hmm, seems like you are entering the realm of an  unknown shoot up and away in far horizon.

 That could be the downside of it all but its upside must be a way to go too if you want to redefine writing, this the consoling thought playing in mind remembering how a professional writing mentor revealed  how one should engaged writing.  Might be sick joke also imagine writing the end of a story while you are caught between indecision what to write as you are still groping in the dark and thinking what relevant writing prompt to use for the day.  Just write anyway  the end as if your gift to your readers patronizing your piece.  Your apt give-away writing freebie your readers would remember too you dishing out your best  compliment writing such beautiful project.  In sum, could be a stamp of your character imprinted in your style of writing as Og Mandigo would put it in his “Greatest Salesman of the World.”

 Anyway, why not just try it for fun as so far Jeff Goin’s recommended writing prompts  from day one worked wonder getting you hooked and trapped in his thirty one straight day re-writing MY 500 Words Daily  challenge.  Another challenge here but this time the sailing is tough as you have to  validate yourself how  said topic simply works.

 This then encourages me to revisit familiar work – my first ever fiction – “The Needle” how I applied “The End” from my subconscious writing this clincher with a twist, something your general reading public least expected but appreciating your creativity nonetheless.  I understand doing this is also part of strategy writing your clincher.  Irving Wallace writing style was into this leaving me stunned with this  kind of intriguing clincher.  In his “The Second Lady” for instance, he asked – Who was it between two ladies who took the first step down to the tarmac before the jet plane exploded.  The first or the second?  Aba malay ko, of course was my initial comment resolved to drop Irving Wallace from the list of my interest.

 Why in the world are we implicated on his work right there at the end?  There I was veering away reading his work, until I have to grapple it answering the question grappling face to face with reality.  (This as the question was still unresolved hanging in my subconscious pestering why in the world gullible reader like me is taken in a joyride bonding with his character!)  The first or the second lady?  I don’t care, was my final answer.  Only then that my appetite reading his work returned coming in handy.  As my way of exorcising the devil that engulfed me, I further came up with my analysis  about many of his works to an article “Irving Wallace,  Pinoy Media and The Almighty.”  Irving Wallace readers could definitely relate me on this.

How about a viewer right beside you ranting out of a blue shouting at the top of his voice directed against artists in a theater upstage?  But of course, you too would dropped from where you are seated disturbed by the ranting of your neighbor not knowing that he was actually part also of the cast only filling that role albeit short but contributing the total packaging of the plot of the play causing you temporary nosebleed and high blood on the other end.

Fast forward.  Here’s how I treated this The End topic from my work:

Chapter 20

The Flight

               

That Ferdinand Marcos was already considered a terminal case on the remaining few months of 1985 was mere platitude among many observers.  Words even circulated around that Uncle Sam was merely waiting in the wings any opportune time most likely when to drop him without forcing the latter to stage harakiri  running around berserk.  Dropping him like hot potato was indeed seems eminent as Uncle Sam had no other choice as multitude of Filipinos was breath away from victory as they were already pressing Malacanang main entrance. But not to the man himself who was still capable of pulling some surprises from under his sleeves.   

            He was not even afraid  of the rebel forces whose numbers bloated to 22,500 more than half  in 1985 from measly 10,500 in 1983 in roughly two year’s armed combatant expansion. How much more that time  he was  still in power with all the support of the military.

 “Sick joke,” Marcos must be mumbling  against those pressing him to give up.  He still has all those aces stuck under his sleeve and would be ready picking  them up when the need arises  to quell the fire of  rebellion, must have been also his make believe battle cry  Well said  for  as far as the Apo is concerned, it was not yet  time to recapitulate let alone, die pure and simple not knowing that time for reckoning of his past was fast approaching as seen from the seas of multitude  gradually swelling advancing to Malacañang to hand over their verdict. 

“How could he afford  sleeping away anyway when tons of money scattered throughout the world great bulk of which were securely deposited in Swiss Banks whose secrecy has been legend since World War I. Germany, Haiti, Iran and the Philippines to name a few have opened an account there only that those depositors are no ordinary mortals,” Driarco analyzed.  Imelda Marcos’ anathema on February 2005 seems prophetic when she alarmed Switzerland that they don’t have any business to open and  take the money that doesn’t belong to them in the same vein when she cautioned US no right of using power on foreigners specially their Filipino friends! And her bombshell against those critics alleging the use of tortures during her husbands twenty years in power torturing political dissidents.

 “We did not even pinch any human right victim.”

“It sucks!” Driarco easily responded.

 “That as far as she is concerned. If she could only look at those graphics showing systematic torture, she would easily swallow her alibi faster than she would swallow her saliva!” he retorted reeling.

“Think of Lakay Ferdie and beautiful Imelda who methodically rob  the country’s wealth blind,  clean and dry  with impunity leaving it poor owing $28 Billion debt to World Bank and IMF as they leave their power behind while they enjoy ironically with much gusto their celebrated loot at will. It’s no ordinary feat for Juan to do it.  But they both did it extra-ordinary,” his thoughts further carried him onward.

Carmen Pedrosa, a columnist would later write “The Conjugal Dictatorship” narrating in graphic account how the first couple did it. The other book “The Untold Story of Imelda Romualdez Marcos” is such other engrossing book relating the dramatic fairy-tale story of  Imelda from a mere bodega girl to a canteen girl in the Senate before  then Congressman Marcos was smitten by her charm. The rest so to speak was history as she would soon morphed into a multi-millionaire catching up with the world’s wealthiest Joneses.

Holding on for dear life, not even his deteriorating health gradually taking its toll  could force him  yielding  his celebrated loot.  Kidney was no doubt methodically making  Marcos’ life difficult. His puffy face tells it all as seen in many TV appearances sapping his strength gradually like a cankerous cancer eating meticulously his vital flesh.  This proves to one and all that as citizens of the world, he is also dispensable like all the rest of creation.  Aware that time is pushing him against the wall, he surprisingly called for a snap election few months later. That was in February of 1986.

Unfortunately, that call proved to be his last undoing, a kiss of death to his undefeated political career sealing his honeymoon with politics beyond his wildest imagination. The Filipinos were robbed off of victory alleging Cory Aquino’s camp rigging off the result of election favoring of course Ninoy Aquino’s widow. Ergo, wasting no time,  he had Tolentino, his running mate, and himself proclaimed as winning candidates in Malacañang balcony of course mostly his loyalists in attendance. 

“Good grief Charlie Brown! It was the first time  that the Philippines had ever two Presidents,” Driarco exclaimed learning the story in newspapers and TV.

  Sadly though, it confirms to be Marcos’ last hurrah as thousands of  Filipinos were already pressing Malacañang’s gate to probably deliver the final coup ‘d grace. Seething with anger accumulating over the years, they were seemingly out for the biggest kill against the greatest plunderer of the nation.  Seeing the great multitude cutting barb wires amidst guns and cannons so to speak, probably finally convinced Marcos of eating his words that not all 60 million population are that cowards prompting him  staging his last and graceful exit from Malacañang palace and the country. 

Good that at least he did not succumb to the unsolicited advice from Gen. Ver, his once trusted servant leapfrogging into a rabid Marcos General and loyalist, to bomb Camp Aguinaldo where the mutineers led by Enrile and Fidel Ramos and thousand others holed in. 

“Who says that Judas is only in the bible giving headache to Jesus.  He was right there in the Philippines too reincarnated in Camp Aguinaldo  that time doing great service and favor to Filipino people, a treachery to Lakay Ferdie.,” Driarco thinking  aloud and simply amused more than restless over the ever unpredictable environment..

What would have been considered a historical disgrace to the ailing President incredibly became his last saving grace to many mostly from the loyalists’ camp of course.

 “That’s why there still that tag  of greatness attached to his name,” says a Marcos loyalist forever rightfully intoned. 

Maybe.  Unknown though to him and great many others is the fact that it was not definitely advisable  blowing up Camp Aguinaldo into bits and pieces let alone cooling off the intensity of People Power gaining momentum sustained by peoples  power coming alive along Epifanio del los Santos Avenue or EDSA  providing  him excellent and legitimate excuse of sneaking out from the palace.  He would have been roasted alive by the Filipinos he exploited had White House did not intervene.

“No thanks to Pentagon connection for showing great mercy sparing Apo Ferdie’s life his hoarded gold and other amassed wealth included’” he snapped back in consolation.

“Hail, hail the gangs all here. What a heck together in this stormy weather. . . .” Ka Ferdie, the Cojuangco’s, Bendicto’s and the rest of Alibaba’s entourage might have sang merrily while aboard that American jet plane shopping safer country.

“Oh no Paoay men not Hawaii!,” Marcos might have begged and exclaimed griping as he and the first lady were escorted by an American servicemen down  to Honolulu tarmac.

The same feather flocks together. Thus, he joins the likes of Baby Duc Duvalier of Haiti, Shah Pavlavi of Iran, Anastacio Somoza of Nicaragua and later Noriega of Panama driven out from their own country by their own people becoming  stranger of paradise in other lands.  The damages seems to be deeply imbedded to Filipino psyche that Pinoys have summoned even enough guts in having the dead body of the dictator double killed by blocking its  return for burial in the Philippines.  Though incessant lobbying though by several camps, Apo Ferdie finally became an additional fertilizer to the Philippines’ ground in Laoag much later not until his double in exquisite wax  was  displayed in  Aglipayan Church right across their residence in Batac, Ilocos Sur.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

No doubt, the nine long years of military rule was a nightmare to Juan.

  “If I were dreaming about it, I would rather not wake up until I have dreamed it away from my consciousness,” Driarco opined.  So many lives were wasted from academe to the church, labor unions to farmers, students to enlisted men  and ordinary citizens to civilians. It’s just what militarization is capable of doing. Treasured intuitions too collapsed one after the other.  To aggravate the problem, the country was held captive by the International Monetary Fund, World Bank and their Filipino cohorts practically ramming down into Juan’s mouth what to do with his economy from levying of additional burdensome taxes from beleaguered tax payers to prompt payment of his financial obligation.  Debt cap has been rallied only to get categorical “No!” answer from those powerful international Monetary bodies. Juan suffers all the more.

“Most unlikely, you can just even request for a moratorium of your obligation unless you’d like to have your economy strangled squeezed to death by IMF the way it did to other countries like those in Latin American countries like Brazil, Peru and Argentina,” an authority of the subject once emphasized.

Pulling off surprising victory on the just concluded snap election notwithstanding the claim on the contrary by the opposing camp that Marcos and Tolentino  actually won, she finally set the tone of her administration opening the Malacañang to the general viewing public exposing the extravagance of the first couple.

 “Gee, how could the first couple can ill afford living that lavish life while millions of Filipinos were naked, starved to death and homeless,”  Juan exclaimed seeing the ostentatious display of wealth inside the palace.

He who runs away during a fight naturally lost, was how Sen. Rene Saguisag justifies the legality of Cory’s victory in one of his appearance in Dong Puno’s highly rated Viewpoint’s talk show. Just like in cockfights in other words. But it was not a cockfight, but an election, the opposing gentleman would openly argue against.  So what, Juan might probably intervene. He has been deprived of basic necessities in life, decent living in his own land for so long. Enough is enough. It’s time to welcome the widow that is Cory to provide the necessary lift.

True enough, she did great favor to Juan by giving him back his security and freedom to live mangled by Marcos. As categorically declared in her inaugural address on the 25^th of February to be magnanimous in victory, she released the first batch of 441 detainees and 39 prisoners in her third day of office.  Horacio Morales, Fr. Ed de le Torre and Lt. Victor Corpus, an erstwhile professor at Philippine Military Academy in Baguio turned renegade head the lists of political detainees were released.  The next batch included Jose Maria Sison, Bernabe Buscayno and many others.  To prevent arbitrary arrests and detention of ordinary citizens, she restored the writ of habeas corpus, brazenly suspended by Marcos. Defanging the  military, she had twenty two overstaying generals including Gen. Fabian Ver, axed by ordering them forcefully retired.  What more could Filipinos ask for from a widow?

Undoubtedly, the restoration of democracy buried in the quagmire by the late dictator was swift gradually restoring  too Juan’s normal breathing spree  savoring anew the  freshness of democracy.  She also formed the Presidential Commission on Human Rights.  Though devoid of any police power, it helped every Filipino seek redress  against any human right violators.  After her declaration of provisional  or revolutionary government, she went on proclaiming the creation of Constitutional Commission primarily tasked in formulating  draft of Constitution after thorough consultation with Filipino people in a national consensus scale all throughout the country.  Successfully ratified, it would later became  law of the land stipulating all those principles of  effective and legal governance.

The transition from dictatorial to democratic was not all beds and roses though for Juan.  Dwindling economy, $28 Billion IMF debt, sporadic hostilities between the reds and military, bloated bureaucracy, possible resurgence of fascist rule given the power and unpredictability of Marcos’ loyalists camp, termination of Military Bases Agreement, internecine strife of Muslims’ for autonomy and independence in Mindanao,  above all else bread and butter for Juan painted a rather challenging and narrow path for peace and development.

One of her drawback though was when she declared the controversial and problematic $2.3 Billion  Bataan Nuclear Power Plant not her priority concern. Such unpopular decision and gesture  boomeranged to her administration waning gradually

her popularity giving pressures to nationalists block and opposition in the House of Congress and Senate.  This white elephant build yet over a volcanic area draining taxpayers money as the country pays millions of pesos in interest alone daily should have really been addressed.  And there’s no other way to do it than really facing  and addressing  the problem squarely. When this would be however, is yet to be seen as she was top heavy and preoccupied with enormous problems inherited from Marcos.

Obviously, the homework for President Cory Aquino  was huge and difficult. But  there’s no other way out  than really facing  and start solving it.  Gratefully,  democratic space was all there left for consultation. It’s all what Cory and the people need to move on. It’s what Juan badly needs as he was once deprived  during military rule, many starved to death that he has no recourse but to go up in the hills.

The 1,200,000 signatories started it all proving to one and all that Filipinos are not that stupid and ignorant and that given the chance to shine, could turn any events upside down such as restoration of democracy not through the barrel of a gun but through the power of the ballots in an election.

“It’s time to participate not just support because supporting is merely saliva power.”

“Nothing is indeed worthwhile than really serving the country.  That Filipinos have shown to the whole world how to introduce sweeping change through people’s power without any bloodshed is no ordinary feat. Juan just did it with minimum damage if  at all, to the claim of the contrary,” the consoling thought giving him fleeting contentment.

Again the transition was far from over.  This is the challenge facing every Filipino today. Indiscriminate firing would still fill the air unabated if there would be no sincerity of working out lasting peace for both camps. Ceasefire would just be in papers only, no substance whatsoever if only summoned during Christmas and holidays.  Such would be tragedy for democracy. As such the next generation might soon wake up only to just died down without seeing the dawn of genuine democracy let alone, worked out and practiced.  We will never fail.  How could we when we have not even tried and worked it, one columnist would succinctly puts it. Perhaps, the Brother’s Four relevant question would still be asked:  When would we ever learn, when would we ever learn?

While there is still time to do and act or when we have ourselves already blown into bits and pieces as Aldous Huxley puts it bravely fictionalized in his “The Brave New World”. Let us be therefore  all be brave but not at the expense of squeezing each others throat but by building better working human relationship between and among us Filipinos.  After all, we belong to the same race, creed and living in the same nation eating the same food in this rice and corn eating republic.

Earlier, it has been noticeably observed that the lists of casualties of past dictatorship was long. No doubt on that. Fr. Driarco, Taklin and the rest of the gang were just part of the great multitude sacrificed for the freedom of the country.  The trend is still progressing and that should preoccupied everybody’s mind as it seems we have not exorcised the country’s evil yet.  Think for instance of the statistics gathered by Task force Detainees. It’s alarming to Juan painting black scenario around him – 4.5 million children affected or exposed to the conflict, 10 million people killed, injured, sick or displaced by the conflict. The saddest reality one has to grapple with is that those who received the worst beatings are mostly civilians from poorest regions.  To top it all around 120,000 were already displace evacuees rivaling boatpeople of Vietnam in Bataan and Palawan.  Internal refugees, that’s what Juan would commonly call unfortunately in his own homeland.

            How to stop this senseless killings is precisely the challenge hurl to each one of us.  No use wasting lives. It’s only given once.  Live it abundantly, advised St. Paul. How, Juan asked . What else but no more Martial Law, the original root cause of all evil and abnormalities.  Hence, post Martial Law babies and those who suffer included beware – No  More Militarization! It pays to be living in democratic country.  But I think the brightest place to live is when you reap dividends like lasting peace. Democracy just doesn’t thrive in a hostile environment.  It does to a free country.  Yes,  a Filipino can.  Why not indeed. Be a crusader yourself of peace. Join the silent majority. We will never fail. Overwhelm any division and strife around. Just stand up and be one!’

            Driarco finally stop pounding his typewriter thinking he has already bare his soul The manuscript was already done. Time to stop and celebrate never mind critics would review his work. It was time for him to heard what  critics’ comments to his piece. As he marked his character and individuality in it, it’s time to listen to feedback and see what might be done to improve his opus. And devil may care. He doesn’t mind for as long as he already delivered his best shot. Closing with a short prayer, he paused with a consoling  thought that his message of peace in this magnum opus would reverberate saturating the entire 7,100 island of the archipelago with his message of Peace! On that note, he dozed off to bed snoozing while  sleeping peacefully as if the first time harboring no fear.

Fear of the Unknown

I think the title of this entry is explainable and the catch is obviously an implicit paradox – the fear of the unknown without actually fearing it! - The inverse also follows  as Pacman would say in his Nike's “No fear” ad  boxing exploits winning as many as eight different weight division.  But fear where is your victory knowing that there is really nothing to fear about especially you have already conquered or explored the unknown.  Right! That therefore leaves us that word “fear” itself if it could stand according to its merit or not crumbling to the ground. What is there left anyway that you have to really fear it.

Retiree's Confession

Tough and heavy exercise to take so far as we are nearing down the stretch of this free-writing challenge. But I think doing this experiment is like purging of toxins out from the body. Letting this extra baggage goes down the drain would give what any of us could not just easily  bargain for - psychological satisfaction far outweighing  the extra baggage that kept us trapped and imprisoned of the past.  Time to level up with the present or we would soon realize losing our grip of reality losing our way.  What you’ve got anyway as creative guy is natural experience as sunny day making us all  fall on that elusive but surely crazy trap.  I mean, doing those crazy things inadvertently as part of our journey towards fulfillment and liberation.  Not necessarily charactering those crazy artists like Vincent Van Gogh whose lust for life emboldened him into cutting his ear (hmm silly things indicating that the guy preoccupied with his masterpieces of Starry, starry night . . . might have really suffered starvation that taking a piece of his ear would  do him good never mind fleeting contentment!)

Justice, Mother Teresa's Way

As former seminarian and wanted to be a Catholic priest back then but didn't make it, I always dig saints.  Human as we are, we are always searching anything that are good and beautiful.  Same  our hunger for truth, love and justice.  I think saints lead us the way.  By saints, I mean not just  the holy people of old  weaving miracles and magic but ordinary ones made of flesh and blood oozing with incredible talents and creativity giving all they have for humanity liberating them from the quagmire of poverty and suffering all for God’s greater glory. Mother Teresa is one. 

 No regret though that I didn't became His Alter Christus validating that God really is good.  Well this awakening always call for a celebration. At least I am still alive and  could still afford ranting through my music and writings. Might have already been met crossover abroad six feet under the ground had I’d been ordained. Why?  When you've got very sensitive heart and soul for the poor, I foresee that I would not definitely last that long in the ministry. Except when you pretend and play deaf, dumb and blind on different injustices happening around. Like hyphenated and  hyper priests, I might have gone to the hills too for safety. Where anyway good man goes if not for the collective consciousness of the company of good guys you would feel secure and safe. Or I might just too naïve on the meaning of ministry. Not really that sure as you can still eligible of serving in whatever capacity you could. What more when you would also be armed to protect your life and limbs once you are there. Many are called indeed but few are chosen.  Yes of course, God is still good as I don’t have any regrets living more each day as if lusting for life making the best of it whatever contribution I could make for the day. 

 The likes however of Mother Teresa is an exception. By then the name  of Mother Teresa of Calcutta floating in the air was one of my favorite that came out. The living saint in fact is how the whole Christendom referred her because of her works of charity among the least member of society, the poor, the sick, needy and yes  the most feared member of society – the lepers!

Unfortunately though there were no available biography about her to serve as ready reference before as she was still alive. However the thought that I read that she would even write her prayer while in transit in a plane showing how she values time is all I could hear that on top of attending regular mass service and faithful watch of blessed sacrament before each mass to keep her going her hectic schedule.  This the reason why this fragile nun with rocklike faith declared saint by Vatican   brimming with energy dishing out her service to the downtrodden, people living in abject poverty in India giving her tender loving care among its sick sounds a welcome development.

Thus, the death wish I oftentimes hear, how people in India would prepare dying that way – dying in the loving arms of Mother Teresa did become the best thing that could ever happened to a sick man. What a wonderful event really happening to each one in the loving arms of Mother Teresa!

That until I research her life from the Google learning too inspiring quotes about life and living. Justice? This is it, concept Mother Teresa did not just defined, but also lived. 

Here are top 10 Mother Teresa Quotes to inspire us today. These without any accompanying explanations as they are all explainable.

1. I can do things you cannot, you can do things I cannot; together we can do great things.
2. Prayer is not asking. Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God, at His disposition, and listening to His voice in the depth of our hearts.
3. Live simply so others may simply live.
4. God doesn't  require us to succeed, he only requires that you try.
5. Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless.
6. Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.
7. I know God won’t give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much.
8. Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.
9. Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
10. If you judge people, you have no time to love them.

These are just ten out of 248 lovable quotes of Mother Teresa. The bottom line is love, a precondition for justice if you have to be serious with the word.

She was born Agnes Gonxha Buyaxhiu at Skopje, Macedonia on August 26, 1910. She taught for 17 years in India before she experience “call within a call” caring for the sick and poor. She established leper colony. Pope Paul VI  would later bestowed her Missionary of Charity on 1965.  A prestigious Nobel Peace Prize, highest honor in recognition of her work by giving hope to suffering humanity, was given to her on 1979. She established many institutions since then. She died later on Sept. 5, 1997 at the age of 87 years old.

She would later divulge her identity : “By blood, I am Albanian. By citizenship, am Indian. By faith I am a Catholic nun. As to my calling, I belong to the world. As to my heart, I belong entirely to the Heart of Jesus.”

Three lessons learned from this fragile nun – immediacy of time, unconditional service through love and justice, and the power even just from One which derived its strength from God - .

(21st entry for My 500 Words Daily Challenge, January 21, 2014)

            

The Conspiracy

The Conspiracy

     Driarco had probably short of two hours sleep when jolted by the ringing of telephone on the desk by his side.  Putting on the light of the lampshade while rubbing his eyes as if clearing some specks out from their sockets, he saw it was still barely twenty five minutes before midnight on his wristwatch.  The soft tone and resonant voice on the line was very familiar to him.  It was his mother Illa Crispe.  But what urgent message she had that ungodly hour, the thought taking him aback as he reached for the telephone.

“Sorry, son, for disturbing and waking you up,” she said pausing setting the tone of her ultimate message hopefully to calm his nerve down on the other end.

“Yes, mom, what’s up?”  Driarco retorted knowing something ominous happens back home gauging from her voice tentative and shaking.

Taking deep bated breath and mustering enough courage after gradually regaining her composure, she finally spills the sad news.

“Dead!  Yes, your father is dead. . .!”  Brief deafening silence ensued as if hell break loose as the unexpected impact send shiver down his spine.

“Excuse me and I’m sorry.  Come again please. . . ," he snapped back as if protesting, emphasizing each word, begging the question in disbelief, aghast even before the message would sink deeper into his subconscious, quickly sending fear and trembling down all over to the top.  Like scalpel, it cuts into his very deep recesses the echo of the message blowing right before his face catching him practically off guard.

“He’s gone five hours ago after the attending physicians declared that there’s no way of reviving him back to life,” she reiterated holding back her tears, the tone of her voice slowly tearing his spirit into bits and pieces away.

Silence was deafening, as if the impact of the news registered too strong decibel for Driarco’s ear to hear.  Lost, finding appropriate words of comfort and empathy for her son, she just waited for his corresponding response.  But there was none coming from Driarco, save for deep sigh of disbelief on the other end.

“What a breaking news of all stories in the middle of the night yet,” he thought griping.  As he rightly construed from her calculated statement, something must have really gone wrong on her message.  Knowing now the incident involving his father, makes the whole thing doubly outrageous.  But what could he do, he was merely in the receiving end.

“Isn't it that life is full of surprises anyway?  Some like manna are sent from heaven.  All you have to do is pick them up and take and enjoy them with joyful hearts with great thanksgiving; the rest, beautifully packaged items and stuff that you have to open it first and voila requiring you sharing it with others.”  Ironically, today’s gift was practically incomprehensible to Driarco.  Sick joke, no  less pure and simple.

“God must be crazy,” he thought with reservation as he heaved sigh of relief feeling as if he was left in the cold of the dark.  Giving away his father’s life in a casket – “what a metaphor,” he pondered!

Holding on to his sanity, he mustered enough strength to be real.  “Death after all is a celebration of life.  We have to die to live again.  It’s a special growth taking place in man’s life and there’s just no way  postponing it.  The only catch is, you don’t recognize it until you experienced it yourself or party to the deceased.,” the thought from reflection of the subject coming out like globules from his palm.

“But what difference it makes? We’re all mortal in the first place. It’s just a matter of time when it would come.  It maybe now or later.  It’s fair game excluding none and indeed great life’s leveler like tax,” the thought continue engrossing him.  That makes passing away a mere transition, beautiful act towards fulfillment as you come and finally meeting personally God face to face.

“Great and no problem for such stage coming in its natural pace.  But not when it happens out of the blue.  Worst still when death comes unexpectedly shrouded in mystery yet,” the notion registering in his mind protesting emotionally drained from the shocking news over his father’s death.

Like any ordinary mortals, Driarco didn’t have any foreboding it was coming that way; let alone, fast, expecting such frightening news knowing his father’s Ora Et Labora – “Just do right and make things happen."  Stay in the middle when in doubt because that’s where virtue lies.  Don’t touch any live wires for they will in the end, electrocute you – and no nonsense ‘Take everything with moderation lifestyle,’” the reason he extended his vitality that far to his over ripe mature age of sixty five still very strong and healthy.  Unfortunately, that death snuffing his life out that night spoiled what otherwise would have been his rare and best chance of enjoying life to the fullest with his family.

“Who could have done this must have very important and urgent reason knowing  that his father had no perceived enemies,” his reaction for the first time feeling the heat of the incident facing the blank wall.

“Life is not ours to spend nor cherish.  It’s God’s.  We are just here to share His love to each one,” he recalled vividly his father’s advice imbuing him greater sense of understanding the immediacy of time.

“We are living on borrowed time, Driarco, so do what you can accomplish today,” the timeless instruction he’s always reminded of.  He would definitely have that epitaph embossed on his exquisite tombstone as his way of returning the compliment and gesture of gratitude back to his father for such didactic wisdom instilled in his heart.

“Lord God, bless his soul.  Make it whiter than snow.  We commend that You accept his soul as token of his sacrifice and our humble offering, the way You did when Your Son expired on the cross dying for our sins in Calvary,” he finally come into his senses breaking his long silence on the phone with silvery tears now falling freely from his eyes to the cheek touching gently his whiskers as they flowed down.  The words were sincere and earnest, full of entreaty coming only from the heart of a religious convert.

“Amen, amen and amen,” his mother intoned at the other end.  Cerebral death, she qualified was the cause of Clioneo’s untimely death.  That after relating how in five straight long hours, his brain didn’t register any semblance of activity as shown in anElectroencephalogram administered by attending physicians after he was brought  by friends to a government hospital.

“Cardiac arrest before passing away is the clearer and most logical explanation then,” Driarco concluded listening to the graphic narrative reconstruction of the incident – rare drinking spree with friends spiced up with songs, humor, anecdotes  and stories; no questions whatsoever until they called it a night at nine thirty p.m. before separating their ways, probably leaving the poor Nong Clioneo on his seat where he perhaps caught his last bated breath.

Or who knows the Grim Reaper striking under cover of darkness with stillness of the night as mute witness did the favor harvesting him while on his way home.

“But there were no indications of foul play, he learned from his mother,” the idea further aggravating his confusion on the issue all the more.

“Strange and incredibly even more than fiction,” is all he could utter summarizing thus far the event surrounding the circumstances.

“Clearly constituting legal death then in jurisprudence it seems,” he further ventured without any slightest hint surrounding  his father’s mysterious death.

“Any conduct then of post mortem?” explored Driarco taking aback her mother.

“Pardon me . . . !” she retorted.

“I’m sorry.  I mean I got your point and that explain everything,” he rectified himself avoiding pricking her innocence and securing her from any untoward complications given her fragile health his unfounded theory might cause and drag her into.  Some other time maybe when all is set after an inquest have been conducted to get into the bottom of the incident.  Besides, there’s that time-tested tradition of honoring the dead first whose premium over other practices has been religiously observed and followed to the letter over the decades.

“There’s definitely time for everything as there is time for every season.  For now it’s the moment to grieve and remain silent unless you wish to be cursed,” his reflection on the matter taught him.

“Be sure then to catch the first flight tomorrow so you can hug your father first before others will do,” she reminded.

“Yes please, before you put him in the casket,” he requested.

“God bless then!  Take care and I love you, son,” she ended dropping off the telephone back to its receiver.

What a revelation it has been as Driarco dropped back on his bed for needed  rest.   Fixing his gaze to the ceiling, various images were playing on his mind but can’t exactly figure out what precisely happened and who could have done it.  With consoling thought that the devil who perpetrated his death would soon be confused and have his day full when he comes back home finally lulled him to sleep.  So be it, the wall clock seemed to agree as it stroked exactly twelve o’ clock midnight.

It was so far the longest night for Driarco as he remained sleepless till the dawn of the day cracks.  How could he afford sleeping anyway with his head reeling over the incident.  Wasting no time, he hurriedly packed his things up checking all important documents are secured and in place before dumping them at the back seat of  his Chevrolet.

Handing his personal letter to his superior through his ever loyal driver Nilo, he finally bid adieu St. Peter Church, his first ever parish assignment at suburbs in Kaohsiung.

Soon he passed by Taichung maybe halfway before reaching Taipei’s airport.  Along the road are beautiful sceneries from vast track and verdant rice fields to agricultural industries like piggery and poultry, beautiful bridges, colorful Cinderella like palaces, pagodas atop mountains.  The cold breeze caressing his face somehow provided him peaceful contentment as he was nearly fast reaching Taipei International Airport.

“Two hours more and welcome back to the Philippines,” the thought playing on his mind, excited and in quandary how to cope up accepting reality of  his father’s death.  Taiwan actually is smaller than Mindanao.  Going there is roughly one hour and forty five minutes from Manila to Taipei just like Cagayan de Oro to Manila route.  How it has metamorphosed into an advanced Tiger Economy catching up defanging and leaving behind Japan, South Korea and other Tiger Economies few decades later  is one of the record.  It’s so rich a country that it could even give the run of the money other developed countries have including Mainland China, its erstwhile tormentor and nemesis forcibly driving then Gen. Chiang Kai-shek out from the mainland by the marauding Red Army of Mao Tse-Tung in 1948 to then Formosa re-christened into Taiwan later.  Yes, it’s ironic that Taiwan can still afford claiming that theirs is the legitimate seat of power and that all of the  mainland China is merely their satellite.

It was really never the same again since then as Taiwan proceeding with blistering pace in developing their economy carving a niche as one of the  world’s best.  Their foreign reserve is just too high indicating that it’s how to spend not how to earn their money is  the problem.  It’s the premium they have reaped  after investing so much with all their resources.  But it was not all easy specially when US through Gen. Douglas Mc Arthur provided them windfall of financial assistance in rebuilding and rehabilitating their tattered  economy brought about by the chaos and destruction of war.  But known for their celebrated work ethics they literally rise up from the grave and after taking everything in stride with no non-sense approach for development, are now enjoying all the best the world could offer.

But how exactly they did it is what  Fr. Driarco likes best.

First no non-sense Agrarian Reform starting with land consolidation and titling.  Sorry, but definitely no Stock-Distribution-Option scheme or any subtle insertion of partial agrarian clause favoring the oligarchs characterizing implementation of agrarian reform in the Philippines.  Farmers were given directly the land they could manage, mostly one hectare but not over three hectares.  Implementation was strictly monitored.  Those doing monkey business have their faces splashed the following day in newspapers.  The reason is how could they afford facing their commitment to US if they are not doing their work well.  All is told, Taiwan would soon become so successful that it became the Mecca of Agrarian Reform where people all over the world  study how they did it and hopefully replicate in their respective countries.  This Driarco learned as one of the participants to the 54th Regular Session of Agrarian Reform and Rural Development earlier among others from 26 other countries worldwide imbuing him greater sense of understanding how and what it takes to have sure-fire booming agrarian reform program.

Absolutely no incidence of poverty as the government makes use of all available lands there is for agricultural development.  Thus from Taipei all the way to Kaohsiung, farmlands are seen all over.  There’s just no vacant spaces as farms are developed side by side with big and tall skyscrapers.  Yes in villages, towns and cities!  No mercy that rice paddies are even seen along  the left and right portion of the bridges serving as movable feast in Driarco’s eyes as his automobile is nearing the destination.

Ironically, Taiwan is a typhoon belt area.  Yet they have shown they could manage.  How?  By simply consolidating first the area – uprooting undesirable materials before putting top soil and planting with rice and then constructing huge concrete like drums octopuses serving as water breaker.  The result, vast tracks of lands are secured for good harvest, as water simply cascading all the way to catch-up point back to sea without ever destroying beautifully crafted rice fields along the bridges.  Twenty four hours economy, no traffic jam, effective tax collection – name it and Taiwan is showing they have them all.  And here’s what every government employee could wished for happening to them but don’t at the end of each payday.  Forty five percent of their salary is saved no matter how much they spent!  Simply amazing.  Yes indeed but they did it their own way.

“That we have so much resources than Taiwan and yet have not fully exploited them is the irony.  True indeed that ours is far fertile island but how appalling that we have not developed them,” the thought lingering on his mind.

”It’s because we need men and women who have fertile hearts and  minds to make them productive.  Wasted opportunity translated to bad politics.  That is the real culprit back there at home,” Driarco considered as he boarded Taiwan’s 300 Airbus for Manila.

Nonoy, then and now

He came in like any ordinary mortal – cool, rugged, boyish.  Splashing toothy smile, he’s qualified to be an actor as he said in jest.  You would even almost mistook him as non-entity.  His looks defies that boy-next-door type as he wears very simple attire – ordinary polo and black maong pants; neither he qualifies as new kid in town.  He’s reserved and humility is seen all over his face and his appearance.  There’s glitter of hope in his eyes.  His voice is clear and resonant and good one as singer. There’s magic when he talks, giving you benefits of your doubt on many issues raised.  He has his hands crossed and walks casually as Fr. Feliciano Marquez, SSP blessed the newly inaugurated DBM RO-X Recreation and Conference Center not long ago in DBM RO-X Building, Bulua, Cagayan de Oro City.

Except for an economist and a photographer he brought along, there was no cordon-sanitaire allowing him to move freely.  Not even a member of media was there, except for this writer Dir. Anabelle Atillo of DBM RO-10 invited not to cover the event, but  to perform doxology for the blessing of their new building and sports’ equipment.  I actually performed Josh Groban’s “You Raise Me Up.”  It’s actually a song prayer and I just intoned prayer while instrumental was on mid-way in a song to make it effective and personal Privacy of Nonoy was already secured by Dir. Atillo as she earlier confided that the affair would be held simply and exclusively for the Department away from the peering eyes of the media.

Such was the aura of the man and it’s really uncomplicated and good gesture except that he holds very important and powerful cabinet position, one that is entrusted with the purse of the nation as head of Department of Budget and Management no less, an office any stakeholders and politicians can’t afford to mess up or there would be problem when their budget dries up.  He was unbeaten in his District as Congressman before he was taken as DBM Secretary of PGMA.  He would be back in his District when there would be change of leadership. He is Nonoy, actually a Bicolano term for Dodong or as Bai for Visayan, Dir. Atillo clarified. He would be running actually again as Congressman in his District to resume enacting relevant laws for the country.  He is definitely a future Senator and very strong political timber of the country’s presidency.  He is Secretary Rolando Andaya Jr.

What a heartwarming encounter this writer had with Sec. Andaya. Naturally the occasion was there for us to discuss familiar topics – politics what else - given its trend now.  Among others, possible face-off election of two leading presidential winners to clothe majority mandate and secure peace of the nation.  Most unlikely and no need as the two majority party are seemingly at it, he clarified.  And what about Gibo, it’s just unfortunate that he was trailing way behind Noynoy Aquino and Manny Villar in surveys, he shared.  But the tide of the survey might turn the other way around given Gibo’s performance in as many forum and mock elections conducted among schools and the youth.  This writer and everybody else in the table just agree.  Besides, there’s the political machinery all the way down in different municipalities and barangays not enjoyed by Liberal and Nacionalista party.  Whatever it is, this is a democratic country and Gibo knows an adage  that his loyalty to his party ends when his loyalty to the county begins..

This encounter with Nonoy would definitely be one of its kind and indeed an amazing incident knowing a person like him up and personal. That despite holding such lofty position in the government could easily bend down and reach out for people regardless of persuasion.  That could be treasured in the lifetime but it is hoped that we could meet someday somewhere to continue the discussion. Cheers to Dir. Annabelle Atillo for the unsolicited occasion but turned out very fulfilling one.

Fast forward.  That was few year’s back  and Nonoy as predicted here did become a Congressman in his District.  Problem however that he was implicated to a graft and corruption case specifically on the Malampaya issue as was the Budget Officer back then at the time of Pres. Gloria Macapagal Arroyo.  Let me see how he would handle the issue.

Benigno “Noynoy” Aquino III, won too becoming  Malacañang occupant.  I did not vote for him instead rallied around for Manny Villar.  I even wrote several articles this despite prohibition from media people to maintain impartiality.  But what could I do, the general voting public needs clarification on issues and felt that people in the media should return back the compliment to them hopefully to influence their votes. Wrote too articles against Pnoy.  Unfortunately the latter made it.  Now his turn to fulfill his “Daang Matuwid" "Kayo ang Boss ko!” campaign pledge. Unfortunately though, the result is the other way around after few years occupant of Malacañang.
(19th Entry - January 19,2014)

Waiting

Waiting?  This was my reaction reading the post of Jeff Goins earlier enjoining the participants to take that as subject for the 18^th day.  I could only say “Wow!” in disbelief  knowing that it neither a magical word nor inviting and engrossing to write about.  Might be tried developing anyway  but of course with resistance and reservation as I might not be able to give justice on it spoiling my otherwise feverish write-ups in a row and regular basis of relevant documentaries on social issues of the day.

For the first time I suspected that I might not be able to comply the 500 words minimum requirement as I might mess up and screwed the topic.  But why not, I said in jest at the back of my mind recalling that writers worth his salt should always came out a piece albeit might not really that compelling and reasonable. For isn't this activity is also about free-writing,  just pouring in your thoughts from  the issue on paper never mind how you express it, came the consoling thought  later.

Waiting as patience? Yes, it could be.  This could  really be it and obviously a virtue. But as process treating you to a roller-coaster ride of waiting game could be an inverse.  Sloth, laziness, ineptness, corruption among others are words  that easily come up in my mind associated right away to waiting.  Okay, I think it best  emphasizing that dichotomy to put the word in its proper perspective to clear doubts.  Therefore, yes to waiting as patience and no as waiting game losing valuable time there is otherwise would have been  used  productively.

No problem here with already legislated relevant laws, ordinances and administrative order the likes of traffic lights  and number of servers in government agencies. You may beat the red lights but as experience would see it does no good as accidents happen almost always with motorists doing that. As we can see top news in tri-media belonging on this domain. This therefore needs no further elaboration. I wrote my take on the issue  in one entry submitted (Three Minutes Traffic Solution ironically not receiving a comment from any concerned stakeholders and critics! You should revisit that article to get what I mean from my 10 cents suggestion!)

I personally hate waiting game maybe the reason why I don’t take public transport for my travel around. Sayang, I would say losing that time while you are in transit. Of course, it’s nice to ride a bus especially on long trip like going to Malaybay, Davao, Marawi, Surigao, General Santos City, Saranggani, Lanao provinces, Caraga and Bukidnon napping in between the trip. But no way. This is the reason why I have already four motorcycles as my ever loyal travel companion using them alternately. And yes you might not believe – I’ve been to all cities and provinces mentioned with my bike! Why not? On the contrary you have all pleasure and enjoyment riding a motorbike than PUJ Bus. First, there is beautiful landscape treating your eyes, fresh air no pollution flipping your hair over as it caressed your face. What about food along the road like juicy catfish inihaw, carp, mudfish and other fish from fresh water? Fruits too come in handy giving you wide array of choice on display on makeshift shanties.

My favorite is sweet corn at Maluko at run-away low low prices. I was once in Taipei, Taiwan  in 1991 for two month's study at 54^th Regular Session on Land Reform and Rural Development and I tell you I didn't bought a sweet corn. Why so? The price was just very prohibitive at P70 New Taiwan dollar a piece or an equivalent of P70.00 too (Rate now is higher!), buko was P250.00 a piece. By now a buko must be more than P1,000.00 maybe a piece and sweet corn in between at P500.00 a piece. There too I appreciated how Chinese Taipei value their time. Imagine starting on time each session and meeting. Even such important affair as meeting with high government official, treatment of time is always consistent. Proceeding starts all the way in the absence of the invited guest or top ranking official unlike here in the country where time is sacrificed playing that waiting game of a Mayor, or guest before starting the program! Thanks that I just retired. At least I could now manage with my own time. It was indeed a welcome development freed from the ineptness of public officials caught by that waiting game bug.

How many incidents have I already  ranted concerned offices because of the lousy delivery of basic services. I can’t already count. GSIS, PAG-IBIG, Airport, LGUs, Gaisano Mall and just everywhere– all this have experienced  biting commentary from me. Even ROD and my own DAR were not excluded from my stingy criticism. And why not? Why for instance treat you to one or two to three years waiting game in the case of ROD before they could register the titles. Well the numbers of municipalities involved actually are 21 therefore their delivery lasting that long!

But clients are paying the registration fees and  other requirements. Why that long? With the system now computerized, it is hoped however that the issue is already addressed. In fairness to DAR where I once worked, actually it was not really that long as Claim Folders could be processed that fast depending the availability of all legal documents required. How long?  Maybe a week or two at Municipal level before their submission to provincial and then Regional Office for approval.  Waiting game then follows at the Registry of Deeds giving headaches to claimants of the Title. Hope that ROD could follow what Taiwan did – commercial processing of Title facilitating that fast after paying on demand registration fees and other payments.

PAG-IBIG used to process your claim in less than one hour; ironically would take you 3-5 days because of the volume of claimants.  Significant head-way too is exhibited by GSIS with their paper-less processing of your claim.  Punching in your loan at the designated Kiosk,  you can claim few days later your claim upon approval.  So, it’s not all that helpless to do the work given creativity of some government agencies.

Obviously, there is virtue waiting for your turn.  This after you have done your part. The inverse holds true – your patience flies high when you are treated shabbily by concerned agencies or institution.  Better you bring the case to concerned officers to address it.  And if you are regular traveler requiring each moment counts, then get your own motorbike to manage you going around on your convenience and time.  Doing this, could save you valuable time that could be put into productive use.

(My 18^th entry to My 500 Words Daily Challenge, January 19, 2010)

Hope

What tolerance for education, faith for practicing Christian I agree; hope could be the magic word for writers.  This it seems spring from the endless nights writing all there is that matters in his mind.  Writing is also a lonely battle and no one is allowed to disturb him  as he is pre-occupied waging his thoughts on paper.  This is on regular  basis extending extra time even just to beat the deadline or maybe going even pushing further towards an extra mile crafting whatever master piece he has from his mind.  Such is necessary and important in the making of a writer.  As multi-awardee and veteran writer Lualhati Bautista puts it:

Sentimental Retirement Journey

Jeff got it.  Time to review what so far has been done.  Not that big deal though as I’ve been keeping on track the progress of writing almost all more than 1,000 words per entry.  This might have been natural result of being passionate writer.  That is by the way how I do things.  I just hate not giving my best shot to any project, be it music, writing or work.  Time is of the essence.   We only lived once. But that one chance for me is more than enough.  That if we make use the best there is in everything that comes  along as chance improving yourself putting  things in proper perspective.  I think this is just a normal talent of a writer.  You can’t just run out of words when you sit down and write.  I remember one columnist declaring that you could even write as long and as often as  you want  about a person that if you allow your creativity works.  The inverse holds true. You’re good as the last item you write about.

 

          Focus, this what every writer should do.  As such I think it is good idea to write as many entries you’d like to have in a day. Two pieces maybe enough depending how you squeeze your creative juice. This to cover- up your next entry you feel you’re physically and emotionally drained after hard day’s work.

 

          Here am I sharing to you this piece I earlier wrote re: my retirement from DAR after roughly 29 years in government service was officially approved last Oct. 1, 2013.  The Rationalization Plan like many others prompted me to avail this rare opportunity.  Among others, let's accept it, because of incentives. But personally I'm not counting that much monetary consideration as I'm not really that materialistic.  Besides what would you get out from the modest windfall after deducting all those demandable financial obligation from the government like housing and loan if not merely crumbs that could not even be enough to buy a luxury car which is very prohibitive. Never mind. Unsay ray ihatag nga savings ni Lord mao ray ako.  Ma multicab or trisikad, no probs there No airs too as He knows the best for us. Man chooses but God disposes, remember? Or maybe why not brand new Ford Ranger 4x4 pick up or Chevrolet Colarado as retirement gift. 

 

Personally, I don't have that usual fire attending that forum. But "Angay naa jud ka MARO kay retirees group picture unya ug singsingan ka pa," requested Dada Laure, my friend and personal budget officer! So there I went treating this travel as another regular trekking to neutralize reservation going there what given all those unpredictabilities - exhaustion, weather, danger among abusive drivers on the road - playing at the back of your mind as you travel Baguio-like Bukidnon road. Ug murag mahimo ta miembro ani ni Ecleo of Benevolent Movement cult, the nasty thought too playing in my mind as the traveled progressed my mind speaking out ranting: "Why not Rolex, cash or other stuff of great value the retirees of Africa are receiving from their gov't. instead of this ring.” I'm not sure the author of this compliment. Why in the world  he did not make any consultation on this to get the pulse of concerned retirees themselves! 

This might be it then as I forced myself traveling more than hundred kilometers to DARPO, Malaybalay, Bukidnon and back to CDO that day as usual with my ever reliable Yamaha SZ- 16. The trip started with a breakfast at my favorite Leo Mañus Restaurant in front of new established Condominium at Target Range, Macajalar. There I relished tinula and juicy Remembering Forever Me and other menus at very low prices as if there is no more tomorrow. Service as usual is super customized with matching all smiles from Leo, the humble owner, and all his pretty and accommodating assistants. I'm recommending this restaurant for those who have not that much but would like your stomach of course doubly filled with smorgasbord wide array of Filipino menus from electric eel, lauya, veggies sarisari, pinakbet to his certified juicy Remember Me. For those who don't have money, don't worry. Be happy, you can still have your fill without listing your obligation for as long as you go back and pay what you consumed! O di ba.

 

 Snack were organic sweet corn and exotic fruits as usual along the way at Maluko. Nearing Kalasungay, I parked my motorcycle and have selfies with organic bak-bak and electric eel with friends around turning really electric hearing me belting "Ang probinsayano - guapo buotan kaayo. Ang probinsyano guapo, maalagaron kaninyo . . . . " entertaining them. Capping the journey at DARPO, Malaybalay, was retirees' group picture taking for posterity's sake. Tet-a-tat did not escape the now One Bukidnon Retirees after reuniting an erstwhile divided South and North Bukidnon together as really one province. Hearing collective voices whispering sentimental hope "Where and what would you do next" How about your implied huge bala, what would you do about it?" Of course, the Lord takes care of everything this after listening unsolicited but timely advise on Financial Management from Life gurus around pronto." 

Thank you guys. Time indeed is as fleeting as the wind. And true enough, we can play with money and practically everything but not with time. As that instructive maxim I recalled from a mentor from Agrarian Reform and Rural Development at Taipei, Taiwan back then in 1991 - "Time is just like snowflakes. It melts away while we are even discussing it!"

 Immediacy of time, that's I think what we should be always conscious of as we are all pilgrim of this world. Hopefully as you reached your threshold and before our crossover, we have already delivered our best shot in life.  Paul Tillich, my favorite theologian says it all - " Time is our security, our destiny and the mirror in which we see eternity!" Bless you all. Wrote this reflection arriving home with Mayet creating beautiful colored crepe paper flowers for our Big Red Christmas tree. Hope we could have really hearty and beautiful life this Christmas and beyond. Salamuch! 

(15^th Installment My 500 Words Daily Challenge, January 16, 2014)