June 28, 2005
Where a Kid Can Be a Barge Jumper.
Looking back to my much younger days, I remember an inescapable and all too persuasive TV jingle "Showbiz Pizza: Where A Kid Can Be A Kid!" Man, they’ve got nothing on the Philippines. Here, kids are free to roam wherever the wind blows them, with no parental supervision, no purchase necessary.
A few weeks ago, a rusty old barge docked at the local wharf to deliver rocks (to make cement into for the national road project.) When kids got word, they showed up in droves to experience this temporary playground. At high tide, the kids who can swim (and believe it or not, in this coastal town, there are many who can not) began jumping from the top of the barge, probably twenty feet above the sea.
Those too cowardly to make the jump (myself included) eventually got peer-pressured into taking the plunge. The kids got a kick out of my thunderous "KOWABUNGA" and total lack of ability to execute a proper dive. They demanded more. And I realized there was a greater risk of contracting tetanus from the barge itself than injuring myself jumping. So I swam to shore, climbed back onboard and leapt again. One pint-sized ball of energy, a boy about three years old, must have soared off the top once a minute for as long as the tide allowed.
As to be expected, the bulldozer transferring the rocks to the hauling trucks broke down, so the barge was still at the wharf the next morning. This mechanical problem and the high tide gave plenty of kids another reason to be thankful summer vacation was not yet over. (Although school resumed the following week.) When I pulled up on my bike, the kids hollered "Daniel! ambak!" (jump!) and I was more than happy to oblige their wishes again. I always am. They are the best part of living here.
Fun like this never happens in America. Can you imagine parents allowing kids to leave their supervision for more than a few minutes? Do you know any barge companies that allow their vessels to become jungle gyms, especially without parental supervision? I didn’t think so. The Republic of the Philippines: Where a kid can be a kid!
P.S. Sorry I don't know how to use Photoshop. These photos deserve a bit more POP than I can deliver. And those tokens ain't mine. I found them on a Showbiz fan site. How lame is that?
June 08, 2005
Juan Abud Rest in Peace.
Juan Abud
October 21, 1972-June 3, 2005
I never knew anyone quite like Juan Abud, and certainly neither did anyone else. He was always cheerful and doing something unique (such as making tape sculptures on the bathroom mirror or inventing new words.) He was often the life of the party. Other times, he found a quiet corner, where he could go totally unnoticed.
I never thought I would never be able to hang with Juan again. Sadly but courageously, Juan succumbed to a short battle with brain cancer last Friday night. Everyone who knew him will miss him dearly, and those who never got the chance missed out on knowing a wonderful human being, much too fragile for this planet.
June 01, 2005
Want Not?
For the better part of the past two days, Kid Rock has been blasting from the speakers of my next-door neighbor. I've never heard these particular selections before, but I'm quite certain it's Kid Rock. You see, Rock is a master of self-promotion, and magically inserts his moniker into every verse. The "standby" (used to mean standing by for work, now just means lazy) kids love it and have been exerting more energy than usual, practicing aggressive dance moves.
Looking back to Monday, I visited the ear doctor. I still have mildly uncomfortable pressure in my right ear, caused by my failure to properly equalize on a scuba dive last December. She put me on a strict regimen of gum-chewing, twice daily.
As I was leaving, she said "I saw you at mass yesterday." "Huh?" I replied, as I don’t do mass. "You know," she explained "the mass at the mall." Oh yes, that's right, I was at the mall during mass the day before. The mall is where you go when you need to buy a replacement backpack strap and get it repaired, if your strap has been violently torn off in a motorized tricycle wheel. And it is also where you go for a Sunday morning Tympanogram and a Pure Tone Audiogram (ear tests, both of which I fall well within normal range.)
It also happens to be where many urban dwellers attend mass. The whole thing strikes me a bit weird. In the center of the mall, right outside the supermarket, hundreds of people fight for a spot to see the priest serve mass. Now I don't know much about mass, but I always hear the phrase "Let us put ourselves in the presence of god…" That seems pretty darn tough to do in a shopping mall. There are plenty of non-mass-goers passing through the corridor, tons of nagging children, noise pollution from every shop on the strip, and instead of angelic stained glass windows, the mass-goers can stare at immense banner advertisements for all the products to be bought. I saw one devout looking woman standing under a poster for the movie "Sin City," and another mass-goer leafing through the supermarket circular.
So I asked my doctor why people go to mass at the mall. She told me it is a matter of convenience. Parents like to take their kids shopping and for lunch at the mall every Sunday. So they can kill two birds with one stone. The shopping begins just as soon as communion has been received. And don't discount basking in the comfort of almighty air-condition. I asked her if she didn't find this convenience contradictory to the concept of making a sacrifice for worship. "Actually, the priest made the same comment yesterday." Ha! Don’t mind the messenger. Just bestow praise for all that western civilization has wrought.
FOR THE TIME BEING, COMMENTS ARE OUT-OF-ORDER. I’VE GOTTEN WAY TO MUCH COMMENT SPAM. SO UNTIL I FIGURE OUT A WAY TO DEFEAT THE SPAMMERS, NOBODY EXCEPT ME CAN SAY ANYTHING.