A Thousand Marbles

The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it's the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it's the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.

A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the study with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a typical Saturday morning, turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it. I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net.

Along the way, I came across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice. You know the kind; he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business. He was telling whomever he was talking with something about "a thousand marbles." I was intrigued and stopped to listen.

"Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure they pay you well but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. Too bad you missed your daughter's dance recital." He continued, "Let me tell you something Tom, something that has helped me keep a good perspective on my own priorities." And that's when he began to explain his theory of a "thousand marbles."

"You see, I sat down one day and did a little math. The average person lives about 75 years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about 75 years. Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3900, which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime." "Now, stick with me, Tom, I'm getting to the important part." "It took me until I was 55 years old to think about all this in any detail"; he went on, "and by that time I had lived through over 2800 Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived to be 75, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy."

"So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round up 1000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside of a large, clear plastic container. Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out." "I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focus more on the important things in life." There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight."

"Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure that if I make it until next Saturday then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time." "It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on the band. 75 year Old Man, this is K9NZQ, clear and going, good morning!"

You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work on the next club newsletter. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss. "C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to breakfast." "What brought this on?" she asked with a smile. "Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time since we spent Saturday together with the kids. Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we're out?

I need to buy some marbles....

www.llerrah.com/thousandmarbles.htm

Unexplained phenomena

Inexplicable things bother me. It’s those random, chronic silly little details, mannerisms, events, accepted but incomprehensible. But no one bothers to explain or ask why. Maybe it’s the mole on my forehead. Maybe it’s from lack of sleep and over-analyzing everything. Maybe I am indeed kooky. But do you ever stop to wonder why some things are and why do we let it grow and fester and the next thing we know, it’s got a life of its own, like some infectious disease. There are things that defy explanation that nags me endlessly. Here’s my current list:

• Why “me” not “I”? I’m sure you got at least one text message like this---“d2 na me wer na u”, or “go lang me sa SM”, “busy lang me” then it mutated and now I actually hear it being said. “Buy lang me sa 7-11”, “paid na me this morning”. Where did this come from? I can’t even say that it shortens a sentence! It’s getting pervasive like the weird adding of the silent H in everything from “ubeh” to “Anahbelle”. My co-worker, Tomas, signs his name as Thom (ewwwww)! Whoever invented this and thought it’s cute, I hope you would grow a huge boil in your armpits. Meanwhile, cry na lang me! :(

• The white supremacy. Whitening products are all over the place. Look at the billboards with women showing off their white, flawless armpits. And Juday on TV, proud of her white elbows, knees, back, and face. Another set of celebs telling us that nothing touch their [fair, white] skin but Belo! With the deluge of whitening products to whiten the face, body, armpits, even food supplements we should have erased the brown race by now. My neighbor who used to be a morena has now a delicate pinkish white complexion that looks like the underbelly of a fish. I see women in the streets with white/reddish faces---like they were skinned and left to burn under the noontime sun; weird thing is, their necks are brown! Aside from papaya soap, does eating achara could turn our skin white, too?

• The photo menace: the V for sungay! While the Nazi had the Hitler salute, the Japanese have the trademark “peace sign” in every photo op, we have the devil’s horn by the way of the V sign. I can’t explain it or why I even do it occasionally. An American friend once asked me what it meant…I just said that maybe it’s from a need to pass blame and say---the devil made me do it and look, HERE HE IS! V sign and click!

• Naked men in webcams. I can’t explain why there are men who invite you to view their webcams and there he is in all his naked glory! Their profiles are also filled with their naked or half-naked photos. What did you eat to make you think it’s sexy? Jessica Zafra was right when she said it on her radio show that when men see a naked woman, they become silent. But when women see a naked man, they laugh! Totoo nga! Unless you’re a male underwear model, please keep your clothes on. Maawa ka sa makaka-view sa ‘yo! Sorry, boys!

• The flock that go to the women’s toilet. Often discussed but even as a woman, I can’t explain it myself why anytime, anywhere, anyplace, if one goes, all the ladies have to go too. Why is that? They say we gossip about the men left behind but isn’t it a better strategy to let one stay behind to listen in to what they say about us?

There is a great deal of unexplained phenomena from “why do men have nipples?” to “why are there still people who believe Erap is innocent of plunder?” I must share though, one mind boggling thing that drives all those around me bonkers: why I have closets full of clothes and yet, claim to have nothing to wear? I know. It baffles me, too.

The funky Amy Winehouse

Who wouldn’t have heard of Amy Winehouse by now? She’s all over the news, not only because she won 5 Grammy’s last week, but because of her self-destructive habits, her jailbird hubby who traded her signed photos for heroin in prison. It’s been a while since I watch the MTV Channel that I didn’t know who Amy Winehouse was, until about 3 weeks ago. I heard “Rehab” on the radio, and was captivated. Her voice reminds me of Billie Holiday, one of my favorite jazz/blues singers of all time; and I love the funky, bluesy melody of the song. Downloaded the song from Limewire and it was the first time I learned of the artist’s name---Amy Winehouse. I listened to her other songs, and this is one of my favorite, “Wake up Alone”. Let’s hope that Amy Winehouse would shape up soon and clean up her act, and wouldn’t suffer the same tragic fate as Billie Holiday.

On being single

One late Tuesday morning, I hurriedly stopped by at Starbucks in my office building. It was a stressful drive from Sucat to Ortigas and I was dying for a hot latte. Latte in hand, I headed for the door when someone caught my eye. Sitting in a black sofa was a slim woman in her early thirties. She was casually dressed in khaki shorts, white t-shirt, and running shoes. A white gold wedding band graced her ring finger, which held a broadsheet she was reading. The woman's baby boy was sleeping in her lap.

For days, I thought about my reaction to this scene. Looking at them, I felt emotion swell from my chest and throat, and brought tears to my eyes. Why??? (I was not PMS-ing, thank you!)

Someone inside me that morning---wanted to be that woman. To wake up and put on shorts and t-shirt on a weekday. To be free of the need to work outside the home full-time. To be able to sit in a Starbucks at 10am, drink latte, hold my child, and read the paper. I don't know her story, but what I saw was a young mother enjoying her life.

I'm a single woman, and it's true that I have a good life...it's not perfect, but it's a good life. I have a healthy family, great friends, and an interesting and rewarding job. But being single is hard sometimes. Most days the kind of companionship I long for in the world, I don't have. This feeling constantly drives me to seek answers from prayers, and the answer I consistently get is: Be patient.

What kind of an answer is that???

I've been patient enough! Should I keep hoping? For how long? I wrestled in prayers with hope and despair, stormed the heavens. But the answer is still the same---Be Patient.

I would comfort myself that some questions only have answers in heaven. People would ask me time and again why I'm not married, as if being single is a sickness that marriage can cure. And I always have a ready answer. But deep inside, at each passing year, I know that the chance of being a mother and wife is slipping farther away. Dark thoughts would sometimes enter my mind...maybe I am not capable of having a deep, committed relationship with a man, or I'm not attractive enough, not charming and intelligent enough, not sexy enough, not submissive at all! And because of that, I’ll be alone forever.

But I've learned to see the battle more clearly and I've found courage to face the future without fear. Whether I have a husband or not, I believe that I have a constant protector and provider. In my darkest hours, when I've come to the end of myself and tasted loneliness past to what I thought I could bear, I pray for strength and courage.

God has made me the woman I am...being single allowed me the opportunity to learn who this woman is. And I'd rather be single forever than be with someone who wants me to be someone else. This is me---Luna, who doesn't resemble Angelina Jolie, doesn't always say the right things, and is bored with sports!

I still have moments of loneliness and disappointment. But I know I've become a woman with greater capacity to love and I continue to struggle to become a better person. As I think back to that morning at Starbucks, I realize that God's gifts come in many forms, but they're all meant to accomplish that same single purpose---shaping me into a woman he created me to be.

The Last Reunion

You've filled completely

this cloudy January day

with reminisces and warm laughter,

chocolate cake and coffee,

a few sips of beer and your brown eyes.

And now unable to sleep

because the day is finally going home

because your sleep has locked me out,

I watched you and wonder.

I know your face by touch when its dark

I know the profile of your sleeping face,

the sound of your sleeping.

Sometimes, I think you were all sound---

kicking free the covers,

switching off the lights,

moving about in the bathroom,

lighting a cigarette.

I know the plains and length of your body

the movement of your eyelids when you dream

the measure of your breathing.

I have total recall of you

and this reunion will close the chapter

of memories kept in the deep recesses of my mind.

It's quiet now.

Only the clock

moving towards rejection tomorrow

breaks the stillness.