Category Archives: children

Expanding Home, Day 13: Two Family Circles

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Family, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 22, 2023, Paranaque- Traffic in Manila, on Sunday, is about what one would expect: Vehicles can actually move at more than 23 kmh. I got to the Baha’i National Center, in the Santa Ana section of Manila, in less than an hour. I was the first visitor to arrive, and was again warmly greeted by the residents. After a fashion, nearly fifteen other people showed for the devotional, we shared prayers, news from around the Philippines and refreshments. A feisty child alternated between boisterousness and reverence. Several of the Regional Council members were in and out of their own meeting, to dovetail with participating in the devotional.

Gathering at Baha’i National Center of the Philippines, Santa Ana, Manila

It all felt like a gathering at Home Base. It felt like home, and so it will be for the week ahead, especially once I transfer to University College Residences, the redundantly-named, but compact and ecologically-state of the art accommodations, a stone’s-throw from the Center. The ladies who live at the Center, serving as hosts and caretakers, are like younger sisters. The young man who is serving in the Philippine Navy is a mirror of my Navy-veteran son. The parents of the rambunctious little boy could be one of my nephews and nieces-in-law, whose son has gone from unruliness to morphing into a sensitive little man, compassionate about animal welfare and the well-being of his grandfather. The universality of the Baha’i Faith is always borne out by its members, as ordinary, and as flawed, as we sometimes are. It is borne out, as well, by our adherence to the principle: The Oneness of Mankind.

There is something of that, too, in how I have come to see the little community of Airplane Village, the collection of shops, restaurants, small hotels and a bar, that sit opposite the huge operation that is Terminal One, the primary International Terminal of Ninoy Aquino International Airport. The terminal itself has the feel of a family operation. In going back and forth between hotel and the terminal’s ATM (the Philippines is largely, mostly, a cash economy) I have come to be a familiar face to the gate guards and security people-in a good way. They have shown me the shortcuts to and from AV, and are not concerned about checking my passport each and every time I enter the facility.

Going back and forth between Airplane Village and Santa Ana’s Barangay 176, the past few days, is also a mirror of my larger life-somehow managing to fit in at Home Base, with my biological family and with people who make up extended family-across North America and now, in a real sense, across the ocean.

The Earth itself is becoming one big home.

Expanding Home, Day 11: Observations On A Tight Neighbourhood

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Entertainment, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

October 20, 2023, Paranaque- The lady busily puttered about the courtyard and small garden, seemingly unaware of anything other than what was in front of her. To me, watching from a third story window, with appreciation of her diligent work in the afternoon heat, it was reassuring. The people of this largely commercial neighbourhood still had residences scattered among the businesses, and they took care of these, with dignity and a goodly amount of pride. A humble, dignified, graceful woman was, at that point in time, the most beautiful person on Earth.

Four small boys scampered about, in and out of the parking lot, around the four restaurants, three car rental agencies, a bar and the hotel where I am staying. They split themselves up, each one stationed in front of a restaurant, steering clear of the hotel-and of the bar, where the bouncer would have gladly given them a forceful heave-ho. Some realities are understood, intuitively, even by the desperate- especially by the desperate. I sat in Pablo’s, enjoying the pipes of a group of four men who were engaged in karaoke. I was invited to join in, on the English-language songs, but spared them my croaking voice. Listening to their many tunes, in English and in Tagalog, was a splendid way to while away the evening-for me, and for the little one outside, whose nose was pressed to the window. The food was also good.

I do not give money to beggars, no matter how old or young. A few years ago, as you may recall, I tried supporting a man who I thought was an honest entrepreneur, only to have him rebuff my suggestions and up his monetary demands. Lesson learned, and cord cut. The kids are engaging, and appealing-but I know where the money ends up, and it’s not in their pockets. The minder, if he or she could even be called that, waits at a gathering point, collection bag in hand.

Here in the Manila Airport Hotel, there is a constant buzz of guests, hotel staff, cafe workers, travel agents, masseuses and car rental agents. Lines form at the hotel desk and at the cafe counter-and are diligently honoured. No one in the Philippines seems to vaunt self over those in front of the line. I have been in places where that is not the case, but in this country, there is a fair amount of decorum-even on the busy streets, few are they who throw their weight around in traffic-and they are put in their places very quickly, either by the police or by other drivers.

I like this tight little neighbourhood, and will miss it, at least a bit, when I transfer to Santa Ana, nearer to Manila Proper, next week.

Expanding Home, Day 9: The Second Homage

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 18, 2023, Daet– Today was the first of two up and out days: I needed to get to the office of Children International, in a city somewhat south of here, by noon at the latest. So, onto the Naga-bound van it was. Thankfully, I only had my small bag, with journal and prayer book, so I took up little space.

The ride to Naga was easy enough. Van drivers tend to drive fast, are able to tail-gate, without seeming obnoxious about it-(Try that in North America, and see what happens.)-and get to their destinations more quickly than the clean, but hamstrung, buses. I was dealing with runny sunblock, and it would be a while before I could flush my left eye out properly. I made do with closing my eyes and got a cup of coffee, once at Bicol Central Station, in Naga. Right after that, a man came up to me and said I was to follow him to the bus that was headed to the town where CI is located. I don’t know how he knew I was headed there, but no matter-I followed and boarded the correct bus. It took 3 1/2 hours, and I was in communication with CI reps, the entire time. (They did not know I was on the bus, so the theory that I may have been under their surveillance does not jibe.)

At any rate, I met the Children International representative at the bus station, was taken to their offices and met several of the staff, before meeting up with my sponsored youth and his mother. We then went to a Biggs Diner (a Filipino chain), in the city’s gleaming, modern shopping mall, and enjoyed a fine lunch. Then, we went to a department store, and he picked out his gift from me-a colourful pair of basketball shoes. This fulfills a long-time dream of his, as he loves basketball and is in a youth league.

The group of us then got back in the van, and drove to Cagsawa Historical Site. Here, there are the ruins of a church that was destroyed by lava, from Mount Mayon, in 1872. It seems the 1870s and ’80s were an especially active period for Pacific Rim volcanic activity: Krakatao’s seismic eruption took place in 1883.

Mount Mayon, eastern Bicol
The bell tower of Cagsawa’s church. It is the sole structure left standing, from the 1872 lava flow.

After this, I bid farewell to my sponsored youth and to the CI staff. The long bus ride back to Naga went past Mount Asog, nearly an hour due north of Mount Mayon. It, too, was an active volcano in the 19th Century.

Mount Asog (Mount Iriga), Camarines Sur Province

We kept on riding, into the late afternoon, and past the departure of the last bus to Daet. As I would have been the sole passenger, it was just as well. I found a taxi driver who was willing to make the trip-for a reasonable out-and-back fare. By 9:30, I was safely back in Daet and walked the 1 km distance from the Catholic hospital to Mirasol Residences, mostly to stretch, after being seated for 7 1/2 hours.

‘To whom much is given, much is expected’. I will rest well tonight.

Expanding Home, Day 7: Mastering the Ropes, Quickly

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving, Travel

October 16, 2023, Daet, Camarines Norte- Burger chef has not had many older American tourists stop at his stall, near Daet’s central high school. In fact, I was the first one, in his memory. I was willing to take the chance, as the quality of food offered to children and teens matters greatly-at least as much as that offered to adults, if not more. I took the two chili cheeseburgers to go-with a mineral water, but no fries.

From the time I first walked around Daet’s “uptown”, this morning, I became a curiosity to some-especially to very young children. For the most part, though, and thankfully, my picking up on the rhythm and flow of pedestrians dovetailing with motor traffic was most appreciated. There are no traffic signals in this part of town, and no stop signs anywhere. Instead, cars, trucks, motorcycles and tuk-tuks exercise a delicate dance with one another. Pedestrians have their own dance, along the at times narrow sidewalks, or along the edge of the street, when the sidewalks run out-as is the case near a Catholic cemetery, not far from Camarines Norte Provincial University. Crossing the street is a matter of quick judgement, three to five seconds is all that is needed, and everyone is expected to pay full attention, move quickly but gracefully and the flow goes on.

I am grateful to be in the shape where I can still take part in this feature of community life. It is noteworthy that, despite the huge volume of vehicular traffic, there are few accidents and almost no traffic jams. I have not seen anyone hit, as yet. It is as if the collective will has told itself: “This is the hand that we have dealt ourselves-big families, lots of small vehicles and roads that are mostly designed to serve motorcycles and tuk-tuks (tricycles, with side cars attached). Let’s make this work!”

Part of my choosing to be here, in a few sections of one country, for three weeks, rather than a “blow-across the region” tour of several nations, is to prove to self that I can pick up readily on social cues and follow along with the rhythm and flow of several aspects of life in a nation where some things are just done differently. The best thing anyone can say about me would be “He is one of us. He understands and is on our side.” Filipinos are guarded, when it comes to Americans-and probably when it comes to Europeans, as well. The more visitors show respect for the way the locals have adapted to their environment-both natural and social, the more room we give the people to advance, at their own pace and in their own way.

After a healthful fish and tofu dinner, at Rustic Cafe, I took in the early evening scene around the Provincial Capitol, and stopped for a few minutes’ reflection, overlooking the Daet River.

The Daet flows brown, but limpid, from north to south.

I look forward to a robust walk to the sea, after taking care of a few necessaries, tomorrow. The pictures will be included in the next post.

Shani

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 8, 2023- Her smiling countenance is what we have left of her, at least for the time being. It is a sweet smile, and yes, it’s framed by a scantily-clad physique-but so what? SO WHAT? If that is the “crime” that led grown men abduct her, throw her in a truck, strip her naked and have women spit at her, while she was either unconscious or dead, it speaks volumes about the nature of the individuals and groups who are manipulating the Arabs of Palestine-specifically the long-marginalized, “rats in a cage” Arabs of Gaza.

We all know what deprived animals do when they are trapped and cornered. How much worse it is, for human beings-and when their own neighbours, their own chosen leaders, are the ones primarily entrapping them-as a means of stoking hatred towards a selected enemy-who responds in kind. Thus a few women in an unknown village, somewhere in Gaza, spat at the body of a young woman-who was unconscious or dead. Thus were girls, not much younger than she, made to watch-and be put on notice by their elders-that this is what happens to those who disobey the ulama, the imams, the Supreme Leader.

I am slated to leave for another part of the world, in less than a week. Some of my loved ones have urged me to reconsider, given the current situation in Southwest Asia. It is a fair request, and I am keeping a close watch on the situation. This journey, like all my travels on public conveyances, is insured to the hilt. If the situation escalates-which it may, and those sympathetic to the terrorists strike in the part of the world where I am headed, then I am prepared to stay in bounds, spend a few days in San Diego and San Francisco, and come back to live the dream. If the situation stays as it is presently-which it also may, I will take one leg of the flight at a time, and check updates, while in San Diego, then in San Francisco, then in T’aipei, to say nothing of being constantly vigilant, while in the Philippines.

Back to the matter of Shani Louk: She was at a music festival, in the Negev Desert, when she was abducted, taken to Gaza, stripped bare and paraded around a village like a slab of meat. There is little difference between this act, and all the other abductions, killings-on both sides of the border and torture-on both sides of the border AND the brutal attacks at a concert in Manchester, England, in May, 2017-except in the degree of death and destruction. There is little difference in the intent of the terror-mongers in southwest Israel and that of the perpetrators of the September 11, 2001 attacks on the United States-except in the degree of death and destruction.

Like the girls who were made to watch someone, not much older than they, be rendered unconscious, stripped of her clothing and paraded around, in total deshabille, their mothers’ and aunts’ sputum dripping from her body, we can only wonder how the human race got into this mess. Like the survivors of the Holocaust of 1943-45, forced to watch as their family members were herded onto rail cars and sent to “the showers”, never to return, we can only recoil in horror, as it happens again-albeit to a smaller group-so far. Like the innocent people of Gaza, the West Bank and the State of Israel, whose sole crime is living among those who exist by inhaling the stench of neurotically-achieved power, we can only redouble our own resolve to bring those tottering remnants of Byzantine folly to their just retribution. Extremism has begotten extremism-and it’s high time the gauntlet came down.

May Shani Louk be brought home to her mother.

Three Bruces and Two Jerrys

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Entertainment, Inspiration, Social, Striving

October 6, 2023- As the band bantered, this evening at Rafter Eleven, a hand drummer joined and was promptly christened “Jerry, from a band of one two many Bruces”. The context was never explained, but it gave rise to this little story, in my head.

There were once two musically-inclined cousins, Bruce and Jerry. They grew up, close to one another, in Swarthmore, PA, home of a “Little Ivy League” college-which gave the town its name. Bruce wasn’t much of a student, in the usual sense, but he could read music from the age of 3. Jerry, on the other hand, couldn’t tell a G clef from an B sharp, but he could make his guitar sing-from the time he got it, at the age of 5. He was also a book worm, and would make up song lyrics from the things he read-having been first inspired by “Zippity doo dah”, from Walt Disney’s “Song of The South”. He kind of hit a brick wall, when trying to make songs about the Periodic Table of The Elements. That’s where a second Bruce came in. Bruce A. was a classmate of Jerry’s, having moved to Swarthmore with his family, from a small town in Alabama, called Eutaw. Coming from a family of Blues musicians, Bruce A. would sit in on the cousins’ jamming and lend his vocal talents to Jerry’s lyrics. B. A. made up his own songs about hydrogen, oxygen, and neon-and krypton, where his Blues aria about Superman had the Man of Steel tossin’ whole planets around. That brought in Bruce # 3, who was actually a girl.

Brucella Mantooth was a Choctaw girl,from “somewhere in Oklahoma; I think it starts with a T.” That turned out to be Tahlequah, where most everyone else was Cherokee. The reason the Mantooths came to Swarthmore was that B’s mom was a Professor of Native American Studies, at a time when everyone referred to the First Americans simply as “Indians”. Work opportunities for First Nations scholars were few and far between, even in Oklahoma, which used to be called Indian Territory. Swarthmore wanted to make a mark for itself, so the N.A.S. Baccalaureate and Master of Arts programs were started.

Bruce M. could play seven types of drums, from a big “powwow-type” drum to little bongos. She added a dramatic flair to the Superman songs that came from Bruce A.’s head. There were regular jams, in the back yard or garage, of one cousin or another, from the time they were all seven, until they were ten.

One day, Jerry came to a realization: There were one too many Bruces- and only one Jerry. He quietly fussed and fumed about the situation, not letting it get in the way of the band’s activities. Brucella, though, was intuitive-and determined she would find a solution to the problem, without making a big fuss. So, one day, she walked in with a new friend.

Geraldine Spector came from the city-Philly, and not just from anywhere, but from Old City. She was from an old time rock and roll/rhythm and blues family-her uncle invented the “Wall of Sound”, but Jerry was into country music, of all things. It started when she was learning to ride horses, first English style, then Western. With the latter style came a fascination with cowboys, and their music. When Jerry met Bruce M., at a mini-rodeo, the tapes played by Brucella’s Dad in his truck, left the slightly older girl hooked on the genre. The two girls, a year apart in age, became inseparable, and so, the band got its second singer, who could also play a mean keyboard.

As ten and eleven became thirteen and fourteen, the kids’ voices changed, there was a hiatus for that sort of discomfort to pass, and then the group took off again-being a staple at local high school dances-and small music festivals around Philadelphia. They came up with a dance, “Philly Dog”, which got cachet when mentioned in the hit song, “Land of A Thousand Dances”. They did soaring, rock-opera type songs, twangy country tunes about love and loss-and to placate Jerry S’s family, some covers of her aunt’s girl band classics.

There was still one little burr in the saddle: One two many Bruces.

(DISCLAIMER: Any relationship between the characters in this story and real people is purely coincidental.)

“What ARE You?”

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Education, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

October 5, 2023- So asked the little boy, as he tried to wiggle out of his car seat, with the door open, while he waited for his mother to return to the car. I saw my immediate task as making sure he did not manage to fall out of the car. So, my short answer was that I was a helper, whose job was to keep the children safe. That gave him something to ponder-and Mom came back a minute or so later.

Exactly what any of us are, is more spiritual than physical. We are spiritual beings having a physical experience. The physical body is a vessel, that lets us practice and develop spiritual attributes and resist, shed, those limitations borne of insecurity: Lust, greed, fear, rage, insincerity, envy-all that keep us down.

I am, essentially, a spirit living the life of a male human-and glad for every bit of it. That’s how I see myself. How the child mentioned above might see me is an entirely different matter-and based on my Dad’s contention that what people think of me is none of my business, a superfluous one at that. I would safeguard him, or any other child, as the need arises.

It’s been a good week.

Messages

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 4, 2023- When I closed my eyes at this evening’s prayer meeting, I saw a cabin in the woods, with soft, multicoloured lighting outside. After a few more prayers were said, I closed my eyes in reverence again, and saw the dungeon where Baha’u’llah was imprisoned for four months, in 1852. The full meaning of these visions could play out, in terms of my being physically-present in those locations, at some point, or there could be some related meaning, that pertains to something else in my life.

Messages can have “one and seventy meanings”, according to any number of spiritual traditions, including the Teachings of Christ, and those of Baha’u’llah- Who goes further, ascribing such a distinction to every written word in Scripture. Indeed, any time I get an inspirational message about how to spend a day, where to work and where to visit, it takes some contemplation, beforehand and along the course of the day, to be sure that I am maintaining the intended course of action,

The message that came to me, three weeks ago, to accept this week’s work assignment, was very clear: “Do your level best for the two children who will be your primary focus, while also helping with anyone else who needs attention, especially if the classroom teacher is busy elsewhere or is overwhelmed.” This has prepared me for a few instances, such as lunch time, when there has been shortness of staff and I found myself serving as an adhoc monitor. It also falls into my long-held view that every educator in an institution of learning is responsible, to a degree, for the well-being of every student in that environment.

The message that came to me, back in May, regarding my journey to southeast Asia, was to focus strictly on the Philippines-that a longer journey to the region, involving more nations, would happen in a few years. Such guidance can always change, as situations evolve in various aspects of my life and in the wider world. Yes, the dynamics of aging and health are among those aspects-but for now, that part of my life is not fraught with issues. I have three focuses for the upcoming trip: Visiting a sponsored youth, connecting with the Baha’is and a few other friends, and paying homage to those who died at Bataan and Corregidor, as well as to Jose Rizal and,if time allows, Lapu-Lapu, whom I regard as a figure little known in the West-but every bit as important to history as the great chiefs of North America’s First Nations.

Over the next few days, I may receive further insight regarding the matter, but for now, the message is to focus on the children and correct an oversight on a financial matter, relative to health care I received one and two years ago.

Smoke, Scheming and Fatigue

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Education, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

October 3, 2023- More than one child said they were just plain tired- of the smoke from “prescribed burns”, of someone else getting the “last” of a lunch item, or choosing a book they wanted, ahead of them.

More than one adult said they were just plain tired- of the smoke from “prescribed burns”, of people, with agendas contrary to the best interests of children, holding sway.

I am just plain tired- not so much of the smoke from “prescribed burns” (late autumn wildfires are far worse), as from the all-too-transparent schemes of those who think they know exactly how to create a perfect society-just quash the dreams of the common people, and of the rising generations and make everyone toe the line. If people start to catch on, the wire pullers have a plan for that, too-just blame the “other side”.

We, at the ground level are beginning to see that there is no other side-save the puppet masters; indeed, some of us have seen this, for a good long time. My third and fourth grade teachers taught us to reduce fractions to lowest terms. A professor in Graduate School taught us to resolve matters at the lowest possible level. “Keep it simple” ( I will dispense with the odious term ‘stupid’) was something I only mastered late in life, but I’m there now. The more someone tries to complicate things, the more likely it is that a nefarious agenda is afoot. The more someone tries to deflect attention away from themselves, the more likely it is that there is a serious offense being hidden.

Keep an eye on those who are taking advantage of chaos-they may very well be the ones creating it, in the first place.

More Details, Under the October Sky

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 2, 2023- Since the early 2000s, one of my favourite inspirational stories has been “October Sky”, a film adapted from the memoir, “Rocket Boys”. The account of West Virginia coal town youths, inspired by Sputnik I to build rockets of their own, with the support of their high school teachers and principal-and gradually earning the respect of their families, shows that each and every community can produce leaders of thought and invention.

I am working, this week, with a pair of boys who are identified as having special needs. One functions at a basic level; the other, is seen by his peers as a leader and is vibrant and inventive, far beyond his apparent weakness. He will, with strong support, like what he has from his present teacher, rise to enormous heights.

The mind is a superbly equipped vehicle for transcending even the most harrowing disabilities. Penny showed that, in 2006-9, by earning her third Master’s Degree, after being discounted by a far inferior individual-her last supervising principal. Her example has sustained my belief in the human spirit, and will be in my heart, as I meet in two weeks, with a young man I have sponsored for several years, through an international child advocacy agency. He is dedicated to achieving high honours academically and going on to be a credit to his family and community.

I have encountered many such people, across the United States, Canada and western Europe, since 2012. Encouraging them, even in brief encounters and in small ways, has been hugely rewarding. As the scope of my journeys expands, between now and January, 2029, and ongoing contact via Zoom and other virtual means continues, I hope to be able to impart stories of many other rising stars.