Saturday, December 14, 2013

Simple joys...

...for a simpleton such as I. Yes, I am that. I never quite shook off the 10-year old in me. The thing with retaining that child is getting to a state of happiness is easy-peasy.

Mababaw ang kaligayahan ko. Easy to please, can adjust to any situation with a sense that it's a new adventure, can seek out friends like they were playmates even if they live in a far part of town because, well, play, when you're almost 59 and he is 75, can take the form of verbal jousts (we can't play hit the can anymore or climb trees to gaze at the view, our bodies have turned traitors as far as physical exertions are concerned). Right, Rustie?

Rustie hasn't aged a bit; he hasn't mellowed either. He remains belligerently bull-headed about certain adult themes. Here we are on the 10th of December lunch. His apres-lunch companion has accepted she can't coffee anymore with him but can sip a frap, and, dear barista, please don't be stingy with the cream! After this picture was taken in Imus, Cavite, I had to run off to UP Diliman for the jampacked Handel's Messiah, a story in itself. He waved me off with, "I wish I can go with you, but I will listen to Handel as though I were there with you."

A certain reporter-reviewer I know, who has the initials PAT and organizes concerts now and then, is portrayed in his tux. He's singing, accompanied by a music goddess. Spike-haired companion sings second voice. Doodled the night before Dec. 9.

If you haven't seen the Dustin Hoffmann-directed film Quartet, please do. It features folks like these who live in separate realities of their own, guided by private musical soundtracks. Thank you, Chit Roces Santos, for more pointers on social graces so I can try to be less of a social disaster. All doodles by Vergel O. Santos

I guess I'm this 10-year old who, like Peter Pan, refuses adamantly to be in the exalted ranks of mature persons who own property, hold steadfastly to jobs, have a car or maybe two or three parked in their carports in exclusive villages, buy the latest accoutrements that begin with a small "i" and other similar adult ways--the very thought of them, aray! a pain in my fat ass. Maybe 'tis the reason I can't live with a materialist or pragmatic philosophy but only agree on the analysis of the great social divides. Where does that put outsiders, i.e., kids like me?

Sometimes that can be dangerous, a playmate in my autumn years warned me. Because once a child is crossed, s/he reacts with the fury of a child, too.

Korek siya dyan!

But since this is that wonderful time of the year, I'm gonna let many things pass, forgive myself as I forgive others. Christmas and Easter tide are the best times for those.

Here's to ice cream man Jojo who has made the Kapitolyo-Pineda barangays in Pasig his work area. Every afternoon he pushes a stainless steel cart. Inside are pools of ube and cheese ice cream. The flavors change daily. Here's to milky and sunny days ahead! Life with love is beautiful.

Jojo, the ice cream man who brings joy to the children of public schools in Barangay Pineda and to one person in adjacent Kapitolyo. See you again, Jojo who evokes pictures of Clausy Ho! Ho! Ho! whenever I hear his bell tinkle in mid-afternoon.

Ice cream man's, ice cream cans, glass of ice cream photos by lactose-intolerant but defiant Babeth
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