When A Daughter Runs Away

She just left.

No explanations, no trace.

Perhaps so afraid of consequences, of failed expectations.

A deeply sorrowful mother weary from much crying,

yearning
for a relationship that could have been far less distant.

A very young sister so confused,

praying, hoping, wishing,

for that important part of her to come back.

A distressed father

who traveled all the way north in search for her.

And failing. 

A family now deeply longs
for that joy found only in that embrace

from the daughter who ran away.

Obliterate The Competition

A few weeks ago I had to retrieve a phone at a shop after its failed repair attempt. Since it was Cecille who turned it in and little information was on the claim stub about the store, I had to ask for directions.

An outlet store of a very popular Finnish brand was the first one I saw. Huge and very prominent, I had this impression they had “the” presence and will most probably know the ins and outs of anything that is cellular phone in this their territory. Was I so wrong.

It has instantly become apparent that they have “Obliterate The Competition” as their mission statement. They could have just told me off instead of giving me a litany of how crap the model of phone I was using, of why the its manufacturer has left the Philippines, etc.... I was there to retrieve a phone, not to solicit bad news.

Crap is already a given otherwise I would not have this phone repaired on the first place. But is it necessary to make it look like I was the lousy one for having this lousy phone? Do I have to be embarrassed openly for my choices?

I can see two things happening now. First, I will not buy a phone at this particular outlet even if they have the best deal in town or even the whole country for that matter.

Secondly, I will seriously consider Korean before even thinking Finnish. Perhaps I would have instantly replaced this American model with a Finnish brand if I hadn't been turned off by bad salesmanship.

I believe that the most effective come-on does not hinge itself on animosity but rather on how we are willing to walk the extra mile. It is good manners that always bring people back.

Sadly, so many I know are focused on “Obliterating the Competition” not only in their business but in their private lives and relationships. And so their own sadness and anxiety flows out in conversations that stress those they talk with.

Oh yes, that “lousy” phone did get repaired eventually, by a friend who insisted on not looking at “lousy” but on just making it work. And it now works great.

No wonder then why his business keeps growing by the day. PHONETHICS is his shop and I can see the emphasis on Ethics. Truly, here is one who would gladly walk that extra mile.

Photo Credit: Thomas Hawk @ Flickr

Relaxation And The Evening News

I just do not get it.

Most people I know, after a stressful day at work, would still turn on the local evening news. More stress to get over the initial stress?

Here in the Philppines, evening news is synonymous to bad news. For some unexplained reason, news will not be news if it isn't bad. Is it because bad is enlightening?

And the evening news will always be followed by soap operas dwelling on more bad news: intrigues, oppression, victimization, corruption, rape, scandal and all other negatives one can think of. Is it because bad sells?

Still people stay tuned.

Does all this suggest that seeing people worse off than ourselves makes for a relaxing situation? That they are the one in a fix and not us should make us feel better? That the resounding misery around us qualifies for entertainment?

So what does all this make of us?

Anne Murray once did a song titled "A Little Good News". Utopian? Maybe.

But all this bad news on TV sure makes for more wishing.

Photo Credit: CarbonNYC@Flickr

Super Dad

 Sometimes I just don't realize how much I try to be Super Dad. I found this out the other day during my weekly laundry encounter.

We do not own a modern load-and-leave washing machine, one that is peppered by buttons and has a mind of its own. Ours is the basic model that requires so much elbow grease for a really clean wash. Indeed, doing laundry in this house is one tough job.

Amazingly, as tough as it seems to be, in between this washing and rinsing contest I was able to prepare lunch, organized math and writing practice work for Carmella, checked her previous work, fix the bed, changed the sheets, wash the dishes, prepare the daughter for her bath, chat with her about recent discoveries, has set the table, watered the plants and do light dusting.

But in spite of the lack of focus on a particular task, my laundry will still turn out smelling clean and fresh. I must have been created to be good at this.

Recently my good friend Jon briefly experienced being in my situation. He is my biking mentor, my ride buddy and it was surprisingly enriching talking about housework with him while enjoying our favorite sport. I can sense his special joy in walking this particular mile for his family.

It was also during this time when I discovered that this man cooks a mean beef stew, something I would have not probably known if not for that moment of being in his zone when he did a Super Dad. A great mountain biker he is but being a good cook is a pleasant revelation. Indeed, we bring out the best that is in us when we give our best for others.

My brother in law once said that in his eyes I am a true hands-on dad and a morning of suds was all it took for me to really understand what he meant.

A lot of sacrifice is often needed to truly become a part of the weave called family. And perhaps, being a Super Dad, the one who covers as much as he can, the best he can while he can, is a route I am quite familiar with.

To all Super Dad's out there, may your tribe increase!

Photo Credit: www.superman-picture.com/logo/

Reflections

Carmella asked me the other day how long will it be when she turns 18.

I thought it will be good math exercise for her so we began counting the years, comparing the differences in age between her and her favorite cousins, and how old she needs to be before she starts trail riding with me. Homeschooling? Precisely.

Counting the years, however, also brings to mind the finite. As we were going over it, the math exercises made me reflect on my own mortality.

I will be turning 52 in a few months and Carmella 9 a month after me. It will be 9 more years when she turns 18 and perhaps another 8 when she gets married. The 9 may be a stretch but the next 8, if I make it that far, will be a milestone. It will be a great blessing to be there for that next 8 years.

Sadly, thinking about those numbers made me imagine what I might miss.

I may no longer be there during the best days of her life, when she begins fulfilling her dreams.

I may no longer be there when she deals with the stages of falling in love and then, finally, seeing her off to start a family of her own.

I may no longer be there to see her firstborn.

I may no longer be there to hear her children laugh, play with them, shower them treats and feel their love through their hugs.

I may no longer be there to tell them stories of their mom's courage as she fought Leukemia.

Sobering thoughts, really.

But sobering they may be, thoughts of the finite can also lead one to pursue a determined effort to treasure and make the most of what we have, of the time still at hand. Truly, they are more precious than gold.

I may only have the now, the now to cherish each and every moment Carmella is with me. But it will be my legacy, my gold.

Yes, mortality makes for even a greater reason to love, to make the most of life, to be forever thankful that I have what I have.

And making the most of my present I will.

Fiercely.

The Push

For the past week I was in a slump.

I was not thinking well.

I was feeling sorry for myself because my projects did not pan out as I hoped they would.

I had a hard time thinking of what to write in this blog, which is probably the consequence of the above.

I was not riding my bike as often as I want which really distressed me a lot.

And yesterday, I got my Electrocardiogram results. The doctor saw something that shouldn't normally be there and so requested an Echocardiogram. This compounded the sulking even more.

Yes, I was not a pleasant person to be with. Period.

Then this morning I came across a video of  the late Gabrielle Bouliane.

In the midst of all our heart aches and frustrations, truly, there is still so much to be thankful for.......

Photo credit: iiana@flicker

Of friends and friendships

After my last blog, I realized that I never really set big things for myself. Indeed, I never challenged myself worthy to be an example.

So the other day saw me finish my first 100 kilometers on my trusty mountain bike. It was total struggle. In fact, two days after the ride and it was still difficult having to sit. Everything was sore as sore can be.

But rise to the challenge I did.Yes there were moments of tremendous pain, of nearly giving up. But I pedaled and pedaled with all that I got.

It was also the first time I was out wearing cleats. I was clipped-in for most of the 100 kilometer trek. There was always the chance of falling over because I am, literally, attached to the bike. But fall I did not. That monkey is now off my back.

Looking back, I realized the one thing that shadowed all these: true friendship.

I was able to go clipless because a good friend gave me his pedal.

I made it clipped because another mate gave me a brand new pair of cleats to use with my new clipless pedal.

I never had problems with sweat running down my eyes because a buddy gave me a head gear that helps absorb sweat.

I was not the strongest and so I was constantly at the end. But everybody stopped to wait to check if I was alright.

I now know what else I am capable of accomplishing and will enjoy mountain biking even more because of friends who made sure I will make the most of this ride.

Finally, I made it through my first 100 because I have friends who rode with me to the finish.

And surely, I will achieve bigger things this year, both in and out of my chosen sport, because I am in the company of those who think I mattered.