Late last year I had two nieces visiting with me, and whenever they saw me scribbling notes to myself or working on the computer, they asked if I already had a “germ.” They wanted to know how I gathered my thoughts together to shape my Sunday columns.
Their dad was Virgilio “Beer” Flores, a brilliant radio and TV writer, and they always heard him talk about waiting for “the germ.”
Countless such germs gave him the drive and inspiration to write his still unequalled screenplays and scripts for several radio and television sitcoms, such as “Tang Tarang Tang,” which from a hit radio series ripped the box offices apart when it became a movie.
Sudden thought. I miss that man. He was kind, soft-spoken, every inch a gentleman. His humor was spontaneous, never contrived or awkward, never demeaning. He made slapstick classy. Our friendship was priceless.
For the last couple of decades of his life, Beer lived in the United States, married to my BFF. They both knew all my secrets. And they still loved me. When sad times came and I thought my life had fallen apart, they stood by me and helped me pick up the pieces. Blessed!
Reminiscing
Anyway, about the germ.
I don’t know how others do it, but through the week, I write down my thoughts about events and how they affect me, and about conversations with different people. I jot down my take on local or foreign news, real and otherwise.
I record reactions, feelings and opinions. These often cause an avalanche of memories. Sometimes I wonder if I do too much reminiscing. I ask myself, do they care? But I trust that the reader will indulge me. It is nice to remember. While I still can.
And on the day I sit down before my computer and start to “compose,” I review these notes. Some I throw away. Others I keep. Suddenly a light goes on… I guess that’s the “germ.”
It is interesting to see how sometimes my initial feelings change, how first impressions are proven wrong. I am amused as I hit “delete.” Quite often, however, I own up and write about “another lesson learned.”
Disgruntled
This week, my notes have not been pleasant. As I review them, I am disgruntled and frustrated, and a bit disgusted, too.
I was at an intimate dinner for a childhood friend who, with her daughter and grandson, was visiting from Spain. Conversation was light. Of course we did a lot of remembering. Dinner was excellent.
But the guests of honor left pretty early, and not wanting to be party poopers, a few of us stayed on and decided to have one for the road. Okay, I had soda water in a wine glass.
Beside me on the couch, my niece asked, “Are you happy with the way things are? Are you also worried about what’s happening?”
With so much going on, I didn’t know what to say. My point of view, I figured, should be utterly inconsequential to young people today. They are the millennial generation. They think they have it all figured out.
I was quiet. I listened as they discussed the merits of the Rappler case. I remember feeling disquieted when I heard the news, and seeing black protest T-shirts out in the street and fists up in the air did not make me feel any better.
They commented on the legalities. Opinions were divided on that one. And then someone asked, “But what happens to our press freedom?”
The reply unnerved me. “Oh, it’s happened before. We’ll live.”
Really? That’s it?
The frog
After the party, I called my friend. I vented a bit.
And he said, “I hate to say this but I think we have become like the frog in a pot of slowly heating water. It died there because it got so used to the heat that it didn’t see the need to jump before the water boiled.”
Are we getting so accustomed to the new normal that we don’t see what is happening right in front of our eyes? God forbid.
To soothe my mind, I watched a video.
It was about “How to live to be 100 and beyond.” Researcher Julianne Holt Lundstead of Brigham Young University did a study involving thousands of middle-age people. He recorded their daily habits, diets, marital status, etc., and kept the data.
After seven years, she met those “still standing” and came up with a list of factors that reduced their chances of death, from the least to the most powerful.
Clean air was at the bottom. Weight and exercise finished a rung under quitting cigarettes and booze.
The study found that the top two elements were close relationships and social integration.
The first includes people you can call when in need, even for a loan; who will call the doctor for you and sit with you during a crisis.
The top factor is daily interaction not just with family and close friends. It takes into account engaging people, playing bridge or poker, talking to a neighbor, your pastor, or even a child.
Clearly, it tells us to be in the moment.
As people of age, it is easy for us to pick up our toys and withdraw from the game. Or we can stay and play. It’s our choice.
I am sure that health and exercise gurus will have a lot to say. But I don’t care. I like it.
I check the top two results and I tell myself, hey, I may live forever.
