Sleep Less, but Life is Richer

Early afternoon and my eyes feel heavy.  Went to bed late and woke up early. Had early morning workout and it’s hard to lift my arms.  Blood sugar was high because I ate late. Yesterday was nice. Spent in LA with cousin Mike. His daughter had a birthday party at Skyzone. Think gymnastics with lots and lots of trampolines. Never really hung out with him before. We worked in the same industry and were almost co-workers.

He was tired yesterday. So tired that he fell asleep texting. Eyes were closed. Head was down. But his hands were tapping away on the IPhone. Snoring away and his hands were still texting. It was  something to Youtube. I passed though. So you will just have to imagine. A Good Guy Mike is. Spent the evening before sleeping in an uncomfortable hospital chair as his wife hooked to an IV getting antibiotics. Ten minutes of sleep for anyone is rough for anyone. Mike is a trooper, though. 

It was nice at Skyzone. So nice I felt jealous. I wanted to jump in the foam  blocks. I wanted to jump in the trampoline and do a jack knife. To do an inverse. To do an aerial. I know it would not be wise, but not sure my body would acquiesce. Mind is willing, but body. . .not so much.

Was asked to bring a walker to my Uncle. He is feeling the effects of years of smoking. False bravado as reality sets in. Can’t breathe. Can’t walk up the stairs. Several hospital visits in the last few months. Jaundiced eyes.  His reality is coming quick to bare.

His sons, my cousins, are going through life. One is son is a new father and I am Godfather. His other son moved to the PI with his family.

Seeing all this Fatherdom it makes me sad. I failed miserably. Won’t go into detail, but I am not proud.

When I look at my brother and his wonderful kids. I look at Dorian, Precie, and Lynn. He is a good man.

As I go to these kiddie birthday parties, when I attend gymnastic and judo competition, when I see the look at their eyes as they hold their Lala and Papas, it brings joy and sadness. Looking at my Uncle as his body struggles, I see that ravages are eased when he walks hold his grandchildren. There are disappointments and angry moments at times with own kids, but he is, they are much the richer. 

Auld Lang Syne

Last week of the year. This one went by fast. Finished some things and still have some stuff left undone. Opened Christmas gifts early today. Just got home from Pasadena tonight. Went to Uncle Alex’s house for family get together. Saw something amazing today. It was at the cemetery. Wish I had charged my phone. Wish I didn’t forget my camera.

All these plots were decorated with Christmas decorations. Visited Tatay and Rochelle today. I can tell someone was there. The flower holder was easy to remove. There was family there today. Actually many, but there was one who I am guessing recently passed. They were all huddled together saying a prayer. Heard Santa Maria a few times. Anyways, I wish you could have seen what I have seen.

Anyways was there only for a little bit. Thought how in a generation or two. They will not be remembered. Maybe except in a picture or two. Just got me a little sad thinking about it. No one will remember Tatay and Rochelle like I did. Thought about Michael. Don’t know if anyone visits him. Thought about Dad. Thought about it, but I didn’t want to dwell on too much. Such is life.

I can understand the importance of Facebook. Connecting with people. Having the Timeline document your thoughts and feelings in the Internet universe. Living in a way that will be electronically be remembered. Visited a few museums this year. Nettercutt, Bowers, LACMA, Japanese, MOCA, and few others. Just taking time to remember the past. Standing and looking at some of the airplanes at Joe Davies. Looking at the vintage cars at the Nettercutt. Visiting Tatay and Rochelle. Rodney and his family will be leaving soon. For real. Felt it today as we were sitting next to each other. Thought about Ron’s friend. He was wearing his purple tie. I wonder what he will do when they are gone

When Rhi, said, “Hi, Uncle Jeff” It made me smile. Thinking of Uncle John and Alex. Thinking of Aunt Flor and Ruth. Thinking of relatives I still haven’t met. Made some promises, well, no resolutions this year. Kept some. Many, but some, still haven’t touched. Proud to say I finally visited Michael. Proud I finally watch Dad’s funeral. Proud that I knocked off a few things on the bucket list. Some, I am did not keep. Visiting Mary and Marv is a big one for me.  Going to a drive in movie and Silent One is another.

Strengthened some relations and let some wane. As the year comes to a close, I am haunted by some words. Auld Lang Syne. Saw some storms a brewing. Between son and mother (not mine). Between Sisters (and inlaws) Between Old Friends and New Ones.

On this Christmas day, can’t help think of Christmas Mass. Eyes closed as the priest gave his homilee. Standing in line waiting to get Communion. Thought of Shazam, Rinnes, Elaine. Thought of Rod, Ron, and Jason. Thought of Mike, Brian, and Mike. Of course my Brother and the family. Mom, Dad. Thought of relatives I have never met and ones I haven’t seen in years. Michelle, Randy, Bobby, Minnie, and Wynnel. Thought of Bambi, Pia, Bee, and Mary. Thought of my friends that I may seen soon  at the wedding. Thought about the Rose.

My mind wanders of the journey I will face ahead. Some alone. Some with others. Some with many.  I would like to think things can change with Em and I. Not sure how to proceed. Anyways, I have been blessed and I just want to thank the Big Smile for everything that I have been given. Also want to thank the Big Smile for taking away what was unnecessary. Thanks. 

Happy Birthday, Mike

Cloudy this morning. Seems fitting for you today. Its your birthday and I want to let you know you are remembered. Only met you once and there was a sadness about it. The look on your face and I remember. Looking back I didn’t really notice then, but I do now. Hard to keep a straight face with all the emotions inside. I know.

You look like Kevin.  He’s an athlete like you. Football player. Spoke to one your mates. He said at half time you would change uniforms to perform during the band. The Arvin alumni band has your photos stream on. Your girlfriend, I assume, is a blond. Reminds me of Amanda. Similar tastes, I guess. Most of my friends were blonds, too.

Don’t know what you had to go through as you were growing up. From the awards I have of you, you were something. Wrestler, football player, drum major. I can see your Honor roll letters. Outstanding Student. Academic Honor Roll 1982. You danced too. You were truly an Alpha.

Spoke to one your mates. He said that if you someone got out of line, you were not afraid to get in their faces. Reminds me of Kevin. Kevin would have the Ultimate Warrior painted on his face when he competed. Not knowing you personally, I can see that. Kevin and I aren’t as musical as you are.  Kevin can dance. Dad was one dancer, too. When I was at Sig Ep parties, I would do my thing.

You probably know this already, but I visited you. A few days before your Halloween. Left some candy for you and one of your neighbors. Sorry it took so long. It took some time to find you. Had to walk up and down each plaque to find you. There was no directory available. Found you I did. I promise to be back before the month is up. Wanted to go today on your birthday, but just wasn’t in the stars. Supposed to snow and rain something fierce today. News has been reporting it. Its cloudy and the weather reporters may be right this time.

Called the school and the counselor remembers you. You must have made quite impression to foster a memory like that. I’m not surprised though. 

Last time I remember speaking about you was when I was AVC Student Body President.  Went to a get together and somehow a lady mentioned your name. She knew of you. Don’t know how or in what context, but it was you. Guess, I wasn’t  ready. Sorry. 

That accident. . .I don’t know how, but I can hear Dad saying, “Why? Why? Why?” He was in the hospital hallway. I know this, but I've never been there. Never went to funeral. Never went to you at the hospital. I was in junior high then and we barely knew each other. Sorry. Wasn't invited. I would have gone. I swear.

The trucker turned in and the rest. . .I’m sorry it happened. I would liked to have known you.

I remember that LA Express T Shirt you gave me. Wore it a few times. USFL, Steve Young. Thank you by the way.

It was a surprise to learn you have half-brother. I am graduating Sage Jr High and then to discover that I have an older brother. Can’t say that I was too happy. Maybe it was the time. Moving from Joshua Hills to a tougher part of the city. Maybe it was Rochelle passing. Maybe it was because I was mad at Dad. I was. Blamed him for many things. Some deserved. Some not. Maybe it was just puberty. Whatever it was, it was no excuse.

Took some pictures of the high school. Also went by the field you played on. Arvin is not a big town. It is farming land. Tiny main street. Not much for big box retail stores. It is a true farm city from what I gathered.  I can still see the statue of the Little Caesar on the building. This was much different city than Los Angeles. Don’t know how Dad got up here, but I will have to ask him when I get the chance. 

Finally saw his funeral. Had it for years and finally watched it. Saw some of our relatives. Minnie and Larry. A few others. There were guards and a procession. I was planning in on taking it to the cemetery and watching it with you.

There was a lady there. Not sure who she is. Don’t really want to know. I am betting it was Dad’s lady friend at the time. Last time I saw Dad, it was at the house before we moved. It was tough. He left and I remember I didn’t want him to go. It would be the last time I would see him. He sent me a text when I was at Garden Grove. It was after a close out. He wanted something and I couldn’t and would send it. It was minor thing and I was hurt and angry and just ready to close the door on things.

I was stupid. He tried and well, it is over now. I was troubled by things that Dad did. Won’t get into it, but I was angry. I have forgiven. Wish I did sooner. People make mistakes and try to fix things. Sometimes these windows close sooner than we expected. My stuff with Em is that way. 

Learned of a funny connection between her and I. Let’s just say, ‘It’s a Small World and God has a plan.”

I digress. I spoke to the counselor and she said she would have stuff ready for me. I can look at yearbooks at the school. Hope to get this done before the New Year gets here. I plan to hit the library there. Maybe get a traffic report on the accident. I would like to see if there were any articles of you in the newspaper. This will take a couple of visits. Perhaps go to the hospital where you stayed. I would really like to get to know you.

Any ways, you are remembered, Happy Birthday, Brother. I love you.

Grilled PBJ

Ingredients: Sliced bread, peanut butter, strawberry preserves, butter

Directions: Heat pan high, spread peanut butter on one slice. Strawberry preserves on another slice. Press together like a typical peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Next proceed to butter the PBJ. Grill sandwich like a grilled cheese sandwich. Serve hot and brings lots of napkin.  Enjoy.

It’s a simple variation on a sandwich classic. With all the extravagance one sees on the Food Channel, it is refreshing to have something simple and yummy.Never been a foodie, but I enjoy a good meal. My waist band can attest to this. However, it took some time to understand what the fascination with the gustatory choices people make.  I would take mom to Filipino restaurant down in the Valley. Never thought it was great food. It was fried, sitting under a heating lamp for a minute and I found it bland.

A Little Goes A Way

Next to it is a Thai place. Its alright, but not my favorite, either. Nopgow on Rancho Vista Blvd would be the place I would go for my last meal. Actually thinking about the food we eat is difficult task. It’s so simple, yet the combination and sequence of preparation are vital. Sure, one can place a two slices of bread in a toaster, spread butter and jelly on them, poof one has sustenance. However, if given a choice between the PBJ I just described and a grilled PBJ, 9 out of 10 will choose the latter.

Rose Buds Come in Many Variations

Our taste buds are peculiar. Most reports say there are mainly four distinct tastes: Sweet, sour, salty, and bitter.  According to webpage from livescience, Tongue map Most scientists agree that there's a fifth distinct taste, called "umami. . .This is the taste of glutamate.  It is common in Japanese foods, particularly kombu, a type of sea vegetable similar to kelp, and in bacon and monosodium glutamate (MSG), which Ikeda isolated and patented.  There's considerable debate about the existence of a sixth taste receptor for fat, too.”

It All Counts

We too often do not consider the incredibly complexities that it takes to feed us. Think about the simple PBJ. I knew one lady ate only PBJ if it was crunchy peanut butter. Another family member hated if either peanut butter or jelly was disproportionate in spread. My nephew prefers just jelly. I like copious amounts of spread on both sides.

Moreover, we often overlook the environment in which our meal is served. It’s quite an incredible balancing act. Think about last time you went out. Did you wait in line to get served? Too long and you get frustrated. No line makes you wonder if the food is good. Did the restaurant have a view or were your sitting in a crowd of people? Was the server nice and did he/she refill your water? Or were they rushed and inattentive? How about the company you kept? A wonderful date or people from work?

Eating is an experience and one we take for granted. Talks of comfort food never really registered until recently. We go to certain restaurants because it builds on good memories. Usually, the food must be good, memorable. Next the service has to meet a certain level of expectation. Everything else, like ambience, mood, company will add and or detract to this memory. Made-with-love post 

Food Memories

It took some time understand why Mom would prefer to eat just Filipino food. My guess is that it brought back memories of home. With the food landscape, Mexican, Chinese, and hamburgers, a nice variations is something other. I mean the food was not the greatest and she admitted this, but she still returns. Like lemmings to the top of the mountain, ready to fall.

Started thinking of my own food comfort zone. When I lived in Boston, there were two places I enjoyed eating. Union with a grilled cheese, tomato, and bacon sandwich. Second place was a pizza place called “A Place To Eat” Their Stanches were incredible. Stanch (pronounced Stahhnch) is a simple Steak and Cheese. Take the first two letters of each word and you get ST(eak) AN(d) CH(eese)—STANCH.

When I left for school, I found myself getting lunch and dinner at these places often.  I was catching the Simpson on the big screen at the Union. Or I was getting home from a late night carousing with friends and the only place open was at the “Place to Eat”

More than Just the Food

Our memory banks fill with good memories with family and friends. When we eat we quickly associate food items to good experiences. Maybe this is the reason for the epidemic of obesity. We long to feel happy again. Certain places, certain foods triggers our happy signals in the brain.

For Me, going on a late night Tommy’s runs I think of singing Air Supply songs with Tammy, Brad, and Corinna on Roscoe Blvd. Rampart Original Tommy’s makes think of Dad original-tommys-simply-best post. Late night Denny's--Its Marc, Brian, Kathleen and others. Nopgow makes me think John Cusack, graduation, and family get-togethers. Roscoe Chicken and Waffle, I think of Jason. Pinks, its Rodney and his family. Odyssey, its high school football and my brother Kevin. Fish Market on 6^th Street makes think of Michelle and the last goodbye night. Cheesecake Factory and Dr Hogly Wogly BBQ stirs memories of LA Fitness. Steer N Stein, its Brad. Farmers Market, I think of my childhood.

Why Ask Why
Now, I’m not so opposed to taking Mom’s to Filipino restaurant, even though it is not the greatest. Just knowing it may bring her good memories I will never understand, I will just smile and go. I can relate because I have my own special restaurants and my own comfort foods.What are your favorites comfort foods? Where are you favorite places to go? And Why? I’d like to know. 

While I Still Got the Time. . .

Last day of my Thirties. Its been a good ride. Been blessed with great family and friends I would die for.  Sun is shining right. Roads are wet right now from last night rains. Listening to the SHeDaisies.  Sitting here in the St Mary’s parking lot. Will be heading to 8:30 am mass. Its been some time since I’ve been to weekday morning mass. 


Lots of things have changed since last year. Lots haven’t. Precie is headed to high school soon, maybe Paraclete. Lynn is steady as always. Angelo blossoming Star Wars fan. We got him the DS Star Wars II game yesterday. He seems a little unsure, but he will find his way. Christopher and Jewel are married. Rod and Shena might be heading to PI after all. Jason is studying still. Luz is laid up. Hurt her back. Sucks. I’ve read Mike and Lani’s stuff on Facebook. Their kids are winning dance contests and the like.

Lately, I’ve been retracing some family history. Did so a couple years ago, but got bit by genealogy bug. Cousin Michelle and Aunt Mary have been updating me on much family history. There is so much I don’t know and still to learn. Scanning old photos and awards and stuff. Been Microfishing old newspapers. Sent some friend request to relatives I have never met and just recently learned. Even looked up my old friend’s birth certificate.

Made a faux pas. Got to get this “adding”, Kuya, Ate, stuff down. Sorry Minnie. Thanks Michelle for educating me. Still have a few things I’ve done and haven’t done yet that I would like to do. I’ve never seen my Father’s funeral. Its been sitting by my VCR, but I haven’t watched it yet. Learned some stuff that I never knew with talking with my mother. Also discovered that my grandfather, Itay, was POW in Korea. It helps to ask.

Been searching stuff about my half-brother Mike. He looks much like Kevin. Will go visit him soon. Not sure when, but sooner than later. This is a definite. Been making contact with some of his old high school friends on FB. Hope certain feelers I threw out will prove fruitful soon. Will head up to Arvin cemetery. Found out someone took a picture of his grave for some website. Can’t tell you how happy to discover this. Wasn't sure how I was going to find him. Got an email and phone call from Mike’s friend.

Made a family tree a couple years ago. Maybe some stuff were transposed in faulty software gremlins. Maybe I wrote it down wrong. Maybe some one misremembed.  Its been an adventure trying to retrace family history. But I am re-doing again. Been Microfishing and sending out emails.

Haven’t been writing lately because I have been in introspection. Research. Taking time percolating questions and re-examining life stuff.  On Facebook, I looked up some pictures of ex-girlfriends. Seen pictures of their kids. It made me wonder, that could have been mine. Elaine, Shell, Mandy.  Then I think, I was an Asshole.

I was wrong. Can never get time back. Never will. Got to live with this. Time is always in pursuit. Guess that's the reason for why I’ve been blogging and recording family history. Just in case. This is all I got to say about that. One of my relatives had a name change. It was not cheap and the emotional meaning behind it. . .well, it was needed. What it took to do this, I understand why and I. . .well. . .this is all I got to say about that. People in our lives that show up and have been there have messages/ answers to questions we may never knew we had.

 A few years ago, diagnosed with CHF. Tried to make conact with Em and Dana. It hasn't worked out like I wished. Life is mysterious twists in turn has its own timing. Got an email from a cousin I haven't thought about in years. Dismissed at first, then the Universe was insistent. Aunt Mary said, "I am your relative." Listen. Since then I've retracing some family history.  It kick started things that are well under way. Not sure where this road will take me, but I am game.

A family reunion is something in the embryonic stages now. Hope it pans out. I’d like to keep in the States, but if it’s the PI, I really need to bone up on my Tagolog and Ilakano. From the missteps I’ve taken, well. Much work needs to be done.

One of my favorite singer is Darius Rucker, formerly of Hootie & the Blowfish.  One song keeps coming to mind the day before BDay.

Each representin’ a million mistakes
The last one still burns, there’s a wish I can make
This time I’m getting’ it right
So I close my eyes and I take a deep breath
And I promise myself in the time I have left

No more excuses and no more me doing things wrong
Life is too short, baby, I’ve wasted ours for too long
And baby from now on

I’m gonna work like I don’t need the money
I’m gonna laugh like I’m not afraid to cry
I’m gonna dance like nobody’s watchin’
I’m gonna love while I still got the time

Mass is starting in a few minutes. To those that read, thank you. Gian, I know where you been. No words advice, but if you are longing for accolades and kudos, do something else. Fame is fickle. OctoMom was the flavor of the month. Awards, ribbons and trophies are nice to have, but the only person that you really need respect from is the one in the mirror. People like and hate you for various reasons. Leave being judged to American Idol contestants, gymnast and beauty queens. Some are known and will never be known. There is simply too much stuff out there that needs doing then worry if others click, "Like." 

I’ve got 300+ stuff on my Sharebucket list. Only have 25% done. Just take care of the six inches in front of your face. The inches we need are everywhere, but we got crawl and scratch for those six inches. (Sorry, this is from the Any Given Sunday Inches Speech) Life has a way of working itself out. To those in my life and those before and soon to come, thank you for being part of my story. Hope to play a good part in yours.

Day at the MOT

Thirty-one days of no Facebook. Got few messages, photo tags, group invitations during this internet sabbatical. It went by fast. May go again. At times, I would find myself automatically typing the "Facebook" web page once I launch my browser. Trained myself to be addicted to this website. I wanted to post some pictures of places visited. Other times, I wanted to get updated with the going on with family and friends. Nothing has really changed in my world since then beginning of the year. Guess I am long longing to be part of a community again.

Don’t know where this comes from, but it has. We all need to feel connected, to be part of something bigger. Yesterday, went to the Museum of Tolerance (MOT) with Sharmaine and her brothers. It was an event. Listened to a Holocaust survivor speak. Shook her hand actually. Wanted to make tactile connection with a real survivor in a dark, dark , dark time in history. Listening and watching her was nice, shaking her hand made it more real. She spoke for 45 minutes straight and I was enthralled. Her story started so innocently and to hear the decline of society happen so quickly, it bothered me.

Before entering the lecture, we stopped by some the interactive internet stuff. Looking up some of the texts, websites, and blogs out there in the world is disturbing to realize such entities still exist. Don’t want to say there is some ugliness in the world because putting it out there may draw some unwanted attention. Really don’t want some of that darkness in my head. The images are truly disturbing. How people can do such stuff to one another?

No one is really clean nor innocent. Admittedly, I was ignorant and I've and acted stupidly before. Trying to break this habit. No, I am not claiming to have found the light. All I am saying is that I am not so quick to label. Can’t speak for others because I don't walk in their shoes. Sitting on the cold concrete stone seats in the mock gas chamber made me feel ill. Looking up at the shower head wondering how people felt. Cold water or poison gas?  People like you and me being exterminated for some misguided belief system.

People have turned a blind eye when injustice and wrongdoing stares them in the face. I think of Kitty Genovese. I think of Zimbardo social psychology experiment. When I imagine being a subject of Milgram’s shock experiment, I am troubled how easy it is for people to lose sight at that the person across from them is part of the same species. Imagine the last time you were at a stoplight when there is a homeless person with cardboard sign asking for money.

Not all of us are created equal. There are obvious and various levels of talents, skills, motivations, and luck each of us possess. Not all of us can dunk. Not all of will be an astrophysicist nor will win a Nobel Peace prize. Not all of us will be President, but to forget that one next to them is not a human being. It is simply awful. Been more and more troubled of the scape-goating tactics of what is wrong in the world. Lately it has been the illegal immigrants that is ruining the country. Before the Chinese and Japanese. Before it was the Jews. Before that it was the Indians. The list goes on.

Found myself distraught by a kid sitting in front of us. He was young kid, maybe 9 or 10. He had the body of thirteen or fourteen year old. We were sitting in a lecture hall listening to the Holocaust survivor tell her story of Auschwitz. She told of how she can remember the smell of the smoke of the crematorium. Her mother and grandmother were sent there days before. The little big boy was fidgeting all around, constantly asking her mom when were they were leaving. He would make a squealing sound like a pig, begging for attention. He would run his hand of her mom’s hair. It reminded me of the flies walking on the faces of children that are starved in some third world country. It is bothersome, but they let it pass. I know she was ignoring him, not giving him the attention he wanted so. She was practiced not to encourage poor behavior. She was much better at it then I would be. Every so often his whispers would drown out what the speaker was saying. Admittedly I want to smack the kid and tell him listen and pay attention.

Then I realized that one of the kids sitting in the row, my relative, with us was playing with his Game boy while she was speaking. This, too, bothered me beyond belief. You see. Earlier he was so adamant about going to the Holocaust exhibit down stairs and getting some kind of plastic card. It was like going on a ride at Disneyland. Now we are here listening to an actual survivor of the dark time, it was a bit infuriating. Playing a game while this was going on. Made me shake my head.

I was learning the meaning of patience. Sometimes we need to put the fear of God to make an impression of some people. We need to effect an emotional response in order make people remember to make an honest impact. Still, I remained silent. A bit disappointed. Decided to use a the honey approach versus the vinegar one. 

I, too, was blind and ignorant. The folly of youth to be not so vested. He does not know nor has he seen such ugliness that people can and have done to others. Listening to the speaker and watching him play the Game boy. In many ways, I hope he never sees what this lady has seen. I hope in many ways that the greatest worry is finding a girlfriend and getting to the next level of that video game. I rather have him suffer these minor setbacks then deal with the horrors of the speaker. When is the next time you will eat? Will you survive through the winter night? Will the search dogs find him and attack him?

I can only wish that the impact of visiting the MOT will have an impact on his life. Hope he never learns the hard lessons of life these other people have faced. Still, there is Hope. “There is always Hope when people remember.” These were the words in green neon lights that were on the walls of the mock gas chamber.

For me, I will remember. I hope he does, too. If the lady in front of me can survive the atrocities, then many others can, too. George Santayana said it this way, “ Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” If we can remember these hard learned lessons, then maybe. . .