Thinking Through the Beer

Dec. 24, 2011

I just had a beer at Millenium Park, by the sea wall, in the market area. A gay guy I know came up to me and asked how many beers I was buying. "Just one." I replied. He was with about 12 other guys and I was thinking that he wanted me to buy for the whole group. Though many people here think I am rich and can afford whatever they ask for, I spend money judiciously and I definitely don't contribute to something as useless as a bunch of guys getting drunk together while their families are home with nothing to eat but rice. It happens, all-to frequently. And I use my money for our family, not for pleasing those who want to capitalize on the "rich" guy. I took my beer and walked away, toward the sea. When I walked back a little while later, he said something else and then I heard him say, to the group of guys he was drinking with, "... or else I will tell your wife" and then he let out  a chuckle.

I think he had a few more than was good for him. I was a little pissed at his "joke", and was tempted to call him on it. I said nothing and walked away. If I see him by himself on a sober afternoon, I will pull him aside and ask about the substance of his threat.

My wife would tell me that I should not do such things and that I should just let it drop. I might. Probably not, though.

Confrontations are rare here and when one does occur, drinking usually plays a part, as it often does in the United States (and probably the world over). However, I feel much safer here, day or night, than I have ever felt in the places I've lived or frequented in the U.S.

Poop Hits the Diaper Here; Shit Hits the Fan in Mindanao

It's Saturday evening, the seventeenth of December. Shane is sitting in my lap and we are watching children's videos: Barney, Sesame Street, the ABC song, Old Macdonald, etc. I'm kind of burned out on it myself. Shane makes no complaint. In fact, she asks for the same ones over and over. I suppose kids are programmed that way, to facilitate learning. It's funny, even though the videos and songs have worn an all-to-familiar groove in my grey matter, I still enjoy Shane's delight over them. And she loves to get me involved. She takes my hands and makes them clap or  wraps my arms around her tummy or hugs my arms. She loves to have that sort of contact, many times a day.

We just got back from Millennium Park, which sits next to the sea wall, on the other side of the market. I took her there so she could run and play. I bought a beer at one of the outdoor shops and talked with the owner for while.

Today started on the tail end of a typhoon which hit Mindanao, the big island south of us, pretty hard. A subdivision was wiped out and all it's occupants were killed when a river overflowed its banks. The homes were built on low ground. Over 100 died.

We are very fortunate here. Although we get lots of rain and a fair amount of wind, during a typhoon, we get much less than the brunt of the storm has to offer, as we are protected on the east side by the mountains in the center of the island, and on the west by the island of Negros, which has mountains up to 10,000 feet.

The diminutive waves slam against the seawall: nothing more than a reminder of what could be and what others suffer through.

Ahem. Excuse me. I zoned out for a minute. I was watching India Arie sing the alphabet song with Elmo, on a Sesame Street video. That lady has class and beauty and a great voice and she moves like silk in a soft breeze. Elmo's eyes were bugging out the whole time. It's the way he is made: eyeballs sewn on the outside of his furry head. My eyes returned to their sockets shortly after the video ended. But then Nora Jones sang about the letter "Y" and.... Never mind.

I just brought Shane back from the bathroom and changed her diaper. She had said, "Libang, hon", which means she pooped. She is very good about letting us know. "Elmo's Potty Time", was the video playing when we got back.What timing. I think it's a cute video, but then, my sense of humor sits close to the bottom of the barrel. Here's the link, in case it's something that interests you.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PqLMcyUFrSA&feature=BFa&list=PL411188CB5E494C57&lf=rellist

Late Night Rambler

Its 2:45AM. Long past midnight. Emelie came back from the disco about an hour ago. She's the secretary of the organization to raise money for the upkeep of the chapel in her little citio, Combalbag. Once a year, they hold the disco. I was there last year. I danced until my lungs hurt, charged with the heady excitement of mood, music and movement, until my wife pulled the plug. "You danced like a cow that just broke free of its chains" she told me. She brought me back to myself with that one! We laughed all the way down the hill to her house.

There is nothing unusual about my time spent here in the Philippines but every day feels like a special event. I wonder if this is because I am in a foreign country or because of the life style I've chosen to live. There is irony in the fact that I have always thought of settling down and having kids as a very boring way to live your life. Next to being dead; just passing the time until that final moment.

And now? Well, life is damn exciting having two teenage boys and a two year-old girl to watch after. I enjoy it to the same degree that I dreaded the thought of it for all those years of my life. Interesting how my perceptions got in the way of experiencing a part of life so wonderful. Got any more misconceptions, Mr. Schroeder? I'm sure I do. Ha!

I spent the evening, with the little one, in our internet cafe. On a thin pad designed for one, the two of us huddled close together between the money table and the wall. Shane wrapped herself around one leg of the table as if it was a life preserver. We listened to smooth jazz on our office computer. I'd had enough of Barney, Old MacDonald, The ABC song and such. (I can't seem to get kid's songs out of my head these days.)

Emelie left us 'on the sneak'. She didn't want Shane to know she was leaving. Since her mother left, over a month ago now, Shane clings to Emelie, the real life preserver in her little life. My wife is wonderful with her. She knows just what to do in almost every situation - in contrast to me.

I have a myopic view of raising kids: make'em laugh, keep them entertained for about 20 years, and let them fill in the gaps when they get old enough to figure out how much I left out. Having never had kids before, I can't say that its a tried and true method. It's just a way I developed and perfected years ago for passing the time with kids until their parents come to pick them up, after I've gotten them wound up tight, silly and bouncing off the walls. Now I get to hang around them long enough to see the results of the mess I created. It ain't pretty. But Emelie steps in and cleans up after me. She gets the kids' heads out of the silly gases that float through the clouds, where I left them. I get a little scolding or just a stern look for it, but it's a small price for bringing order and sanity back to our family.

Well, time for me to return to the mat. I'm tired. Maybe Shane won't do one of her violent, mid-sleep rolls on me tonight. Last night I got slapped in the face with both hands and kicked with one of those little feet that is attached to a tiny, but powerful leg.

Good Night All..

Our Girl

I just read the last three or four posts of mine and realized that I haven't touched on the most important subject in the lives of Emelie and Mark: our girl.

She has lived with us almost a year now. As I've mentioned in one or two previous posts, she and her mother moved in with us after a bout of sickness that resulted in critical weight loss in a tiny, underweight, half-pint with a one year history on this planet, at that time.

Now she's two. Her mom left her. It happened about three weeks ago. The 18 year-old Stefhanie dressed for school, went to town and then took a bus (we suppose) to Cebu City. She never said anything to us. She didn't call or leave a note. I have words that I am keeping to myself. It would do no good for them to appear here in print. All I will say is this: the bitch left. Its good that she is not here for her neck to be the testing ground of my hand strength. Ahem. Nuff about that.

There's a flip side; a brighter side; a side with love and happiness written all over it: Shane is ours. Thanks. We will do our best.