My father fought for my country in WWII.

Christmas Music

We get lost with the wonderful lights and decorations, the hustle and bustle, the shallow exchange of recycled gifts.

I feel bad about it, too.

But whenever I hear Christmas music, the Carol of the Bells, the jingling and giddy-yap of all merry a gentlemen come ships a sailing, a drummer boy drumming, all on a quiet, silent night, one holy night, for a Babe born in a little town of Bethlehem, oh, I do feel all warm and wonderful,

Today, though, my daughter sang and played on the piano Hallelujah, Hmmm. Pretty intense. And how mind-boggling on a Christmas Day.

Then she played “I wanna build a snowman” and said it’s on Disney’s Christmas playlist. Okay.

Nothing to this post Just enjoying the Christmas music.

Fill in the gaps.

Do I like Star Wars?

Well, like Harrison Ford. you can omit me from the discussion. Enough of the force and Darth Vader for me, especially so when the rise to evil of Anakin disillusioned many a fan that evil could be so fascinating.

Yet, with my daughters, I found myself in sync with the millennials watching the sequel hoping to know whatever happened to Luke Skywalker. Who would not want to know. After all, there is a Jedi in all of us.

The demise of Hans Solo was the last straw. Every one was talking about Ford wanting an end to his character, and I wondered if only I had seen it was a cinematic technique from Oedipus Rex, that the son will slay the father in a place where three roads meet. With Hans, it was on a bridge that hanged over a pit.

Suffice it to say that bringing back the Star Wars characters of my youth fascinated me, even if the new characters are totally millennial in action and disposition. Oh well.

Surprises of surprises, my daughter brought me yesterday to a movie treat called Rogue One. I asked right outside the theater at Century Mall if the movie was starring Baymax? My daughters sighed in disgust. They filled me in that this was a side story in Star Wars.

And I found myself enjoying a rebel group led by a lady, offering their lives, with only courage and resolve, to secure a document from Darth Vader’s Imperial Globe, a document that shows a loophole, or a fault, or the Death Star’s Achilles Heels, that which makes the sinister headquarters vulnerable.

The lady heroine is known as Star Dust, a romantic name given by her parents to a child whose life’s story is as contrary to her poetic alias. She was brought up by a questionable creature after her mother was killed and her father taken. Yet, her child’s longing for father remained, as a star dust does in the vast multitude in the galaxy.

So I found myself loving Star Wars again. And if may mention, to spoil you further, that the force is strong, with the Jedi perhaps descendants of ancient arts born from the cold Himalayas, I don’t know really.

No way to end this piece but to say that “I am one with the force and the force is with me.”

Hope is gone.

I couldn’t get over this desperate message of a teacher. He is bidding the world good-bye. As of this writing, he may be dead, his corpse among the pile celebrated upon by the murdering lust of terminators. A body count? Not needed.

Hope is gone.

That is a statement from a father who wracked his mind how to save his loved ones from the impending massacre for the longest time. Now, there is nowhere to go, no place to hide.

Hope is gone.

I call upon the Powers for help. God in His enormous mercy, spares those who ask for help. So dear God, I pray, and humbly I beg, have mercy. Send your Powers to help these people.

Cracked.

Advent is a season for reflection, the time one reviews one’s self, not simply as preparation for Christmas, but this time and age, when millennials race for their dreams and ambitions their techie/selfie way, this is the one moment they stop to think about their wish lists and their resolutions.

It’s a juvenile thing that I didn’t expect to find my self into. I have had my life and lived it, and I am grateful for the simple and yet stress-laden life. Whose life isn’t, any way?

My meditation though springs not from more desires but from the misgivings friendships has disillusioned me with. I have deleted friends from my life, friends I shared my secrets and my passion with, friends I went running and swimming with, friends I spent hours on the jurassic telephone with, trading tips on this and that, friends I sat on recitals with and shared moments of fun and laughter over dinner tables, pricey or otherwise.

Who would think that someone you trust your life with could be jealous or envious or sour with you, when all the time, you believe that love abounds in that friendship. Exactly how I felt when a friend told me she didn’t like my daughter. Wow. I didn’t know how to take that. Another told me that I must not narrate stories about my daughter not unless she is boarded a plane to jet set the world. I was shocked. Another friend estimated my daughter’s future pay, which she believes will be totally super in comparison to her own child’s pay. How we got fast forward into the future, I didn’t know, but I was fine with the today’s meals, no matter how humble.

And when someone calls me best friend for life but does not return my calls nor messages, comes to me only when she needs me, I think I have to redefine the acronym BFF. It doesn’t sound right.

I am cracked. Honestly, when I decided to end the friendships. there was a pain that pinched my heart. I allowed a few tears to roll down my cheeks. It was for the sadness over the loss of people I thought loved me back. Hu Hu

So, in my melancholic state, I have resolved to start friendships again, with fresh faces from the strangers I meet. There is the newspaper peddler who was surprised I sat beside him for a chat, the grocery cashiers and baggers, the disers. the guards, the mendicant children who got ecstatic over a loaf of bread or the value-pack meals I give them from 7-11.

For a time, I didn’t think of these lowly people as friends. They were just there at the moment. But when I see them again. they become ecstatic, delighted to see me and strike another quick chat about anything under the sun. I indulge them, of course, I realized that I have so much time to pour in a thought or two to people who genuinely listen. These ordinary people are so true, grateful for the little time I was with them, and wish me safe and all right when I say good-bye.

I don’t think I am cracked any more.

My snowflakes.

The event I look forward to this time of the year is my wordpress snowflakes. I am delighted with the scene on my page. Makes me feel the Christmas warmth yet to come, and I wish for my miracle.

Advent is a time of waiting. It is also a time of soul searching for me. The girls are bonafide professionals, serving the country and the people the best ways they know.

I am left home with my melancholic meditations. The garden is therapy for me, especially when the flowers bloom and the butterflies come to kiss.

But lest I become a bonafide recluse, my daughters bring me out to eat, or in this picture, to watch a musical. I love drama. If I wasn’t a teacher then, perhaps I’d been a playwright. Wow. That was then. Not now.