Life's Early Lessons Provide Deep Grounding

As we embark on our third year with this blog, we're featuring real-life stories and experiences that keep us grounded. The commitment to serve the community with news - good and bad, but nonetheless enlightening - and news analyses to help in the understanding of issues remains firm and undiluted. We started this blog on July 1, 2019, and three years later, we're still very much at it. (https://filwebchannelmagazine.blogspot.com/2019/07/writing-column-quarter-of-century-on.html) 

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Volume 3, Issue No. 1

OPINION/COMMENTARY

/ News That Fears None, Views That Favor Nobody /

. . . . . A community service of The Filipino Web Channel (TheFilipinoWebChannel@gmail. com) and the Philippine Village Voice (PhilVoiceNews@gmail.com) for the information and understanding of Filipinos and the diverse communities in North America . . . . . .

 

 Our latest as of Monday, July 19, 2021 

~ The harder the struggle, the sweeter the results in overcoming the hurdles. That's an experience worth writing and sharing. Failure to fulfill youthful ambitions because of situations beyond one's control could be inspirational. It fuels hope and moves one to soldier on.

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PURSUING WORLDLY AMBITION - PART 1

Anecdotes From Many Years Ago

By ROMEO P. MARQUEZ

Editor, The Filipino Web Channel

“Find a purpose to serve, not a lifestyle to live.” ― Criss Jami

TORONTO - Something I had never thought would come to be fulfilled was this youthful ambition to go places outside the birth country, literally and figuratively.

Many adolescent minds like mine have had the daring outlook that had seemed unrealistic - join the United States Navy and see the world! 

The conventional thinking was that it was a sure way to accomplish life goals. Besides, the pay, quite meager by today's standards, would lift a family's dire financial straits. 

That notion held so much truth. Families of my cousins in the Philippines felt a certain pride - and a few notches higher in social standing - as soon as their sons got accepted and shipped to San Diego, California for boot camp preparatory to their formal admission in the Navy.

The Navy was a way out of poverty, the key to a good life, and the initial step to fulfilling the American Dream for the entire family. 

I should know. Forbearance, tenacity, and sheer grit had paid off on most of my relatives and neighbors in our small community in Cavite and Quezon.

I was the first one in the family to try to enlist In the Navy, not to chase an ambiguous American Dream, but as a stepping stone to get higher education. A brother followed suit. Unfortunately, my vision was not that good to even qualify. That effectively ended my quest.

The military had a powerful appeal to me. To this day, brilliant military minds are my stimulants. The uniform impressed me. The hard work behind that uniform had a mythic quality that aroused my curiosity. I had wanted to be that person proudly wearing the uniform.

Once graduated from high school, I had trained my sight on getting a slot at the Philippine Military Academy, hoping to be an officer someday. But that too faded from view when the congressman in our Pasay City district said he had already filled up his quota. That crushed me a little.

One prerequisite in entering the academy at that time was a recommendation from your congressman. In my case, that congressman was Eddie Ilarde, the radio broadcaster who had been elected to Congress in his first foray into politics. 

Though frustrated, I did not give up entirely. In college, after the mandatory two-year basic ROTC (Reserve Officers' Training Corps) training, I took the advanced course for another two years. Completing the full four years had made me eligible to join the armed forces as an officer. 

My branch of service then was the paramilitary police force, the Philippine Constabulary, the forerunner of the Philippine National Police. I felt so thrilled to have conquered the hurdles. I was now a probationary second lieutenant. 

Soon after surviving the intense training in Camp John Wilhelm (renamed Camp General Guillermo Nakar in July 1978), my first assignment was as a detachment commander in a rebel-infested town in Bicol. The communist New People's Army was at its height recruiting people to its cause.

That was fine with me. When I was not on duty, I would slip incognito and visit my two uncles and the whole clan in Unisan and Lucena City, Quezon. In Unisan, my cousins would fete me with yellowfin tuna and lobster caught the night before in Tayabas Bay near Marinduque, and bottomless beer and lambanog (coconut wine).

Not long after, disillusionment began to creep in. My ideals as an officer and a gentleman were being eroded by what I had witnessed in the daily running of the detachment.

During one of those quiet evenings keeping watch, I opened up to a trusted member of our squad, a sergeant, about the very low pay. He expressed little sympathy, if at all. He told me not to worry about not being paid a decent salary. "There's always jueteng, sir! We'll get our weekly 'allowance'."

The so-called allowance was actually a bribe. Turn a blind eye and stay deaf to everything and you'd be rewarded with piles of money. That was what it was. 

It kept me thinking. If I was going to raise a family of my own, it would not be like this. The honor I had so coveted of being an officer and a gentleman, in this instance a Constabulary officer, would not be trampled upon, not by this ignoble means.

After completing my tour several months later, I left the Constabulary very much disillusioned by the experience. 

The prestige of being an officer, the regimented life guided by rules and convention, the constant danger of being attacked by communist rebels, the prospect of losing everything - well, they did not merit the sacrifice. (Copyright 2021. All Rights Reserved).