The No-Future Bunch

O, ano, Letty?  What’s next, now that we have no future?”

My friend, Raquel, posed this question to me.  She retired after an impressive and illustrious career at a United Nations agency in charge of rehabilitating troubled nations, among others.  She was picking my brain over what’s up ahead for retirees like us.

Thinking about it, Raquel was right.  Our generation has reached a period in our lives where the statement been there-done that neatly sums it all.

Notice these changes: While the young ones are still trying to carve a name, trekking that uphill climb to fortune and fame, we have hung up our hats in anticipation of retirement bliss.  We’ve stopped making waves.

Show offs?  Negative.   

Beating your drums?  Neither.

We’ve found comfort in enjoying the view from a distance, observing quietly, and dispensing advice, if solicited; oh well, unsolicited, sometimes.


We are not dazzled by what may seem mind-boggling to others.  Money, jewelry, fleet of cars, travel, titles, properties, opulence beyond imagination, what else?  There’s more reassurance if at the end of the day, one can have a restful sleep because we haven’t done anything illegal, dirty or unfair, to ourselves and to those around us.  We are neither imprisoned by possessions and wants. 

 

If you base it on the law of averages, we only have a good decade left, two, if exceptionally strong and fit, to enjoy a fairly healthy life, with critical faculties still functioning and we’re still able to do things on our own, including essential personal hygiene.

Last night, I was jolted by a recurring omission:  I forgot to flash the water closet.  My friend, Maurita, merely shrugged and suggested, “When you’re done, say it aloud, ‘Now, I’m flashing the toilet.’”  It was like a conscious reminder and saying it aloud stirs up some lazy or soon-to-conk-out brain cells to take action on what used to be a spontaneous effort.   

 

Calling another friend, I asked, “Lita Babes, since you’re the more senior ate in our group, do you experience falling eyelashes?”  She squealed heartily, “Dahling, I’m already baffled by my crown of hair gathering in my comb and on the floor, why bother over tumbling eyelashes?” 

What else has changed?  The phone.  It has become a noisy apparatus.  Remember when it used to leave you out of breath, with heart racing to lift the receiver before the party at the other end hangs up?  Those were crazy, funny days.  Now, I imagine all kinds of 911 emergencies (or 117 in Manila) that demand a quick response to find a solution, yet stay calm and unruffled.  “Are you all right?”  I’d ask.  If the reply was affirmative, I’d give out a deep and heaving sigh.  However, if it’s one of those phone solicitations, pushing credit memberships or promos, my standard answer remains “not interested.”

Competing is not tops in our list of priorities.  You realize that what matters more in life is where you finally end up:  Heaven or the netherworld.  You switch perspectives.  You become more tolerant, forgiving, more accommodating, uncomplaining, and appreciative of beauty that elevates the heart and soul.        

School chums Bing Magpayo and Becky Maravilla took us to a handicraft outlet in Sta. Barbara, Iloilo, known for Belgian lace embroidery.  Belgian nuns brought this art to the Philippines and, thank goodness, local Ilonggas are still making hand-embroidered church vestments, shirts, hankies, and table linen.  Beauty in hard work?  Combined with patience, perseverance, and passion.    

Raquel celebrated her birthday by hosting the street kids in her hometown in a fast-food outlet.  There’s no reciprocity here except if you consider the glint in the eyes of these dust-magnet kids who clapped unabashedly at their lucky day.  They laughed heartily when the house mascot hugged them like they truly mattered.

“It filled my day,” exclaimed Raquel.  She also knew the value of teaching the youth to fish in contrast to just being fed.  She put up computer workstations so that they could learn something that could lift them out of misery and even open up new frontiers.  Her satisfaction was palpable.  “Your heart beats with gratefulness for having been given the chance to do something good, something right and free, and just in time,” she said. 

This is happiness experienced in the here and now. 

Someone wrote that as long as you are still breathing, you are here for a reason. You have a purpose to influence others, for the good. That does not come to an end until the day we die.

 Doing something to benefit others becomes a new-found quest.  Something we could think of as a new future, for the so-called futureless bunch. It’s tenable, too.