Past and future

Dear 48-year-old me,

I decided to write you this essay to serve as a kind of time capsule for when we’re 20 years older. It’s June 2015 and I’m writing this on a Tuesday evening after inspiration struck me, of all places, in our usual spot—the bathroom. I guess taking a bath is as alone as we can get, and as you know, it’s very rare to have our “alone time” especially these past months of summer.

I’m writing this in the dark in our old room, with (almost-creepy-yet-soothing) classical music serving as background noise. I wonder if you still write the same way, with the same peculiar method, left leg tucked under right knee, with the occasional side glances and momentary distractions. I am certain, though, that the past 20 years have taken their toll on our body. Perhaps our hairline may have inched slowly (or God forbid, rapidly) upward. Perhaps our “dad bod” figure, which I hear is hot right now, has turned into a “dud bod.” Or perhaps you have learned to take time to exercise regularly and have retained the same passion for the outdoors.

I’m assuming that by this time, you now have a family of your own. Maybe two or three children? If I had to guess, the eldest would be around 15 or 16. I remember when we were at that age—rebellious, stubborn, ridden with teen angst. I hope you have a lot of patience for your children. And I pray to God that your wife has a lot of patience for you. You are so fortunate to find someone with whom to bear life’s harsh realities. Hold on to her no matter what. I’m hoping that our parents would still be around 20 years from now. After all, our Lola Inday died at 107 and Papa’s mother died in her late 90s.

Two days ago, our  bunso  started a new chapter in her life—enrolling in medical school. Remember when she decided to end her brief career as an IT professional in Makati, go home to Bicol, and become a doctor? I can imagine a successful medical career for her, following in Papa’s steps. And what of our eldest? Less than two weeks ago, he also went home to Naga, leaving life in Manila to work closer to home. Of course, our parents were elated: The family was once again complete, just like when we were all younger.

At the moment, there is so much happening in our country and the world in general. I know, our troubles today may seem insignificant, distant, or history to you in the future. But remember, it is because of what transpired today that your world is what it is now. Out in the open sea, just a few hours from Palawan, China is rapidly reclaiming land and building military structures. America is beating its chest and saying that it is committed to the defense of our country, but we have yet to see if it will keep its promise. Farther out, thousands of persecuted Rohingya from Burma (Myanmar) are still fleeing a country that does not want them to countries that also do not want them.

The national political scene is heating up with elections less than a year away. Government officials have begun exchanging rhetoric and strong words and hurling accusations at each other. I wonder if their names would still ring a bell 20 years on, or be but footnotes in history books. The economy is improving, but I guess it will take several more years of sustained and equitable growth for meaningful development to really make a lasting impact on vulnerable classes. The good news is that the middle class is growing. Little by little, families from the lower socioeconomic classes are transforming into middle-income families, able to afford decent living and growing into a political base capable of steering political and economic reforms.

Speaking of reforms, I hope that you have had a productive and fruitful career in government service. Twenty years of service ought to be enough for us to make a significant contribution to our city, our region and our nation’s growth. But then again, when duty continues to call, we have to answer. I really hope that you have remained in the government. I say “in the government” and not “for the government” because that’s what we believe in, a government that works for the people. And you, we, work as part of that government in our own little way, introducing seemingly insignificant changes and innovations to how things can be done, all for the hope that our simple actions can positively affect the people we serve. I look forward to those small changes gaining momentum and hopefully becoming part of the system itself.

Look at us, six years on the job and still idealistic, so full of passion despite many unpleasant and discouraging experiences. I just hope that that same passion, that penchant for hope, continues to sustain us throughout our career. People scoffed at us when we decided to make a career in government. Yes, we may have not gotten wealthy, but at least we can sleep soundly at night, knowing that we have fulfilled our duty to help our people. And of course, we have made a million memories exploring our country’s many beautiful attractions. That is reason enough to stay in tourism governance.

If ever you feel worn-out, remember the times when we hiked up the mountain to swim in our waterfalls. Remember the solitude and serenity we felt when we entered the forest, the wild birds singing in symphony. Remember the companionship we forged during the drinking games we held on the white-sand beach of Calaguas under the moonlight.

Remember the sunset at Lahos Island in Caramoan, when streaks of red merged with the golden sky. Remember the resort in Caramoan, when we sat under the canopy of stars, the sand in our feet, and the taste of salt in our mouth.

Perhaps there will be more beautiful memories than what I’ve experienced so far. Perhaps in the next 20 years, we will make more memories than most people make in several lifetimes. Perhaps even greater than the grandeur of nature that we have witnessed during our career is the realization that of all the attractions that our country has to offer, the best is still our people: all 100 million of us.

I hope that you remembered that our job is to ensure that our God-given resources will last for generations to come, and for our countrymen to have gainful jobs based on what is instinctively our best asset—our kindness and generosity as a nation. After all, it is because of our kindness and compassion that we opened our doors to the unwanted Rohingya, as we have done before to people in dire need, regardless of race or religion. Many argue that we are a fractured nation, a broken country. But hold fast to your conviction in the power of hope. There is unity in diversity. Our diversity defines who we are as a nation and a people. Mutual respect for each other, regardless of color, creed, or beliefs, will be the bond that binds us together. And it is a bond that is far stronger that any discord or difference.

We become who we are today because of our past. Perhaps this, what I write to you from your past, can help guide you in the years to come. Or perhaps, this that I write today will guide me to become who I hope to be in the future.

Alec Francis A. Santos, 28, heads Naga City’s tourism and publications offices.