WHERE do I begin? And no, I’m not going to be talking about how great a love can be. Obviously, it’s not some sweet, old story that is older than the sea.
So, let me start by saying that getting old is like a double-edged sword, although in this day and age, who still carries a sword, and a double-edged one at that?
But let me point out the obvious. The physical decline and health challenges can be real downers. I’m talking about thinning hair, sagging skin, blurred vision, hearing loss, the return of the potbelly, joint pains and backaches. You name it, I’m going through it, and all simultaneously.
The whole thing snuck up on me like a streetwalker late at night in the uptown area, emerging from the shadows with an unintelligible offer.
Perhaps it’s because of these physical discomforts that have made me irritable lately, which, come to think of it, would explain why I now complain constantly. I hardly ever did back in my youth. Okay, that may not be the entire truth, but trust me, it has gotten worse to the point that I am even complaining about where this column is going.
So, I grumble. I whine. I fault-find. A check on all three counts. I am what you might call querulous. I know it’s a fancy-schmancy word, but there’s nothing wrong with being pretentious as long as it doesn’t become a habit.
But I think I have earned the right to call out things that stick out like a sore thumb. I guess that’s one of the advantages of getting ahead in years — that and passing gas in public without caring one bit. It’s the irony of finally seeing the world for what it is after groping in the dark as soon as puberty set in.
Where was I?
Oh yes, the social ills that I witness every day as I walk to and from the office, which, henceforth, will become the subject of my complaints. Did I use “henceforth” correctly? I’m not really sure. But I do like the sound of it, hence the nonchalant insertion into the sentence. I think it makes me sound more scholarly, don’t you think? Someone less plebeian, I suppose.
But yes, there are countless sights, sounds and smells that many people in cars and public vehicles don’t encounter. And I’m not just talking about the fecal matter of dubious origin strewn on the sidewalks and the side of the roads. Nor am I talking about the mounds of garbage that magically appear overnight on some street corner.
I’m talking about people, mostly grown men, who have made the sidewalks of P. Del Rosario St. and Pelaez at the back of Cebu Normal University their temporary home.
I know I wrote about this subject last week. I was hoping someone from City Hall or the Department of Social Welfare and Development of the Philippines would take note. Maybe they did, and I just missed it. But if that was the case, then how do you explain their numbers having grown instead?
I guess I just want some government agency to acknowledge their presence. I don’t want to call them a problem because that would be me judging them. Ignoring their plight won’t make them go away. According to urban legend, a former first lady once had high walls erected to hide the poor in the capital because she only wanted to see beauty.
Well, at least she didn’t pretend they were invisible.
A couple of nights ago, on my way home, I found myself in the middle of a street skirmish involving young kids at the bottom of Uytengsu Street. When I say young, I mean some of them were pre-pubescent. It was not my first time, and I doubt it will be my last, but at least this time I did not come close to getting hit with a soda bottle.
Yes, at my age, I’ve learned to pick my battles. The government can do something about homelessness, but its hands are tied when it comes to dealing with children in conflict with the law. Even the community is afraid to interfere for fear of breaking the law.
But something has to be done before things get out of hand.