to live, to love, to learn, to leave a legacy… and to laugh along the way
What began as a simple transfer for the sake of family placed me in a unique position to witness – up close and personal – the tension, the uncertainty, the courage, and the hope that unfolded during the historic EDSA People Power Revolution of 1986. It was a moment when history ceased to be something found in books and became something we lived through, those fateful days that would not only be the country’s pride, but would be a model for many more countries in the years that followed.
Life has taught me that growing older is not necessarily about abandoning ideals. It is about learning that truth rarely belongs entirely to one side. The fire of youth seeks to change the world overnight; maturity and the mellowing of years understand that conflicts are infinitely more complicated. I no longer see the world through the rigid lens of left or right. Time, experience, loss, and service have softened my perceptions. In the end, perhaps growing up is not about surrendering convictions, but learning to carry them with balance, wisdom and the humility to see humanity even in those we may have once called the enemy.
Before the Academy, my life was a jumble of momentary thrills, lacking any definite path, lacking a purpose in life. The Academy nurtured something deeper: a profound sense of discipline and a maturity that I hadn’t known I possessed. It was as if a door had cracked open, and light began to spill in, revealing a landscape of golden possibilities I had never dreamed of. I walked in a boy looking for an exit; I walked out a man who had found a calling.
Fifty years have lapsed in a heartbeat, yet I can still smell the pine-scented air of the Academy, and feel the frantic thumping in my chest as we marched down those “51 steps.” We were just boys then – naive, unsure of ourselves, and miles away from the families who waved us goodbye at Camp Aguinaldo or elsewhere. We didn’t know that we would be stripped of our civilian antics and molded into the leaders we would later be. Today, the echoes of those barking orders still reverberate as cherished stories of old men, but the fire lit that fateful April Fools’ Day will never waver.
The pull toward the wild isn’t new to me. Rather, it feels more like a homecoming. I’ve always been an outdoor man. It is a desire I rediscovered during my days as a young lieutenant. Patrolling the mountains with the elite Scout Rangers wasn’t just a duty; it was where I felt most alive.
Now that I have officially breached the gates of seventy, I’ve discovered there are actually some magnificent perks to being a septuagenarian. For starters, I just received a birthday cake from my favorite city, Taguig. And some cash to boot. They give us free entrance to the moviehouse on Tuesdays too. There is also the truly noble-intentioned “Senior Discount,” which I wield like a trump card.
Color My World 