I’ve mentioned before the struggles I’ve been undergoing as I continue my journey through the uncharted waters of my seventies. Usually, I can turn off my brain, or at least drown it out with copious amounts of San Miguel Zero. But then those nights I can’t sleep soundly come around.

Lying there in bed, my mind inevitably starts traveling back to the past, reminding me of what I had and what I lost. My preference is just to let it go, or sometimes fantasize about what I might do to change things should I be granted a “do-over life.” Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Anyway, last night the struggle with my brain revolved around how disconnected I’ve become. I rarely hear from my children, and it’s been years since I’ve had contact with my two brothers. Long-time friends have also disappeared. I guess this is one of the consequences for choosing to live out what remains of my life on the other side of the world, far away from friends and family.

But here’s the thing. I don’t miss the vanilla American lifestyle I left behind and can’t imagine living in the nation of my birth again. I miss the people I’ve loved, even if it feels like they no longer love me. They’ve chosen to go their own way, just as I have chosen to go mine. Life goes on until it doesn’t.

Somewhat coincidentally (I was checking to make sure I hadn’t used this post title before), I found something I had written in 2008 expressing sentiments similar to what I’ve been feeling now. Back then, I was reflecting on my life after three years in Korea, lamenting what that had cost me, yet I was still unwilling to change course. That’s where I’m at today as well. The mistake I want to avoid this time is getting trapped in regrets over what I’ve lost and forgetting to embrace the good in the life I have.

So, as unconnected as I might be, I have my routines to fill the hours. Yes, they are mostly mundane and meaningless, but I enjoy them and will do my best to continue living the best life an elderly man can hope for. Let’s see how that works out for me.

Take yesterday, for example. My new driver, Bong, who is a friend of Swans, arrived promptly at eight in the morning for my weekly grocery shopping excursion. There was an additional stop at the immigration office to extend my visa, and that went without issue. Then it was on to the Filipino supermarket, YBC, to stock up on the week’s candies and treats. Checking out can be a very frustrating experience, as I was reminded once again. It seemed to take forever for the woman in front of me to get her groceries squared away and paid for (she had them in three piles to be rung up separately. And then it took a long time for her card payment to go through. I stood by patiently, reciting my mantra, “take a deep breath, relax, and accept the Filipino way.” It’s not vanilla here; sometimes it’s a rocky road.

Royal is a comparatively American shopping experience, so there is usually nothing much to get upset about. My only issue was at checkout, when the cashier tried to entice me to buy eco-bags for my groceries instead of the cardboard boxes that are the usual method. When I declined the bags, she said the boxes were unavailable. I responded by pointing to the customer who was ringing out several aisles away, using boxes. Then the cashier disappeared for several minutes, presumably in search of boxes. Meanwhile, one of the baggers came by with boxes sufficient for my grocery load. The cashier eventually returned and began ringing up my purchases. Maybe it was my imagination, or perhaps she is just incompetent, but damn, it seemed like she was moving in slow motion. Anyway, if that’s all I have to complain about, I’m living a charmed life indeed.

Back home, I was feeling lazy and skipped the usual afternoon neighborhood hike. At beer o’clock, Swan and I made our way to Barretto and paid our monthly visit to my old darts bar, Alley Cats. I was reminded of how disconnected I’ve become from my former darting life. It’s still nice to see the familiar faces occasionally, though.

After Alley Cats, we crossed the highway for some dinner at the Outback Fish and Chips diner. We’ve had takeout from there in the past, but this is the first time we’ve actually sat down to eat there.

I had a 500 peso voucher from the final SOB for Whiskey Girl, so that’s where we headed next. At first, they declined to accept the voucher, saying they were no longer a member of the SOB. I was livid, saying this prize was given to me at the last event, and their refusal to honor it was tantamount to fraud. I was ready to walk out without paying for the drinks I had ordered when manager Mick interceded, saying he would accept the coupon but still claimed it should not have been given. So, I had four beers for free (one glass of wine I paid for) and left.

Then, we once again crossed the highway and popped into the newest bar in town, Gold Bar. We were warmly greeted by the manager and took our seats. I was a little surprised to see that I knew our waitress, Lydell, whom I first met at Snackbar several years ago. A little later, neighbors Jeff and Davina joined us. I didn’t take any photos, but Gold Bar is a clean, well-lit place —the kind I appreciate when I’m drinking inside. There is a pool table in the back and a small stage where four dancers were performing their swaying routine last night. They were attractive (i.e., not fat) by Barretto standards. It was a pleasant enough nightcap venue, and on those occasions we are visiting this side of town, we’ll pay them another visit.

Not bad for a Tuesday, eh? Except for the part about not being able to get a good night’s sleep.

Oh, I’ve often wondered why Filipinos don’t speak Spanish, despite being under Spain’s rule for four hundred years. This article explains what happened.

Moving on to February 2015 in the LTG archives, and this post about one of my best days as a darter brought back some nice memories.

Three years ago, I was still enjoying my visit to Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

In today’s YouTube video, a white girl (or, more likely, an AI-generated image of one) shares her first experience in a Manila grocery store. She encounters the variety of snacks and flavors the locals enjoy. It is short, so bite your tongue and try to enjoy it.

And now let’s move on to the funny business:

That’s all I’ve got. Sorry for going a tad off the rails today, but that’s what happens sometimes.

Here’s the down and dirty on how I spent what the locals call All Souls’ Day.

As is our custom, we kicked off our Sunday with a Sweets Stroll.

Speaking of goodness, Swan made me a meat pie for lunch:

But the feeding wasn’t over, I still had the Hideaway gals to tend to.

But wait, there’s more. At John’s place across the highway, I rendezvoused with Swan, who had just returned from family time at the cemetery in remembrance of her mother.

After our meal, we ventured out to Red Bar and met up with the neighbors.

Swan said she saw on Facebook that there was live music at Jumpin’ Jacks starting at 7 pm. So, off we went. When the music didn’t start as scheduled, Davina graciously helped fill the void.

And that’s all there was to the day, but it was still blessed. I hope there are many more to come.

From the January 2015 LTG archives is a tribute to my mother on the fourth anniversary of her passing. Gone but never forgotten.

And Facebook also flooded me with memories from this day in 2018, during my last visit to the USA. We rented a place for the weekend at Seven Devils, North Carolina, nestled in the Appalachian Mountains.

Life doesn’t always go the way we planned. You just live the life you have and make the best of it. Looking back still makes me sad sometimes.

Speaking of looking back, today’s YouTube video is about growing up in the baby boom generation. Those were some sweet memories. I’m glad I got to experience life the way it was. I’m also happy to be living life the way it is, but the clock is ticking for us boomers.

And now let me offer you these tidbits of wisdom that may be worthy of a smile or two:

There you go. I hope you got what you came for. It’s Hash Monday and I’ll be hitting the trail again this afternoon. When I say “the trail,” I mean “my trail.” I’ve decided that making the effort to reach the official start at the end of Rizal Extension isn’t worth the hassle, especially since I’m not a fan of the previous trails by today’s Hare. Damn, the older I get, the more inclined I am to say, “Fuck it. I’ll do it my way.”

I heard this song as background music last night. It had been a long time since the last time it tickled my senses. In my old-man style, I sent myself a message with the song’s name so I’d remember it today.

This is the day
Of the expanding man
That shape is my shade
There where I used to stand
It seems like only yesterday
I gazed through the glass
At ramblers
Wild gamblers
That's all in the past

You call me a fool
You say it's a crazy scheme
This one's for real
I already bought the dream
So useless to ask me why
Throw a kiss and say goodbye
I'll make it this time
I'm ready to cross that fine line

No, I didn’t go crazy and flee. I didn’t get screwed either. It’s just that after all these years, coming up with an original post title is increasingly difficult. My first thought was “stuff about things,” but when I did a search, I saw that I’ve used that five times over the years. So, nuts and bolts it is!

The pending arrival of my seventieth year has been on my mind a lot lately. It’s a milestone I suppose I never thought I’d live to see. But here I am. I’m sure I’ll get used to these emotions I’ve been feeling, but damn, turning another page in the story of my life feels like the start of the final chapter. I’m hopeful it will be a LONG one!

Anyway, it is easy to forget that I’m an elderly man because I don’t feel old. I often joke and say in response to the “age is just a number” line that I’m thirty years old. Honestly, I don’t feel all that old, but something about seventy just can’t be denied. That said, I’m still doing the things I enjoy such as walking and drinking pretty much like I always have, although maybe in somewhat smaller doses. The biggest change I’ve noted is the cognitive decline, especially in terms of memory and attention span. I guess if that continues, at some point I won’t know or care about it.

We never know how much time we have left, and everything can change in the blink of an eye. I was reminded of that while walking this morning. We were on SBMA, and I was walking facing traffic on a narrow elevated footpath. This being the Philippines, there was a power pole blocking the sidewalk in front of me, so I stepped into the road to move around it. Then I hear a horn blow and a car goes racing past inches away from me as it illegally passed a vehicle in the other lane. Damn, that was close. I yelled a hearty “fuck you!” and flipped him the bird. So, I haven’t made seventy yet. Here’s hoping!

Beckie, ex-wife number two, posted this on Facebook yesterday (yes, we are still Facebook friends):

Fable: DON’T ARGUE WITH DONKEYS

The donkey said to the tiger:

– “The grass is blue”.

The tiger replied:

– “No, the grass is green.”

The discussion heated up, and the two decided to submit him to arbitration, and for this they went before the lion, the King of the Jungle.

Already before reaching the forest clearing, where the lion was sitting on his throne, the donkey began to shout:

– “His Highness, is it true that the grass is blue?”.

The lion replied:

– “True, the grass is blue.”

The donkey hurried and continued:

– “The tiger disagrees with me and contradicts and annoys me, please punish him.”

The king then declared:

– “The tiger will be punished with 5 years of silence.”

The donkey jumped cheerfully and went on his way, content and repeating:

– “The Grass Is Blue”…

The tiger accepted his punishment, but before he asked the lion:

– “Your Majesty, why have you punished me?, after all, the grass is green.”

The lion replied:

– “In fact, the grass is green.”

The tiger asked:

– “So why are you punishing me?”.

The lion replied:

– “That has nothing to do with the question of whether the grass is blue or green.

The punishment is because it is not possible for a brave and intelligent creature like you to waste time arguing with a donkey, and on top of that come and bother me with that question.”

The worst waste of time is arguing with the fool and fanatic who does not care about truth or reality, but only the victory of his beliefs and illusions. Never waste time on arguments that don’t make sense…

There are people who, no matter how much evidence and evidence we present to them, are not in the capacity to understand, and others are blinded by ego, hatred and resentment, and all they want is to be right even if they are not.

When ignorance screams, intelligence is silent. Your peace and quietness are worth more.

The obvious moral of the story is to ignore the libtard’s rants. But during the ten years I was married to Beckie, I was a Democrat and she wasn’t. That wasn’t at the root of our breakup or anything, and I don’t recall us arguing over politics much. But it did start me thinking about those years we shared and how we came to be together in the first place.

I first met Beckie during one of my visits to the farm in Poteau, Oklahoma, to see my kids who were staying there with my parents. I attended a gathering hosted by my brother’s then-wife, and Beckie was there as well. My girlfriend back in Arizona was going to graduate school to be a speech pathologist. That was Beckie’s profession, so we talked about her work. Later, I was introduced to the man who had been smilingly watching us from across the room–Beckie’s husband.

Anyway, fast forward a year or two, and I took a job in the nearby city of Fort Smith, Arkansas. One day, Beckie’s husband was clearing the road to their house and was killed when the tractor he was operating flipped over, leaving a widow and baby daughter behind.

Another year or two went by, and I was looking for a partner to help me raise my kids. Beckie filled the bill, and I married her. I got promoted at work and we moved to South Carolina shortly thereafter. She did a great job with my kids and is still actively involved in their lives as a loving grandmother. She is one of the nicest people I’ve met in this lifetime. She deserved better than my cheating ways and found it after our divorce. So, there you have another episode in the story of my life.

Speaking of which, I came across this article talking about Plato solving the problem of evil. The concepts taxed my weary brain, but the ideas about the multiverse and how all the paths you did or didn’t take in life have been lived out by you in a different universe gave me some hope that my dream of a “do-over” life may be within the realm of possibility, God willing, of course.

Yesterday was Thursday, and Swan and I did our own little walk. Taking advantage of rainless skies (that didn’t last), we braved taking the back way up to the My Bitch trail and had a pleasant stroll through the hills.

Another plan for my dotage years is to take a trip out of town at least once every month. I’m set for Angeles City in September. Swan wants to go back to Pundaquit in October. And yesterday I booked flights and hotel rooms for Siragao Island at the end of November. That trip will include all the neighbors here on Bryce Street.

When beer o’clock arrived, Swan wanted a massage, so I chilled in Alley Cats for an hour. I was the only customer during my visit. When Swan was done getting rubbed, we met at Mango’s for dinner. Yep, we stuck with the pork chops like we always do.

After dinner, we moseyed up the highway to Queen Victoria for our nightcap. They had a pool tourney going on, so we weren’t the only customers this time. Queen Vic is hosting tonight’s SOB, and although it is an excellent venue for the show, I’m going to take a pass this time.

Steven King has always been one of my favorite writers, although his political views are more than a little off-putting. Never noticed his leftism in his books, but then, I used to be one, so maybe it seemed normal then. Anyway, he posted something on X mocking Trump’s grammar. Turns out, King’s was just as bad. Maybe he needs to sign up for Kevin Kim’s Substack.

In the LTG archives from February 2012, I recount the adventure of climbing Bukhansan in Seoul. This was before hiking became my daylight pastime.

Today’s YouTube has a 70-year-old expat sharing some of the lessons he’s learned now that he is elderly. I can relate.

Humor never gets old. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about that. For today, anyway.

Today is the anniversary of my retirement and move to the Philippines seven years ago. If things go as I hope they do, I’ll celebrate my 70th birthday later this year. So, there is no denying that I’m in the midst of the final chapter of my life, and I hope to make the most of it. I don’t recall having any real expectations when I made the move, and although I’ve had my share of disappointments, I don’t have any regrets about the decision to make the Philippines my home.

I still spend a lot of time dwelling on the past, which may not be a healthy thing to do, but in a weird way, remembering what I was, and what I had and lost, and all the things that led me to this moment in time are sometimes painful, yet somehow comforting. I can’t adequately describe the kaleidoscope of feelings looking back brings me, but I almost feel as if I’m in an afterlife and seeing my past lives from an otherworldly perspective. Perhaps this is my purgatory.

I wrote a post about my final day in Korea here. In that post, I quoted something I had written in January 2005, before changing my world forever when I decided to leave my American life behind.

I never really had a plan for life, I just reacted to it. Whenever I reached a crossroads, I chose a direction and followed the road without a clue as to where it might take me. I guess it is natural to wonder about the paths that would have led to a different life, but you only get to live the life you chose. No mulligans. But I have been extremely fortunate and blessed. The roads I have taken have led to some great adventures and life-altering experiences. A fool’s luck perhaps, but even though I could never have imagined what my life would turn out to be, it has been a very nice ride. So it is time to look forward again. And it will be an adventure with an uncertain outcome for sure.

I reckon that is as true now as it ever was. And it occurs to me that I’ve been blessed with a multitude of lives within my lifetime. Here are some of them off the top of my head:

• My California life
• My Arizona life
• My Oklahoma/Arkansas life (I lived on both sides of the border)
• My South Carolina life
• My Virginia/DC life (lived in Virginia, worked in DC)
• My Korea life
• My Philippine life

And within those lives, there was a multitude of others: growing up, working, parenting, four marriages, and other relationships and adventures. At one time, I began to explore some of these in a series of posts here called “One Lifetime, Many Lives”. Perhaps I’ll find the motivation to complete that effort before I die.

Anyway, nothing else to do but hang on and see what happens next. In the meantime, here is the first post I wrote after arriving in the Philippines. I had to smile at the mention of Jessa, who worked at Treasure Island, where I stayed my first few days. We did wind up dating briefly, but I managed to fuck it up. We are still friends, though, and I’m glad for that.

If you are a regular reader, you know my life is not much more than daily walks and nightly beers, with some occasional travel in the mix. I’m sure it gets boring to read about, but I enjoy it. One of my goals when I moved here was for my presence to make a difference in some small way for the less fortunate who surround me. I feel good about some successes I’ve had in that regard. My biggest project in terms of cash outlay is supporting a widow with three kids born to an American father who couldn’t be bothered with securing their citizenship before he died. I also sponsor a student in Bohol who regularly makes the Honor Roll at his school and, hopefully, is destined to escape the poverty of his family’s life. I am also helping Maria, the gal I dated briefly when she was eighteen, as she attends college. I’ve got a full-time helper who has been with me from the beginning of my time here and earns a generous living wage. And of course, I’m supplementing the salary of bargirls through the generosity of the lady drinks I provide. Hey, every little bit helps!

And there you have my anniversary reflections and the rare LTG post with a semblance of substance.

Tomorrow is election day here in the PI, and Filipinos are not allowed to consume alcohol starting today. Most Barretto bars are open for the foreigners they cater to, but I moved my Sunday routines to Saturday just to be on the safe side.

I did the feeding at Hideaway, even though they are open today (closed tomorrow). Then it was off to the floating bar to meet Swan.

We got hungry and impatient waiting for the sun to put on the endo of the show, so we headed back to shore.

Then, it was off to John’s place for some dinner. Once again, we shared:

After our meal, we stopped at Red Bar for a bit, then finished the evening with a nightcap at Wet Spot.

By the way, I didn’t forget about the Saturday Sweet Stroll, but how much more can I say about that weekly event that you haven’t seen or heard numerous times? Well, there was this:

I also did a video clip of the final neighborhood on the Saturday Stroll:

As my trek through the archives of LTG continues, I came upon another anniversary, or should I say, blogaversary. The third year of my blogging efforts was in December 2007. Sadly interesting were the comments of wife #3 and my step-daughter, Avery. One more episode in The Story of My Life.

Facebook memories for today:

Today’s YouTube video takes a slightly different twist on the reasons why the Philippines attracts expats. As I was searching for where I might spend my retirement years, I ultimately chose the Philippines for two reasons: the friendliness of the locals emphasized in this video, and also, that English is commonly spoken here. The cost of living is another positive, although I disagree that most hospitals provide quality and value. I’m glad I found an excellent doctor I can trust, though.

And bad humor is better than none, or so I keep telling myself:

And now to get on with year number eight. It occurred to me that Swan won’t be able to drink in any of the open bars. She suggested I have some “me time” tonight, so I reckon that’s what I’ll do. I’ll let you know how that works out tomorrow.