Almost everyday my neighbor “Arps” drives by on the way to work, to church or to the university he teaches in. And as good neighbors do, we wave to each other as a form of the unspoken “have a nice day”.
“Arps” sometimes walks by like the “two minute” drizzle we all appreciate on a hot day. Each time he comes by, he has some encouraging thing to say, an expression of appreciation for the work we put in on a restoration project or something I wrote. What I appreciate in these brief pass-bys are the gems of information, history or a tale or two.
Come to think of it, I’m quite fortunate for the neighbors I have. Mr. Silvestre for instance even brings me magazines or calendars on classic cars, Sister Eden who finds time to deliver a sack of genuine “mountain rice” from Nueva Vizcaya, Jun and his family never fail to say “Hi”, or make time for a short chat. Nonong always wants to cross-reference his politics with my opinion, and Menchie whose calling in life is teaching some of the best musical artists of the country, has become my off-site provider of piano music that floats in the neighborhood.
I am blessed to have neighbors I actually know and relate with.
Back to “Missing the point”… Recently “Arps” shared a true story…
While he was based in the United States, “Arps” had been invited to a late afternoon “garden party” being hosted by one of the well respected and rich families in the Massachusetts area. The family was one of the biggest donors to a prestigious university in the US and the party was an opportunity to meet and greet more of the “neighborhood”.
The guests came in and a formal “greeting line” met everyone. At the very end was “Richard” the principal donor and host of the event. He was as expected, impeccably dressed. He stood strong, tall, self-assured yet disarmingly humble. His face had rugged features, and as you shook hands, he had an unusually calloused palm one would associate with workers rather than a multi-millionaire executive.
As the party progressed a guest went over to Richard and complimented him on his philanthropy and his beautiful residence. But more than the usual compliments, the guest could not help himself from asking Richard why he was wearing cowboy boots with his formal attire?
Richard politely replied: If you have time to listen, I have a tale to tell. Of course this got the guest’s attention.
Many years back, Richard was away at Harvard Business School training for his eventual takeover of the family business, which was one of the biggest financial houses in the east coast. His father who was gravely ill and dying called Richard home unexpectedly.
Lying in bed, Richard’s dad grabbed his arm, looked intently at Richard and asked him: Son, tell me in all honesty, if you could choose without a care in the world, what do you really want to be?
Puzzled by the query, Richard responded: Dad that’s what I’m in school for to train and to learn so I can someday be part of the business…
But the old man cut him off and with greater effort, almost demanding to know: What do you really want to be? Forget the business. Forget all that. What do you really want to be?
With great reluctance like a child forced to confess a sin or some wrongdoing, Richard could hear the words come out of his mouth…“Dad, I really want to be a Cowboy”.
Then be one! Forget school and go be a cowboy.
In the end they made a deal that Richard would finish his last semester at Harvard so he could also spend more time with his dad. Soon enough his father passed away, Richard graduated from Business School and became what he always wanted to be. A Cowboy.
The guest obviously wanted to hear more and looking around the lavishly appointed mansion, he asked: Do you make a lot of money being a cowboy?
Richard finished his drink, paused and replied: “You missed the point” then he walked out into the garden.
The guest quickly realized how one turns from a mule into an ass.
The tribe of the medicine man
If only more people said “Thank You”, perhaps more people would be willing to give.
I originally gave the statement in the course of discussions concerning the concept of “Donor Fatigue”. However I now use the same line in calling attention to the fact that we as a people have not really expressed our appreciation or our gratitude to the people who work for and in the Department of Health including Secretary Francisco Duque.
In the cynical world of media, we do not naturally give compliment or recognition to people for doing what is suppose to be their job in the first place. Even worse is to compliment someone who is your friend.
But somehow, I personally feel that little recognition and thanks have been given to the DOH for their vigilance, commitment and success in fighting off the many diseases and potential medical disasters that have threatened the entire nation.
Under the leadership of Secretary Duque, the DOH has faced and foiled the threat of SARS, bird flu, dengue, typhoid, meningococcemia, and now the fight to avert melamine contamination. In an environment of political difficulties, the DOH has successfully performed its role, getting very little recognition and having to squeeze out support from the usual sources.
Instead of making comparisons or politicizing how we should evaluate the DOH, can we just simply say thank you?! We don’t have to renounce our beliefs or our affiliations, but it would certainly make us better human beings when we begin to appreciate the personal risks, the professional disadvantages, and the political mud pits that the loyal and hard working people of the DOH have been doing.
I will not always praise them, I will not always agree with Secretary Duque. But today I can wholeheartedly say to the Tribe of the Medicine Man…Salamat. Thank you for a job well done.