Page 9 of Between Then and Now
I shake my head with a smile and step inside, closing the door behind me. Living with my family is a deliberate choice; we’ve embraced Filipino culture, where family ties and neighborhood connections are cherished and close-knit.
My parents decided to move here from Minnesota when I was seven. Initially, they just wanted to escape the cold since my dad’s metal knee would hurt during the brutal winters. But after their vacation here all those years ago, my parents fell in love with the place. And not just because of the warm weather, butthe warmth of the people. Here, age doesn’t matter; it’s normal, accepted, and even encouraged to live with family without any judgment.
When my mom passed away five years ago, I thought we’d return to the States, but dad insisted that he preferred to stay here. But I encourage him every now and then to take a vacation to the US to see his brothers and his friends. He’s actually there right now, staying with our uncle in Los Angeles. At first I thought he only decided on continuing to live here for Richard and me, trying to maintain our normalcy, but I can tell now, that no matter where he goes, his heart is anchored here. Like mom’s. Like ours.
I am late to the briefing, but I make it just in time to hear the important announcements. As I slip into the back of the room, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I catch the authoritative voice resonating through the air.
“We are organizing a post-pandemic and post-typhoon medical mission in Batanes, one of the most remote—albeit beautiful—islands in the Philippines,” announces Dr. Fernandez, one of the hospital’s board members. She’s pointing to the projector which is currently flashing a slide with photos of Batanes. Breathtaking, even in photographs. The pandemic has really taken a toll on this country, and if Metro Manila suffered, I can only imagine how much worse it must have been for the remote islands.
I find myself leaning in, eager to catch every word. The idea of Batanes intrigues me. “The cases in Batanes are actually very low compared to other places, but this outreach is also established to address other diseases and effects of the many typhoons that hit them. Many people have no access to vaccinesand basic healthcare, and the Batanes General Hospital partnered with us to assist in providing these,” she says as the slide now shows photos of the residents and the general hospital.
“We need volunteers from various specialties,” Dr. Fernandez continues, scanning the room with a discerning eye. “Doctors, nurses, and support staff who are willing to dedicate their time and skills to help these communities get back on their feet.” She hands a clipboard with an empty sign-up sheet to the doctor beside her. “If you’re interested, write your name on this volunteer sheet and we’ll keep you posted. As new resident doctors, you are the ones who probably need and want to be involved in these kinds of advocacies.”
The clipboard begins its journey around the room, and I notice Alexa smile and write her name on the sheet. Seeing her volunteer sparks something in me. Batanes has always been on my bucket list, and the chance to visit while doing something worthwhile—and potentially getting to know Alexa better—is too good to pass up.
“The mission will last for a month, and we will be providing vaccinations, medicines, medical check-ups, and more,” Dr. Fernandez explains in the background. I am only half-listening as I eagerly wait for the clipboard to reach me. When it finally does, I quickly scribble my name down.
As the briefing continued, my mind drifted to thoughts of Batanes. I imagined the rolling hills, the serene beaches, and the warm smiles of the locals. This mission would be more than just a professional challenge; it would be a personal adventure and a chance to make a tangible difference in people's lives.
The briefing eventually comes to an end, and as people start to leave, I linger for a moment, lost in my thoughts. Theweight of the decision I just made begins to settle in. Volunteering for this mission means stepping out of my comfort zone, facing challenges head-on, and immersing myself in an unfamiliar environment. It’s daunting, but also incredibly exhilarating. And I honestly need the push to improve myself once and for all.
Maybe this will be a good decision.
CHAPTER SIX
Bonita
It's been four days, and I haven't created anything compelling or even remotely interesting. I think about documenting Emily's journey from Manila to New York, but she's still currently getting ready for her UCPA certification—not exactly worth documenting yet. I consider focusing on Kate's preschool, but aside from adorable children, there isn't a story that feels significant enough to uncover. Then there's Haley, a theater actress. While she's exceptional at what she does, I can't imagine documenting a musical in a way that feels fresh or unique. Maybe I could film Manang Linda and her life’s pursuit to learn everything about everyone in our village.
Frustration sets in as I sift through potential ideas. Each concept seems promising at first, but quickly fizzles out upon closer scrutiny. I spend hours staring at my blank notebook, doodling in the margins as if perfecting the drawing of a cartoon eye will somehow spark inspiration. My mind is a whirlwind of discarded thoughts and half-formed concepts, each one slipping away before I can fully grasp it.
Mr. Ramirez actually got back to me yesterday, his email popping up in my inbox like a golden ticket. He followed up on my brainstorming, curious about how my creative juices were flowing and whether I felt ready to pitch my ideas come Friday. I graciously assured him while lying to myself that I was more than ready, despite the creative roadblocks I’d been hitting.
Then he laid it all out: if I were to embark on this personal project, I wouldn’t be paid as a regular employee since I’d be working remotely. However, management, in their infinitewisdom and generosity, agreed to keep me on as a part-timer. Should I agree, they’d be ready to draft a new contract.
I, of course, agreed with the enthusiasm of a caffeinated golden retriever. I needed this opportunity not just to prove to them that I deserved more recognition and responsibility, but also to prove to myself that I could rise to the challenge.
When I told my parents about the new project and the potential shift to a part-time role, their reactions were surprisingly supportive. Sure, I could sense the undercurrent of hesitation—they’ve always been practical, cautious people—but they were too caught up in their mission to ‘make up’ for my terrible childhood experiences to voice any real objections. They didn’t want to risk discouraging me when I finally seemed to be finding my path.
In an unexpected twist, they even offered to give me an allowance if I needed it. The offer was touching, albeit a little ironic, considering their usual stance on financial independence. It felt like they were trying to balance their old-school expectations with a newfound desire to support my dreams. I assured them I wouldn’t need it, though. Over the years, I had managed to tuck away some savings from various short-term part-time jobs I juggled while studying. Yes, I voluntarily took part-time jobs as a student because I wanted something to do aside from school. Which is why I graduated with no honors, and no special recognition. And why I’m now paying for it. Literally and figuratively.
Back in the present, I am sitting in a restaurant near my studio, alone. Friends have offered to join me for lunch, but I need this clarity for my personal project. The bustling noise of the eatery fades into the background as I try to focus on my thoughts. Neighboring conversations, the clinking of cutlery,and even the background music playing all seem distant, almost like a soundtrack to the movie playing in my mind—a movie that wouldn’t make it past the opening credits. I bury my face in my hands in agony.
I think about the stories that have always fascinated me—the tales of perseverance, personal growth, and unbreakable bonds. I want to create something that resonates on a deeper level, something that makes people feel and think. But every idea I come up with feels either too shallow or too ambitious to execute on my own.
Then a group of doctors from the nearby hospital enters. They look young, like fresh residents—like Ryan, actually. I scan around for him since I’m sure this is his crowd, but he isn’t with them. Unsurprising, since I’m pretty sure Ry is holed up somewhere, eating lunch by himself like the maverick that he is.
“I’m so excited for the Batanes mission,” one of the doctors says.
“John. You’re excited about everything,” another one interjects.
“No, but this one involves being in one of the best vacation spots in the country and doing a good deed for its residents. A win-win situation, no matter how you look at it,” the first doctor, John, says.
Distracted now, I can’t help but eavesdrop on their conversation. Apparently, they’re excited about a month-long medical mission to Batanes. The hospital is organizing the volunteer event to help the residents after the pandemic and natural disasters. It sounds like a big deal, the way they’re talking about it.
Then something in my brain clicks. A post-pandemic medical mission on a remote island. I can already see thescenarios playing out in my head—the doctors navigating through rugged landscapes, administering care to people who’ve had limited access to healthcare for years. The personal stories of the residents, the impact of the pandemic on their lives, and the hope and resilience shining through. It’s got all the makings of a perfect story: human interest with a dash of global crisis, wrapped up in the sappy stuff.
I could document the doctors’ journey, their challenges, and triumphs, capturing the essence of their mission. It would be a compelling narrative. Plus, the stunning backdrop of Batanes would provide a visually captivating element to the documentary.
