The Memory of a 200 Year Old

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In the "About Me" page of this blog I mentioned that I have a very poor memory -- that paintings, photographs and letters help me remember persons, places and events.  I really don't think I exaggerate when I say that I have the memory of a 200 year old.

Here's proof of my poor memory that just happened today.  I was tagged in a Facebook note of a young friend.  The note was a re-post in toto of this article entitled "Between Poverty and Paradise" by Paolo P. Mangahas.  It's a long article and this afternoon was one of those times when I don't want to read a long note from a friend, especially if the note is something that she didn't even write herself.  I still read the article since this friend has never tagged me in a note before.

The article is about a Filipino who started to map a Philippine tour itinerary to a German friend who has not seen a beggar in her entire life.  The drafting of the tour shifted to a description of poverty in the Philippines, then later about some redeeming characteristics of the same nation.  After reading through that article I wrote a brief comment "Ganda (beautfiul).  thanks for sharing."  It really was beautiful and I was even teary-eyed as I neared the end of the article.  I even thought of asking her permission to re-post it.  End of story.  No.

After a few hours the friend who tagged me posted a reply that she wasn't finished editing yet when I read the Facebook note.  She told me to read the first part again.  So I did, and it started with:

"As I am now on my third day in KUALA LUMPUR, i went back to one of my favorite essays related to this place. This was a write-up first shared to me by Kuya Aboy in 2007 then I shared to my students in UPB. I also remember reading this to my Papa Rico and how we both cried over the words & soul of this article..."

Whoa! Wait a minute.  I was the one who sent that article to her 4 years ago?  And there I was unable to recall any detail and even finding myself teary-eyed as I felt a fresh pinch from the article?  Me and my memory.  Hay.  

The sadness from this new confirmation of my poor memory was assuaged by the thought that the article I sent before touched her and her dad, and that she even shared the article to her college class.  I hope it made an impact in the  hearts of those students too, as it did to me more than once.  

Read the article for yourself and see if it affects you as a Filipino or not.

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