YET ANOTHER TAKE
ERE HERE WHERE?
Amusing Musings
Story #558: “YET ANOTHER TAKE” by Leon Enriquez
(For my olde school buddy Clifford Drysdale)
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In a blurry splash, time oozes away so very quickly… Just like a flash of lightning. Just like the transient, translucent morning dew on the grass verge that sublimates in the hot morning sun. Just like so many other things that our rock solid, real-life experience embellishes. Scenarios and agendas that eventually come to pass. Somehow unnoticed. Even unremembered.
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You reflect on the years and years now spent and borne away like a misty void. Things like meeting of the commonplace awareness, and greeting of mundane resolutions. The stress and strain of living our individual lifetimes on the dismal fringes. Often, doing things for the wrong reasons. Yet, by grace, a deeper light shows us the way. Thank God for spiritual awakening and inspired illumination!
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Yet, we notice the sheer drudgery, the volatile struggles, and the conflicting sensations — of life encounters and myriad emergencies — where desperate emotive moments clash with the disruptive winds of change. All true with the struggles to be self-sufficient and the fierce independence that maturity bestows. A humble attitude and profound gratitude favour us with the best possible outcomes.
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You recall a perhaps-not-so-carefree lifetime ago of our school days — now growing old suddenly — and the passive experiences with uncertainty colliding through conflict and innuendo. With time hardly enough to face painful upheavals and stormy headwinds. Just to survive, or else, prevail in living our version of a good life the way we see fit.
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And then, abruptly growing up with a fast-track cacophony of chaotic voices and confrontations in vivid colours, tints and shades. Episodes that deliver contrast to your canvas of life. Fleeting moments that prompt and commiserate with wit, worry and frustration in the ups and downs you encounter.
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Someone even echoed: “I told you so!” And you with stern rhetoric retorted: “So what?”
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Yes, the daily happenings of living the virtual patchwork fabric of uncertainty — of unpredictable, unfolding life chapters — that encapsulate our life journey. Even, the very opportunity to re-make, re-hash and re-model changes to the collage of years spent making life choices and abrupt indiscretions.
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Surely, we each contort and conceive a brilliant genesis to live life on our own terms. And thus casting a personal paradigm that fashions and flavours our path in the scheme of fate and even destiny. Yet, much more than the sum total of each part of a cut-and-paste collage. A journey that has brought you here, even now… and me too!
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So, here we are on Yet Another Take — separated by fifty-plus years spent pursuing our individual life paths — and trying to bridge the gap between now and then. Once bosom friends, life has surely come full circle for each of us — from past interventions and weary circumstances on the road of life.
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We each wear the scars of battles won and lost since we left that olde school down in the city district of Bras Basah Road. Today, SJI of olde seems like our ancient alma mater. Circa 1971, secondary four was a time of profound hormonal change for school boys our age on the fancy flights of post-puberty and sexy gyrations!
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At that time, subject streaming was either to the Arts or Sciences with nothing in-between! Each of us groped blindly and stumbled by whimsy and chance into the education track — then recognised by the powers that be — that decreed what’s best suited for our insipid inclinations for study.
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We had too many distractions and personal interests outside the realm of school work and study. Playfully conscious of our obvious inclinations, we had a penchant for all things football and tomfoolery! And much more. And we took pride in being outside the dictates of primp and proper. Old age, therefore, brings some guilt, some regret, and hopefully, some constructive contrition.
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And without alarm bells going off, we indulged in cigarettes as if puffing on a peace pipe to save our dear life. And not discounting the daily rendezvous at the Mama shop and sarabat stall in the neighbourhood of Waterloo Street and Queen Street. These ghostly escapades — then and there — harboured our teenage conventions, conveniently located just around the school corner, within a short radius.
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Small wonder then, that the now defunct Catholic Centre compound in front of the olde SJI building, was an attractive meeting up point on Saturdays — without the encumbrances and obvious restrictions of our sacred school uniforms! Puff the Magic Dragon is not a cool misnomer for the likes of rebellious non-conforming teenagers in search of the purpose of life, as old glimpses thus pronounce.
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Now we meet once again with our own pet peeves and distinct self-image — mature, mellow and magnificent — reminiscing and talking of olde times past that have vanished in reality. Nonetheless, these olde visions are indelibly ingrained and significantly best attired within our profound collective memories and secular point-of-views. These memory reflexes seem so fresh that it seems that only the intervening years have separated us in flesh-and-blood commotions.
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Devotion to memory is a remarkably lasting habit no matter how old you grow — as if we are octopuses with tentacles that cling and clutch to old times desperately. But, no apologies for being and becoming the way we are today — a dynamic package of decent yet flawed human beings — at once unique and simply unforgettable!
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As our life paths somehow converge and briefly intertwine once again, olde buddies from yonder school days — or is it school daze? — get to meet by volition in happy circumstances. And with lots of stories to tell in easy-going banter — back and forth — and in no particular order. Just like a smorgasbord of savoury delicacies ready to be feasted at short notice for our memory palates.
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And as we hop from familiar topics of interest, we somehow recall and savour the taunting echoes down the olde school corridors in the vicinity of Andersen bridge of that distant SJI era now consigned to the Lost and Found!
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And in delightful banter, we still recall that short story in the olde school literature book titled: “The Web of Circumstance” — so long ago sent to the junkyard heap of school years past! But these quaint ideas linger and loiter in our event horizon with a soothing feel and distinct gusto! What a joy really.
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Just the same, we flirt upon those olde school likes and dislikes with the same gusto as yesteryears as cheeky school boys once more. Now old-timers — embroidered with a wealthy badge-load of experiences distilled from the School of Hard Knocks — we soldier on like seasoned conquistadors in search of the brave, new world!
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Yet, the gleeful magic of our teenage years seem to percolate well like the double-shot of espresso drunk straight up, or the fragrant aroma of freshly brewed tea with enough sugar for added oomph! It’s very nice to realise that years can crumble and fall away, but never sequestering those boyhood sensations of camaraderie that enriched us in more ways than we ever thought possible.
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September 13th, a delightful Tuesday in the year 2022 — exulted with a prelude of morning showers otherwise a truly a sun-shiny day. A date somewhat set in stone about a month ago, bore a silent witness to each buddy taking a train ride — alighting and emerging at the MRT station on the Red Line NS17 at Ang Mo Kio precinct. Anticipation and exuberance seem to go well in-sync with this auspicious convergence of fate and destiny!
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I arrived early enough and explored with a short tour of Level 2. Then, I sauntered into the Challenger store to look for the latest High Speed 4-port USB hub — a gadget to help me connect my electronic peripherals to my vintage Dell Inspiron laptop. That purchase done, I casually strolled outside to the mall walkway to attend to the waiting game!
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A message on my cellphone enlightened me that you were on the way, then alighting and strolling into AMK Hub, and searching for that restaurant outlet named Fish & Co. And from a short distance, my eyes captured a mirage from the Rock-and-Roll days of the 1970s! A kind of mystic guru from the glory days of Cream, Deep Purple and Grand Funk Railroad. Yes, fastidious eager beavers in search of memory lane recollections.
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The meeting and greeting felt spontaneous and heartening — with a twinkle of instant recognition despite the five decades that set our times apart! Two olde friends and school chums, met midway at a mall known as AMK Hub in the heartland district called Ang Mo Kio (roughly transcribed as English Tomato!) in the busy corridors of a shopping mall. In brief, Yet Another Take in the present tense.
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Arrivals and Departures characterise our myriad journeys before and after time. We each take our own route to wherever we are headed for — one day at a time. Here, we start at the end, and we end as we start — in a paradoxical whimsy ushered by fate and time, and clustered by destiny and space.
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Our individual countenance tends to create a lasting impact — whether conscious or otherwise. One with Snow White hair at shoulders length, and the other with white hair camouflaged by dark brown hair of a decent style of grooming perfection. But despite our styling differences, we seem to be attuned to something deeper than we even realise.
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Imagine two Eurasian fellows on a deliberate lunch date postured by destiny and predestined by fate! A happy moment no doubt, as if by a conspicuous intersection of time and space and grace. Who says that there is only rapture in the afterlife?
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Our brief sojourn at Fish & Co lasted a mere 2-and-a-half hours! Mostly spent devouring olde excavations from our memory lane stockpile. And in- between our catching-up, we consumed our lunch meal of succulent fish fillets and fried prawns and downing iced lemon tea and gassy Coke with zero sugar. Time seemed to ooze away so very quickly with the happy touch of olde time conversations.
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Time, it seems, has done a pretty good job of sculpting and toning our facial visage with crisp etchings all over. Olde age becomes us no matter how you look. There are tinges of wisdom here and there observed by the silly slapstick of humorous banter. Our faces are now mellow works of art that conspire to forge a certain transfiguration for poignant adornment. In short, we are relics of the past visited onto the present template. Yes, a poignant adornment of transient zest and witty humour.
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Yes, there is a certainty even in uncertainty, even as change re-calibrates our very existence. Each wears his peculiar antics well, and the same memory instincts that is quite telling. We stare with certain recognition at the time-chiselled face seeking a personal Nirvana moment en passant.
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We enquire briefly about family and significant other details like children, and the present life situation of retirement from work regimes. You relishing the easy-going visual self-image flavoured by long locks so long embraced by the Rock-and-Roll era. And I reciprocating about the nine diamond encrusted white gold and platinum rings on my fingers, and saying: “I am vain!” And we share a good laugh with the identity that best describes our personal brand profile!
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So many things to talk about — and yet so little time. The afternoon continued with a dessert break at the McDonalds outlet at ground zero, in the adjacent building. New York cheese cake with hot tea and espresso were procured promptly more as a coaxing rendezvous of some sort. The real deal centred round our never-ending banter of topic and theme hopping. Almost non-stop except to retrieve some lost breaths here and there, with a sip of beverage and warm water.
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Simple gifts and souvenirs changed hands. And some glimpses from a certain promontory made some delightful impact. Words channeled from thought to paper in a sampling of poetic fancy. And the light discussion of how music, lyrics and feelings come together in creating lasting and memorable songs. And the collaborative spirit that the Muse inspires.
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As we tranced the hours away, time flew into the early evening hours. Another 3-and-a-half hours ambled away. About 6:35pm, we answered our own family obligations to transcend the very long face-to-face conversations.
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With easy aplomb, we walk to the train station, take a photo snapshot, and go our own way, each in the opposite direction — one North-bound to the Woodlands estate, and the other East towards the Tanjong Rhu Road suburbs.
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We feel certain of one thing henceforth: We will keep in touch regularly, at short intervals by phone, What’s App messaging, et cetera — until the next meeting elsewhere!
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During our very feisty conversations, we thought of Stephen Gomez who plays delightful music nightly from Thursday to Sunday evenings at the food restaurant known as Quentin’s. Stephen is our olde classmate from way back when. Perhaps, we should work towards going to Quentin’s for dinner at the Eurasian Association grounds in Ceylon Road in the not-too-distant future?
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Olde buddies don’t fade away. They just find — “A Place in the Sun” where there’s home for everyone! As we bid: “Adios Amigo,” we ride away into the setting sun like the olde cowboys used to do in the ole-time movies like “The Lone Ranger and Tonto” or even “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.”
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As a parting anecdote: Do you remember that time when our vice principal (the late Mister T. O. Aeria, an Eurasian gentleman) allowed us to go home in the afternoon when we each wrote a letter to say we were not feeling well? So that we could get out of our boring classroom and play truant without a backlash!
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We left the olde school grounds and found our way to Rex theatre to watch the movie: “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.” And at that time smoking was not yet banned from public theatres. So, we school boys, could puff cigarettes in the movie hall — which we truly relished without any awkwardness. So very manly we thought then, as we laughed watching Mister Clint Eastwood do his cowboy thing!
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There are many other tales that will come out as we reminisce about days past — at the olde school locale where the sanguine statue of Saint John Baptist de La Salle still stands reminding us of our alma mater! Still, boys will be boys. And BCG is quite natural. Not the injection but BCG as in Boys Chase Girls!
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There was also a certain Red House — at the junction intersection of Victoria Street and Bras Basah Road — a bakery cafe of sorts. This Red House was the popular water hole for teenage pilgrims on both sides of the fence.
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Truly a dramatic venue for the somewhat handsome SJI boys, and the pretty sexy CHIJ girls to cluster beyond the confines of mild-mannered good behaviour. The sex drive and flirtation here seemed somewhat over-rated! No wonder then that the majority felt awkward like outcasts because of not having good looks or ample assets in physique or whatever.
~~~ (*CHIJ : Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus; *SJI : Saint Joseph's Institution)
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This preferred spot was a somewhat pricey eating house was often the focal point of boy-girl happenings. Yes, verily the talk of the town during our adolescent years of schooling in the city district so very very long ago. And there were always gossipy scandals that emerged from the moorings at the Red House Cafe! That’s another story perhaps for another time on our memory lane excursion.
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The thing about memory is that it starts to have a life of its own surpassing even our most modest expectations! Just like gossip, memory trails exploit our whim and fancy to the utmost. That’s surely why we each live in a make-believe world of part fact and part self-scripted interpretations.
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Leon Enriquez
Story #558: “YET ANOTHER TAKE”
16-19 September 2022
Singapore
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Posted: 27 October 2022
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