Just My Perspective on Contentment

Several Sundays ago, our Sunday School lesson was about contentment.  When our teacher made a comment that some of us or some people does not know that we/they are poor, I almost jumped off my seat and say "that's me."  I grew up thinking that we were rich and here's why - first, my Dad had a battery operated transistor radio.  I think there were only a couple of homes in our area that had a radio at the time and we were one of them.  Second, we had running water, again, we were one of the handful who had running water connected up to our kitchen sink.

Let me tell you first about our transistor radio.  During lazy afternoons, Daddy loved to listen to songs by Matt Monroe, Patti Page, etc.., and I even heard him and my mom sang along those "dreamy melodies" (can you tell I'm borrowing those words from an old song "Changing Partners")?  Now I, too, love to listen to those great songs of long ago.  And every time I hear the songs I could still see my parents faces singing along.

And then at 5:30 right after supper, Dad would take the radio to the porch and set it at a high volume so our neighbors, who by now have trickled down to our porch, could hear the radio action/drama series that everyone listened and followed (much like the "Ponderosa" TV series here).  It was called "Diego Salvador" which had a lot of action more than anything.  So our porch was always filled with neighbors around that time (5:30PM).  The show was about an hour long and with commercials it would be around 7:00 when it ended.  The kids love it because it means that we can still play and when the moon is out it was even better because we can venture out further than our yard.  There was no electricity available when I was growing up so we either played in the dark when there was no moon or we sat down and listened with our parents to the radio drama.

It was one of those particularly moonless nights that something terrible happened but we didn't even know.  Sometime between 6:00 and 8:00 that night, a robbery was going on down the road just a block and a half from our house.  Apparently, robbers stormed into the Mayor's wife's store and placed the male and female store clerks in the store room while they ransacked the money drawer.

Our house as well as our neighbors' by the way, is located behind other houses that are along the main road.  A little path from the main road to our place became a favorite shortcut route by the locals going to the beach.  Anyway, while we were all huddled to the radio that night, a neighbor came and asked the adults whether they saw or heard a group of people passing by our place and of course because the radio was blaring everyone didn't hear anything.  It was then that we learned of the robbery and that it was believed the robbers took the short cut to the beach.  But since nobody saw or heard anything, they left it at that.

The exciting thing about it though is that the robbers did take the "short cut route" because the following morning some people found some coins along the path just a little ways from our yard that lead to the beach.  There were lots of coins found on the sand probably where their escape boat was waiting.  I don't know if these coins were turned over but anyway, nobody was hurt.  The men and women who worked for the Mayor's house and the Mayor's family were unharmed during the robbery.

And that's my story about our transistor radio that my Daddy loved to share with the whole neighborhood.  That's why in my young mind I thought we were rich.

And then there's the running water.  We had running water connected all the way up to our kitchen sink when I was growing up.  Our neighbors came to our place to get their drinking water,  did their laundry on Saturdays, and even took their baths.  Dad made sure that water was available to them by using a long bamboo, fashioning it as a tube so when you connect it to the faucet water would drip down to our "bath area" behind the house.  Even when I was in high school, I remember us with neighbor boys and girls took turns to take our baths in the morning.

My parents are the most giving people I ever knew.  They love to share what they have with anyone who has a need and it has always been that way growing up.  If you happen to pass by our house in the morning, expect Daddy to greet you with "have you had your coffee yet?" and if you say no he'll make sure you stop and have coffee.  Sometimes I wonder if most people purposely "pass" by the house because they know they'll get a cup of hot coffee if they do.  Sometimes too, Mom grumbled at Dad because it would mean she will have to start the fire again to make some more hot water or sometimes there isn't just enough coffee to pass around.  I chuckle even now at the thought of them bickering about that.  We always had people having coffee or eating meal with us almost everyday.  So you see, in my young mind we were rich, how else would we have food to share with other people?  How could Dad afford to buy a radio when others cannot?  Or how could Dad afford to buy water tubing so mom could have running water in her kitchen when others cannot?  This was my mindset growing up, we must be rich!

And then I came to consumer-driven America, boy oh boy!  As the years passed by I realized that my family didn't have a whole lot when I was growing up.   We weren't rich - we were dirt poor by American standard.   I told my sons when they were little what life was like when I was their age....we didn't have electricity, no TV, nothing except a radio.  I never played with a Barbie doll.  When I told them that,  Zach's eyes popped out in amazement.  "You never had a Barbie doll, mommy?"  When Christmas came, guess what Zach gave me -- yup, he gave me my first Barbie doll!  I was 39 years old when I got my first Barbie doll.  That was 20 years ago!!!  I kept my Barbie doll in our curio cabinet and loved her so much that I even brought her with me when we moved back to the Philippines 3 or 4 years ago.  But of course when it was time to come back to America I gave her to one of our neighbor's little girl so she could enjoy her.

So before I finish this blog, let me ask you, my dear followers, considering that we didn't have a whole lot when I was growing up, was I rich or was I poor?  Does being rich means having material things or does it mean something else?  I'd love to hear your comments.

Love you all, thanks for following!  God bless.