Crossings

Long before I’ve picked up the game of golf, I’ve always wondered what’s the inside of a golf hole looks like. Like is there a chance a scorpion lurks in there waiting for a hand? When my brother and my bros-in-law gather, they’d talk seriously about their crazy sport much like cardinals do when electing a new pope. Back then, I didn’t understand why drive a small ball with a long thin stick into a tiny hole hundred yards away under the heat of a scorching sun. No way, Rory. I’ll never play. 

That was then. Now, because I play the crazy game, I understand golfers better. I’ve seen what’s and what’s not inside that hole. And why drive that small ball with a long stick? I’m not telling you!

Before this K-pop craze and prior to traveling to South Korea, I didn’t like Korean food. I did not approve of the Korean ‘invasion’ of the Philippines —the restos, the students, the music. But after visiting South Korea, I met and befriended some nice Koreans that led to a change of heart… and palate. The travel tamed my own prejudices towards Korea. Now kimchi and ramyeon are a staple food for me. K-drama, too!

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Coffee for me then was piping hot, white and sweet. I didn’t get it when people drink it black. I mean, where’s the fun in a bitter bold brew? Ain’t it supposed to brighten up a sleepy day? But after my son, Andre, brought in his espresso machine, I learned what real coffee is — more than just a simple beverage. The notes. And the aroma. The comfort it brings. The bitterness depreciated slowly until it wasn’t anymore. I am a changed coffee man.

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I could go on with more of these crossing stories: running; having covid; being a father with rowdy little tykes; getting old; losing hair. I’ve jumped from one end of the 38th parallel to the other to learn a lesson.

When you find a connection, you find appreciation and respect.

I raise this cup. Cheers!