Courtesy of YouTube, here are some little offerings for the holidays:
PEACE TO ALL MEN OF GOODWILL!
...to make a difference let your life's footprints mark the way for others to follow. However, be prepared to be made a fool for Christ.
RESPICE AD FINEM.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Sunday, December 17, 2006
People Dying To Get to Colma, CA
A possible bumper sticker one may spot driving slowly, yes, slowly because one might miss the entire town if one blinks, along the abbreviated streets of Colma, CA.
To which a local resident may emit either a faint trace of a smile or a naughty smirk depending on his or her weather-borne disposition. And the why will be explained down the line.
But the town’s official motto is a bit puzzling to any outsider, too. It reads: It’s great to be alive in Colma.
Anyway, it is a postage-stamp-size town or city of 2.2 square miles, hemmed in from the north by Daly City and by South San Francisco from the south. Thus, when I was living in Daly City, I could actually boast that when I was jogging I was doing so across three cities, Daly City, Colma, and So. San Francisco.
In 1924, cemetery operators got together and decided to locate their “operations” in one place. Thus, that intent gave birth to Colma as a necropolis. Presently, it has 17 equal opportunity cemetery sites, now euphemistically called memorial parks, along its borders; while the entire town or city itself is 73% zoned as such. Thus, it has proper burial sites for Greeks, Italians, Serbs, for Asians like Japanese, etc. And yes, also for different furry pets in a couple of pet cemeteries sharing side by side locales with the rest.
It is no surprise that the biggest landowners are a landholding company and of course, the Roman Catholic Church. Still this burgeoning town has about 1500 residents alive and doing well, but clearly outnumbered by their subterranean neighbors now numbering about 1.5 million.
And adding to the puzzlement of the place, Colma has a bit of a personality problem too, only to the outsider though. It is both a town and a city. And that is attributable to California Law, which makes town and city synonymous. The law states that a city is either one created by a charter or one created by general law. Colma is of the latter blend. Thus for its new spiffy image the signs in front of its municipal offices read: City of Colma, while the earlier engraved signs around town read: Town of Colma. Well, 1.5 million permanent residents pay no mind and will not be confused.
Like any town or city, Colma has its own government hierarchy to represent and rule over the 1500 residents, headed by a council. And this has been so even during lean times when the residents willing to relocate there were much less. One can imagine that the early “mandatory” residents were those connected to the “operations” – gravediggers, landscapers, flower growers, headstone makers. And maybe later, cremation technicians?
Not anymore, now somberly-hued residential buildings line the boundaries of some memorial parks, many facing the neatly-manicured and well-maintained lawns of the parks. Two elementary/middle schools are located within its borders. And many businesses are thriving there, too. Ubiquitous Home Depot has two sites. There are also a couple of shopping centers, and yes, many car dealerships still abound, tracing their origins to the early days of the place.
And yes, the most popular card room in the area named Lucky Chances is located in Colma, owned and operated by a FilAm; and given its bountiful revenues, one can rightly surmise that these bounties are scattered somewhat within the local community in terms of taxes and local consumption expenditures.
Also, for the first time in memory a FilAm was elected to its suddenly-important council, in the person of Joanne Del Rosario, a sister of former Philippine ambassador to the US Alberto Del Rosario. And this she won by the slimmest of margin, in a town where 25% are of Asian origins.
Because Colma is in California, it also shares in the surging real estate prices. A burial plot can cost from somewhere between $20,000 to $over 200K for a family plot.
While talking and viewing cemeteries and the dead may appear dismal and gross to many, it does offer the curiosity angles, for the curious and the typical tourist to the place because Colma is no different from any other place. And this is apart from the beauty offered by the very attractive landscape designs, the exquisitely built structures, the nice chapels and ultra-modern above-ground mausoleums.
It also offers the celebrity angle. Tucked in one of its many cemeteries is where the legendary Wyatt Earp of the long-gone wild west is buried. And local legend and baseball icon Joe DiMaggio is buried there too in a Catholic cemetery, marked by a beaten path made by the many baseball fans hereabouts. And the burial place of songstress Tina Turner’s dog, reportedly buried wrapped in fur? Yes, one can find that there, too.
And personally, where my wife's late maternal grandmother and her father are also interred.
Credits
Credits
To which a local resident may emit either a faint trace of a smile or a naughty smirk depending on his or her weather-borne disposition. And the why will be explained down the line.
But the town’s official motto is a bit puzzling to any outsider, too. It reads: It’s great to be alive in Colma.
Anyway, it is a postage-stamp-size town or city of 2.2 square miles, hemmed in from the north by Daly City and by South San Francisco from the south. Thus, when I was living in Daly City, I could actually boast that when I was jogging I was doing so across three cities, Daly City, Colma, and So. San Francisco.
In 1924, cemetery operators got together and decided to locate their “operations” in one place. Thus, that intent gave birth to Colma as a necropolis. Presently, it has 17 equal opportunity cemetery sites, now euphemistically called memorial parks, along its borders; while the entire town or city itself is 73% zoned as such. Thus, it has proper burial sites for Greeks, Italians, Serbs, for Asians like Japanese, etc. And yes, also for different furry pets in a couple of pet cemeteries sharing side by side locales with the rest.
It is no surprise that the biggest landowners are a landholding company and of course, the Roman Catholic Church. Still this burgeoning town has about 1500 residents alive and doing well, but clearly outnumbered by their subterranean neighbors now numbering about 1.5 million.
And adding to the puzzlement of the place, Colma has a bit of a personality problem too, only to the outsider though. It is both a town and a city. And that is attributable to California Law, which makes town and city synonymous. The law states that a city is either one created by a charter or one created by general law. Colma is of the latter blend. Thus for its new spiffy image the signs in front of its municipal offices read: City of Colma, while the earlier engraved signs around town read: Town of Colma. Well, 1.5 million permanent residents pay no mind and will not be confused.
Like any town or city, Colma has its own government hierarchy to represent and rule over the 1500 residents, headed by a council. And this has been so even during lean times when the residents willing to relocate there were much less. One can imagine that the early “mandatory” residents were those connected to the “operations” – gravediggers, landscapers, flower growers, headstone makers. And maybe later, cremation technicians?
Not anymore, now somberly-hued residential buildings line the boundaries of some memorial parks, many facing the neatly-manicured and well-maintained lawns of the parks. Two elementary/middle schools are located within its borders. And many businesses are thriving there, too. Ubiquitous Home Depot has two sites. There are also a couple of shopping centers, and yes, many car dealerships still abound, tracing their origins to the early days of the place.
And yes, the most popular card room in the area named Lucky Chances is located in Colma, owned and operated by a FilAm; and given its bountiful revenues, one can rightly surmise that these bounties are scattered somewhat within the local community in terms of taxes and local consumption expenditures.
Also, for the first time in memory a FilAm was elected to its suddenly-important council, in the person of Joanne Del Rosario, a sister of former Philippine ambassador to the US Alberto Del Rosario. And this she won by the slimmest of margin, in a town where 25% are of Asian origins.
Because Colma is in California, it also shares in the surging real estate prices. A burial plot can cost from somewhere between $20,000 to $over 200K for a family plot.
While talking and viewing cemeteries and the dead may appear dismal and gross to many, it does offer the curiosity angles, for the curious and the typical tourist to the place because Colma is no different from any other place. And this is apart from the beauty offered by the very attractive landscape designs, the exquisitely built structures, the nice chapels and ultra-modern above-ground mausoleums.
It also offers the celebrity angle. Tucked in one of its many cemeteries is where the legendary Wyatt Earp of the long-gone wild west is buried. And local legend and baseball icon Joe DiMaggio is buried there too in a Catholic cemetery, marked by a beaten path made by the many baseball fans hereabouts. And the burial place of songstress Tina Turner’s dog, reportedly buried wrapped in fur? Yes, one can find that there, too.
And personally, where my wife's late maternal grandmother and her father are also interred.
Credits
Credits
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Coins Of The Biblical Realm
In the famous challenge to his kingship, Jesus Christ has given to us this now memorable Biblical statement:“Render unto Caesar, the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s. . . ”
We know that he was referring to the coin of the then Roman realm under which the Jews were obligated to pay tribute.
Click to read more.
Monopoly Has No Monopoly
Indeed, the game of Monopoly has no monopoly in the issuance of high denomination currency.
Think 100,000 dollars, US dollars that is, as one denomination.
The US as late as January 9, 1935 printed and issued such a denomination as a gold certificate. Okay, so it was not really intended for general circulation.
Click to read more.
Think 100,000 dollars, US dollars that is, as one denomination.
The US as late as January 9, 1935 printed and issued such a denomination as a gold certificate. Okay, so it was not really intended for general circulation.
Click to read more.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
The Fortress Of Solitude Revisited
The Fortress Of Solitude Revisited
I know that many of us do have that “fortress of solitude” that we escape to to try to steady ourselves when the tempestuous times of our lives buffet us. I am even tempted to say that maybe everybody has one, whether deliberately defined or unconsciously peered into as the self’s defense mechanism against the at times overwhelming rigors of daily living.
But it might be a worthwhile exercise for many of us to find out how indeed we develop and maintain that “fortress of solitude” that enables us to maintain an even keel and not be pushed off the precipice edging sanity into insanity.
The idyllic years of youth for most of us can be counted to yield the most nostalgic and soul-stirring experiences that continue to encumber and colonize the memories of adult life. We reminisce about the boundless energies exhibited by youthful bodies and minds, when we felt we could do everything that we put our minds to. The unfiltered and seemingly unparalleled joys of discovery of the many allures and wonders of the ever-growing world that was hurtling away from us. The unconditional love and attention liberally showered by the people who loved and cared for us as children and as adolescents. The boundless trust and confidence shared by youthful friends in many moments of unexplainable angst and exhilaration.
In this past universe, we sought to define the existential parameters where our youthful lives were spun. The unforgettable family house, most likely of humdrum quality and really quite congested, where the entire family gravitated and adeptly swiveled around trying to get out of each other’s ways. The family table where many a memorable meal and family tête-à-tête transpired without form or design. The shared and barely-appointed rooms whose walls literally had ears to broadcast any and all secrets. The many local places that became the special hangouts for idle times with friends and relatives. And the local school where many friends, relatives, and siblings all went to and vied to see who the smartest or dumbest were. And yes, the little tucked-away vacation spots, where good fun time could be had for almost next to a song, or at times even free because friends and relatives were that generous and giving.
In fine, we sought to define the house and its usually drab surroundings that was exquisite “home” to our careless youth’s simple treasures, but especially where the multifarious cares of the world were so distant as to be unreal. Where, in hindsight, we found ourselves at peace and in serene congruence with the world we knew.
Thus, when we feel the overpowering onus of life’s burdens crushing on frail shoulders, many of us do actually retrace those fading steps back to those halcyon days hoping to buy back relief and peace. Many of us do try to re-acquaint ourselves with the things that meant the world to us and which the harsh world of adulthood may have dulled or burnished over time. A close childhood friend, who was away from the old hometown for over 30 years practicing medicine abroad, inconspicuously resettled over 4 years ago and practically kept himself in seclusion apart from visits to the familiar haunts of his youth. A few months ago, we learned that he had died, from a lingering illness that he also hid practically to himself except to immediate members of his family. The trip back obviously did not cure his physical ailment, or even the heartaches that may have laden him, but what he got was the precious care that he needed to tide him over.
But then, many of us cannot take that trip back to our childhood places to get some relief. Or those childhood places may actually be no more. So, what does one access to get some instant relief?
The present community we live in? The new loving friends we have collected? Or the good people at work?
But seeking the comforting shelter of “home” during a restless or stormy night may not be all that easy. However, a trusted friend may be available even during odd hours, or a “new” family who may have replaced the family of youth and thus, may provide the ever-available access or that special place to lay one’s head for a time. Of course a spiritual person may find that solace in prayer or meditation. But times will come, when no relief will make an appearance, and we may just have to rely on our own “sterner stuff” to steady our fraying nerves till the whole thing blows over and calm is restored.
Or it could simply be an inspiring book to read. Books that provide one with the vital roadmaps in negotiating through the “vale of tears” and guide one in traversing through by exploiting the authors’ own life experiences in handling chaos in their own lives.
Yes, seek ye your own “fortress of solitude”.
For life is not just . . . a job for Superman!
I know that many of us do have that “fortress of solitude” that we escape to to try to steady ourselves when the tempestuous times of our lives buffet us. I am even tempted to say that maybe everybody has one, whether deliberately defined or unconsciously peered into as the self’s defense mechanism against the at times overwhelming rigors of daily living.
But it might be a worthwhile exercise for many of us to find out how indeed we develop and maintain that “fortress of solitude” that enables us to maintain an even keel and not be pushed off the precipice edging sanity into insanity.
The idyllic years of youth for most of us can be counted to yield the most nostalgic and soul-stirring experiences that continue to encumber and colonize the memories of adult life. We reminisce about the boundless energies exhibited by youthful bodies and minds, when we felt we could do everything that we put our minds to. The unfiltered and seemingly unparalleled joys of discovery of the many allures and wonders of the ever-growing world that was hurtling away from us. The unconditional love and attention liberally showered by the people who loved and cared for us as children and as adolescents. The boundless trust and confidence shared by youthful friends in many moments of unexplainable angst and exhilaration.
In this past universe, we sought to define the existential parameters where our youthful lives were spun. The unforgettable family house, most likely of humdrum quality and really quite congested, where the entire family gravitated and adeptly swiveled around trying to get out of each other’s ways. The family table where many a memorable meal and family tête-à-tête transpired without form or design. The shared and barely-appointed rooms whose walls literally had ears to broadcast any and all secrets. The many local places that became the special hangouts for idle times with friends and relatives. And the local school where many friends, relatives, and siblings all went to and vied to see who the smartest or dumbest were. And yes, the little tucked-away vacation spots, where good fun time could be had for almost next to a song, or at times even free because friends and relatives were that generous and giving.
In fine, we sought to define the house and its usually drab surroundings that was exquisite “home” to our careless youth’s simple treasures, but especially where the multifarious cares of the world were so distant as to be unreal. Where, in hindsight, we found ourselves at peace and in serene congruence with the world we knew.
Thus, when we feel the overpowering onus of life’s burdens crushing on frail shoulders, many of us do actually retrace those fading steps back to those halcyon days hoping to buy back relief and peace. Many of us do try to re-acquaint ourselves with the things that meant the world to us and which the harsh world of adulthood may have dulled or burnished over time. A close childhood friend, who was away from the old hometown for over 30 years practicing medicine abroad, inconspicuously resettled over 4 years ago and practically kept himself in seclusion apart from visits to the familiar haunts of his youth. A few months ago, we learned that he had died, from a lingering illness that he also hid practically to himself except to immediate members of his family. The trip back obviously did not cure his physical ailment, or even the heartaches that may have laden him, but what he got was the precious care that he needed to tide him over.
But then, many of us cannot take that trip back to our childhood places to get some relief. Or those childhood places may actually be no more. So, what does one access to get some instant relief?
The present community we live in? The new loving friends we have collected? Or the good people at work?
But seeking the comforting shelter of “home” during a restless or stormy night may not be all that easy. However, a trusted friend may be available even during odd hours, or a “new” family who may have replaced the family of youth and thus, may provide the ever-available access or that special place to lay one’s head for a time. Of course a spiritual person may find that solace in prayer or meditation. But times will come, when no relief will make an appearance, and we may just have to rely on our own “sterner stuff” to steady our fraying nerves till the whole thing blows over and calm is restored.
Or it could simply be an inspiring book to read. Books that provide one with the vital roadmaps in negotiating through the “vale of tears” and guide one in traversing through by exploiting the authors’ own life experiences in handling chaos in their own lives.
Yes, seek ye your own “fortress of solitude”.
For life is not just . . . a job for Superman!
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