This has been bubbling underneath for quite a while, more like for the last 65 years. And it is still as fresh and intense as the earliest period when all this unraveled. It had stayed uninvited in my mind all this time, kept stowed in the back burner but at times surfacing and loitering in my waking hours.
First let us line up the protagonists, or the actors in this bit of melodrama. The dominant player one could say was a young Jesuit scholastic coming from the mighty US of A, who had nobly volunteered to spend time and service in the Philippines, far away and quite removed from the progress and development enjoyed in his blessed country. Inspired we surmised with the gallant purpose of bringing good American education and the words of the Gospels to a fledging country that had leaned decidedly Christian Catholic.
On the other side would be me, middle child of nine siblings, quite timid and overly introverted; keeping pretty much to myself though possessed of a mind that was ever on high gear daydreaming or thinking fanciful things about the world. And thus I had always asked the intriguing question: Does timidity encourage bouts of fantasy role-playing?
The two protagonists invariably meet almost in an inadvertent way. I did not ask to be born and at the very least, he was unaware of what he was getting into, other than what he had understood about his own culture and morality. And of course, he was on a life mission that was noble and commendable.
While my milieu and the particular circumstances that nurtured me would create the kind of person I would grow up to be, he had spent time growing up in a somewhat idealized way, raised by Catholic parents and in very empowered working class setting, and educated in the rigid Catholic tradition up to his college years. Equipped we suppose of the moral tools and habits designed to produce other good Catholic kids, even those coming from different backgrounds. Like kids like me.
Anyway he came to my life as a HS junior, a time when I was pretty much left to my own devices and at that time beginning to show nonchalance and listlessness about the formal education process. And I had instead taken easy interest in being part of a close-knit group of my own contemporaries and school mates. Feeling comfortable in an existence with minimal structure and boundaries, which were not judged necessarily bad or good. Just enough to get by and stay out of trouble in general. And liberally free from many constricting rules to follow and keep.
That was the externality of that existence, because inside I had countless daydreams that occupied me and somehow desired some realization or fulfillment. Dreams of being looked up to because of certain skills and smarts, like possessed of good writing skills, looking physically good, with admirable skills in public acting, singing, and orating. And more, as gleaned and captivated by the celluloid idols of my days. In that world, it seemed that traditional moral issues were not only practiced selectively but some maybe frozen in time. So it was deemed okay to take some available shortcuts to arrive at certain results. And this applied even to regular school work.
So did not think much about plagiarizing English translations of Latin passages from a kept-secret book borrowed from the library, or imitating writing styles or words from some articles read, etc. Or justifying keeping stuff found simply dismissing them as rewards under the catch-all justification, finders keepers. Or taking small things without asking. Any small thing to gain advantage and insignificant enough not to raise any tinge of conscience. In short, somewhat morally ambivalent with regard to small stuff which in my mind then did not really mean much.
With almost dull cadence I went through my high school days in some kind of mindless but directed existence. Insufferably doing just enough to pass through schooling, though trying to excel at a few endeavors that I considered I could make something out of.
That kind of dull existence led to less than satisfactory school work, which did not really faze me, nor meant anything much to me. School at that stage was simply a process that I tolerated. Not really thinking about it as part of a greater future. But who cared.
Anyway, one day a few weeks before the end of school as things were being wrapped, I received an unexpected surprise in my young timid life. I received back a regular notebook where we wrote translations of our Latin textbook, and submitted regularly for grading by the teacher. On the empty page where the last translation work ended were emblazoned the following words coming from the teacher: This is to certify that Amadeo V. Neri, Jr. is a complete failure for the year. And signed in full by the author. No explanation. My world dropped and got so aimlessly stunned I did not know how to react.
Kept the notebook to myself, and showed it only to my mates in our gang. Made no move and was not made to account for it by the teacher. While we continued to meet casually, no mention from either of us of the incident was made. The year ended and I did get a passing grade for that Latin subject. The crux of that matter may have been that the prior year I received a silver medal for being the best in Latin. That probably triggered the outright consternation and condemnation. This thorn was necessarily in the forefront for another year since I still had to go through senior year of HS, which year got progressively worse. But who cared. In short, I made it through HS, though because of shortcomings was not allowed to go through graduation exercises. But who cared.
And I find that over the years whatever few talents I have discovered in me I have tried to explore and exploit in all possible ways. Like in drawing, in writing, and most everything else I do I do with the end in view of making sure that I project my best efforts. Resolving to bring out my best in the tasks I do, like in work or simply in living my life as a single person and as father of a family. This in a way tells me and people too that I always try to bring out the best in me in whatever I do, and have been doing this on my own and in the best morally possible and decent way I know how.
Though still certain available shortcuts may have been undertaken, it was always with the end in view of benefiting other people and not me. The considered moral lapses are justified in my mind and thus am not troubled too much by conscience, though when I was younger there was a point when I considered these lapses I could never justify. And of course, the fear of being caught pushed hard on me. However, I have been fortunate to not be caught in compromising situations, and had been able to justify that maybe that is God’s way of telling me to take it easy, though it is really not that bad. Else I would have been punished early on. Still this troubles me and gnaws at me, making me more tentative or fearful in engaging in such lapses. Though I have been very careful and deliberate when I think and decide on these things, and allow time and effort to lapse and slow down before actually doing it.
In later years most of the earlier issues would change as maturity or awakening started to take hold. And I would turn out to be almost like a different person after those intervening years. And as I far as I knew we both would go our own separate ways. Learned that my erstwhile mentor would continue his work in the homeland, and would actually spend his last years there. He had been aside from more assignments in other Jesuit schools in the Philippines become focused in giving spiritual retreats, which are very important exercises in the Jesuit schools and communities. He had written several books on the subjects relevant to them, and I had even acquired and read several of those books.
In the back of my mind I had always desired that one day I would like to talk to him about that forgotten traumatic incident in high school that remained hanging without proper explanation and closure all these years. A possibly convenient occasion popped up when I learned that he was invited by another HS classmate to join us in our 50th reunion. Never got the chance since he failed to join us for the reunion, and I learned that some months later that he had quietly passed on in his adopted homeland.
So any closure to be done at this stage would remain to be virtual and alas, just a figment of the imagination.
And there may be a couple more that I am working on, working toward unraveling them and seeking closure.
And this we need to do till we breathe last.
