Those were the days

We had our bouts with learning the English Language which was, indeed, very hard. But it also had its own graceful moments as we struggle to straighten our pronunciations with words that have the “th”, i.e., the, that, those, them, etc. We pronounce the word “the” as “da”. With tons of das, we sounded more like a flock of sheep descending from Mt. Tagpochau. Those were the days….

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You ought to see us stumble through the word “ask”. Most local kids pronounce it “ax”. I tried to figure out the linguistic difficulty but couldn’t pin it down. Nonetheles, we “axed” every Tom, Dick and Harry while we’re grammar school kids. Those were the days….

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Every Monday, students from grades one through six must join the flag ceremony at the old CK Elementary School. I recall one particular Monday when we had a Navy lt. commander who visited the school. He stood upright saluting the US Flag as we sang: “O` say can you see, by the dawns early light….” Every word after the second stanza was mumbled and mutilated to death. After the ceremony, an impressed lt. commander told our principal how beautiful our version of the National Anthem in the vernacular. Those were the days….

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When locals travel, they bring the entire family wardrobe not to mention farm produce like banana, taro, yam, sweet potatoes, fruits, dried meat and fish. I remember bringing my best banana bunch for my nieces and nephews on Guam. As I was unloading it, one asked: “Who’s the banana for, Uncle John?” I said it was for them. He snapped right back “We’re not monkeys!” A` Saina. Those were the days….

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I’m not fond of dogs no matter the explanation that it’s man’s best friend. But this changed somewhat temporarily when I started learning how to read in English at the third grade. Yeah, man, it was about Dick, Jane, Sally and Spot. I went home to look for my pet “Skipper” who was dirty, under-nourished, stinks, and was nowhere near the Spot that I was reading about in my textbook. Sorry Skipper! Those were the days….

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Our parents taught us personal hygiene, including wearing clean and pressed clothes before we leave home for school, Sunday Mass or community events. The only hairstyle then for boys was, you know, the famous crewcut. When the first batch of Peace Corp volunteers descended on planet Marianas, all these had to change to long hair, faded short pants, long beards, sandals, marijuana, among others. Again, we were confused over the import of new hippy-style fads oceans apart from the old school. Those were the days….

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Kids wore clean and pressed clothes to school. They never really had to worry about color coordinates. I’d wear anything for as long as it covers my lanky frame. I remember walking into midnight mass with yellow shorts that had waist band from a tire tube, donated red shirt and a pair of shoes. I must have distracted the faithful pretending to be praying. I was tickled to death for none of the suckers had the courage to replace my Lali-Fo wardrobe other than to mouth off as, well, faint hearted sophisticates. It was basics, boy, and lots of fun too! Those were the days….

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Most families were poor then. No food stamps, well, USDA commodities came later. But I remember sitting by the kitchen window early one evening when the aroma of babecue meat came flowing from the neighbor’s local kitchen. I decided to spy. I walked by the house and found out that my partner (young girl my age) was burning pork fat on the fire. I asked why burn pork fat. She said “Shssssh! I just want to fool you that we’re having barbecue meat for dinner”. I decided to do the same–burn pork fat–to let my next door neighbor (breeze blowing from our house to theirs) that we had barbecued meat for supper. “Those were the days my friends I thought they’d never end….”