Memories of a Traveler

I learrd this when I was in this military high school at 16 years old. For the next two years and eight months, I learned, among my officers and NCO instructors, who among them are tough, and who are just mean. And you can tell. Sometimes not right away. But as you get to know them, it is very apparent. I carried that lesson with me till today. I have had bosses who tells me they are just being tough, but actually they are downright mean. And I have had bosses who are just like some of my instructors, tough and loud on the outside but soft and gooey on the inside. It is the mean ones that really get to you. Worse, they think they are doing justice to you. They think they are helping you. They think they are toughening you up. I liken them to abusive parents, or abusive spouses. And these bosses couldn't understand why I don't like them. I think somewhere along the way they lost the meaning of tough and mean. But I also learned that these mean people lacked the compassion and lo

I am in the LRT. Standing next to me are three Form 1/2 kids. One chinese boy. One indian boy. And I think, one malay boy. Sharing ice cream. Using the same one spoon. Sharing drinks, from the same one bottle. I think they are color blind. I don't think they know they are from different races. Better yet. I don't think they care. To them, what is important is, they are friends. Why is there so many adults tainting their friendship? I do hope, their friendship will outlast any form of prejudice. Kudos kids. Well done.

Got this picture from a local newspaper reporting on the hundreds of thousands of 17 year old taking the Malaysian high school exam, SPM, which started on Monday, 3 Nov. Looking at this picture, I am humbled and even ashamed at myself. I think I am only one tenth of this boy. His courage, his determination, sets him apart from many of us. Me included. For you, young man, I pray for your success. And I am sure you will. And better than most of us.

Watching this view from the Ampang Line Masjid Jamek LRT station at 0715 hours, Nov 5, 2014. Some quesy warm nostalgic thingy feeling came over me as I watched the street below me. Maybe because for almost 6 years I walked that street to go to work at KLSE, from 1998 till 2004. Or that my late father used to work at a legal firm down the road till the day he died. Or I last saw him, he was having breakfast at this kedai mamak, also at the end of this road, as I walked to work. I sat with him for a few minutes as he finished his breakfast. I didn't see him anymore after that. Or is it the smell of breakfast that envelopes the air. Cakes and nasi lemak and what have you. Or the twilight time between waking up and bustling of the day. Or I am just being nostalgic and emotional. Whatever, I thank God for the opportunity for me to savor that moment. I managed to stop and smell the "roses".