My Lolo doesn’t know I’m not a doctor…

My Lolo always told me to write. I ended up doing the opposite for most of my life so far and did every hobby and craft I could get my hands on. My Lolo was a teacher super intendant in the Philippines. I remember listening to stories of how well-respected he was in our region as an educator and how his intelligence and forward thinking made him this like super hero. EVERYONE had respect for my Lolo, I guess. He built a reputation that I think still carries to this day back home in Iloilo.

My Lolo and Lola decided to come and stay with us in Chicago for a few years while I was a kid. This was my first encounter with a REAL Lolo and Lola. There were elders around me as a kid, but both my maternal and paternal grandparents were always so far away in the Philippines and also much older. I never really got to know my mom’s parents so this stay was my only real chance to have grandparents for a while.

For the 3 or 4 years my grandparents were in America, I was essentially always with them. My Lolo quickly realized how little I was actually learning in CPS and took it upon himself to “home school” me after I would get out of school for the day. He would pick me up from the corner across the street from my school and I would always look out for his lumberjack hat that he wore basically EVERY day on our walks home. He would ask me what I learned and then tell me stories of what life was like for him in the Philippines as a kid. A lot of the stories involved the Japanese occupation and how little they had and how desperately he wanted to learn and read books. He would then tell me that the time I was living in was magic. He always did a little “tisk tisk” sound and give a laugh of astonishment when he would hear about some new tech that came out like AOL or cell phones. His eyes would sparkle and he would tear up in amazement. I remember being amazed at his amazement.

There was so many things I credit my Lolo in teaching me. He taught me about socie-economic theories like marxism in like 4th grade. He forced me to read books like “War & Peace” and “Waltzing with a Dictator” in 5th. He made me write essays just to write them so he could critique my linguistic skills. He would challenge what my American public school history books would say because he experienced the history himself (WWII) and didn’t agree with the diluted and cute version they pushed in my school books.

The thing I am most grateful for is that my Lolo made me believe that I really could do whatever I wanted. I really could be president or a doctor or a famous writer. He believed that I was smart and clever and always challenged me to think harder and bigger than myself. He did his community such a service in education and I always admired how people would say how much of an impact he had on their lives as a teacher or as a boss.

I never wanted to be a teacher. I did want to be in service to others, but I couldnt really figure out how given the fact that I didn’t want to be in medicine either. I didn’t really get to tell my Lolo I became a designer and business owner. He died in 2014 and I was fresh out of college. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wanted to leave medicine before then. I think he would be more proud of me now than he would have been if I did become that doctor I was trying to be. I think he would be proud to know that I really was paying attention to him when I was a little girl and really absorbing the stories and lessons about life he squeezed in those short years we had together. I think he would know that I do believe that we can be in service to others in are own way and that change is possible always no matter who we are and what we do.

Long story short (haha), my Lolo was my inspiration for embodying radical change for good. Serving community can be small, but the right intention over time can amass to a large impact. It’s a marathon, not a sprint and every act towards creating a more equal society matters.

I miss him very much even so many years later and I know that Chicago For Keeps is making him proud.