A Ride Down Memory Lane

I feel nostalgic from time to time. Maybe it's my age catching up with me. Yet, I feel comfort when experiences of the past come as vivid as today's events. I go in silent guilty mourning realizing that I can never turn back time. But then, with nostalgia, the feelings stay the same and that's what truly matters.

Nostalgia always have triggers and vagrants are one of them.  Homeless people remind me of Dante, a vagrant who frequented our neighborhood when I was a kid. We didn't really know his name because he could not talk. Our neighbor named him Dante because he resembled Dante Varona, a Filipino action star famous at that time for jumping from San Juanico Bridge in one of his movies.

 The vagrant in the photo reminds me so much of Dante.

Every kid in the neighborhood was afraid of Dante because he was dirty with thick beard and foul smell and there would always be flies following him around. Whenever he would walk right through our street, my friends and I would hide inside our houses, vowing not to come out until he was gone. But the old people in the neighborhood, like our parents, would always be nice to Dante. They would give him food, new clothes and new cardboards and plastics (which he would carry around serving as umbrellas and blankets).  Whenever there's a party in the neighborhood, Dante would always be invited at the back kitchen. After getting his favorites (barbeque and puto), he'd split like a shy boy. 

We had no idea where Dante would sleep at night. He would only be visible during daytime. He was harmless but nonetheless, kids were scared of him. I never got close to him physically because I would run away from him whenever he was around. But I remember, our vicious dog Brownette who barked at everyone including my siblings, would never bark at Dante. I wondered this in my sleep and tried to observe them one afternoon. I found out Dante would feed our dog with bones which he would collect from every house in the neighborhood. There was surge of guilt inside me. Dante fed my dog while I could not even get anywhere near my dog. And anywhere near him.

That summer was the last time we ever saw Dante in the neighborhood. Everyone assumed he was dead. I secretly mourned. I was not sure why but it was as if I lost someone special.  Maybe I did.

Originally Written: July 4, 2008

Re-Edited: September 16, 2009